Joseph’s eyebrows lowered. “That’s when Jenny’s dog ran away.”
Who’s Jenny? I mouthed to Daniel.
“Angelo,” Daniel said. “Across the street and to the left.”
Joseph looked back at Mom. “Mom, will you take me to Max’s?”
“I’m kind of tired, honey.”
Joseph looked at Daniel and then at me. We simultaneously said, “Not it.”
Joseph clasped his hands together in mock prayer. “PLEASE take me! I will never ever ask for anything ever again, I swear.”
“Mara has to stay and help me with dinner,” my mom said.
My turn to make a face, even though I was spectacularly relieved. “I do?”
“Daniel, take him please?” she asked. Daniel was already reaching for her keys.
“Thanks.”
Joseph fist-pumped, but turned to me before he left. “You’re coming to the carnival tonight, right?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What carnival?”
“There’s a fair out in Davie,” Mom said. “I thought it would be fun if we all went.”
“Be back soon,” Daniel said as he left the kitchen and left New Theories on the counter. Then popped his head back in for one final you owe me look.
I did owe him. Remembering the cat unsettled me, even though I knew John was outside, watching our house. Jude hadn’t appeared since John had been here and the missing animals could be a coincidence, but they made me nervous and— And my mother was looking at me.
I smiled at her. Widely. “What can I do?” I asked, all enthusiasm and cheer.
“Would you mind setting the table?”
“Sure!” I began unloading the dishwasher while my mother started rummaging in the pantry.
“How’s everything going at Horizons?” she asked.
So this is why I was granted a reprieve. “It’s great!”
“What kinds of things are you doing there?”
Aside from making new enemies? “Um, in drama therapy yesterday we chose monologues from old books and then performed them.”
“Did you like it?”
I nodded seriously. “I did.”
“Really?”
“It’s fun pretending to be someone else.”
“What book did you pick?”
“Um, Jekyll and Hyde.”
“What part did you play?”
Hyde. “Jekyll.”
She put something in the oven, hiding her face. “How are things with Noah?”
Ah. That was what she really wanted to talk about. “They’re good.” I think. “The same, you know?”
“What do you guys do together?”
Aside from evading my stalker and burning dolls? “We talk.”
“About what?”
Genetic memory. “Books.” Possession. “Movies.” Jude. “People we don’t like.”
“Do you talk about what’s going on with you?”
I tried to remember the conversation I overheard between my parents, right after my psych ward stint. Mom said it was good for me to have someone who listened— “He’s a good listener,” I said.
“Do you talk about what’s going on with him?”
What? “What do you mean?”
She turned to face me, her features neutral and her stare direct. She searched for something in my eyes, but whatever it was, she didn’t find it because she went on. “Noah’s parents are going out of town this weekend and they sent his sister to a friend’s house, so I said he could stay here.”
I nodded. “I know. . . .” I waited for the other shoe.
“I just want to make sure I don’t have to worry about you two.”
I shook my head emphatically. “Nope. No worries.”
She mixed something together in a bowl and then set it down on the counter. “How serious are you?”
“Not serious enough for you to worry,” I said with a light smile, scrambling for a way to distract her before the conversation got seriously awkward. “Hey, Mom,” I started, remembering my conversation with Daniel. “What do you know about Jungian archetypes?” Best segue ever.
She looked appropriately surprised. “Wow, I haven’t thought about that since college. . . . I could tell you more about Jacques Lacan than Carl Jung—he was more my speed, but let’s see,” she said, drawing out the word as her eyes flicked to the ceiling. “There’s the Self, I remember, and the Shadow,” she ticked them off on her fingers, “the Persona . . . I’m blanking on the other two main ones . . . There are other archetypal figures, though—the Great Mother, the Devil, the Hero . . .” Her voice trailed off for a second before her face lit up. “Oh! And the Sage and the Trickster, too—and I’m remembering something about Oedipus, but he could be creeping in from Freud? And Apollo, maybe—” she said before being interrupted by a knock on the door.
I was already on my way out of the kitchen when she asked me to see who it was.
I opened the door to find Noah standing there in a long-sleeve plaid shirt and dark jeans, with sunglasses on that masked his eyes. He looked perfectly disheveled and perfectly blank.
He only ever shows you what he wants you to see.
“Where is everyone?” he asked evenly.