Senator Lone continued his visits. In a way, he was even creepier than his brother. Partly, it was the widely spaced eyes, staring in slightly different directions. Partly it was his legislative aide, Matthias Redcroft. Whatever Redcroft did for the senator, it wasn’t just legislation. The way he was constantly an arm’s length away, gazing at the senator worshipfully while at the same time coldly observing his interactions . . . something about him seemed sick to Livia, though she could see nothing wrong with his body. When the senator visited, she did her best to stay away from both of them, but Redcroft especially.
Malcolm had been right about the year being hers—Livia went undefeated in the regular wrestling season, after which she crushed every one of her opponents in postseason competition, winning her first state championship by pinning her opponent in the first round of the finals. When the referee raised her arm in victory, she had never felt so filled with happiness. For just that instant, there was nothing else—no Skull Face, no Mr. Lone, not even Nason.
And then, as she walked off the mat and saw Malcolm and Sean waiting for her, their faces beaming with joy and pride, she felt something well up that she couldn’t stop. They both put their arms around her and hugged her while she cried uncontrollably, and somehow it was okay that they were touching her off the mat, it didn’t feel wrong or make her flinch at the other, horrible ways she had been touched, and the suddenness, the shock, of how good it felt to be hugged by her best friend and her jiu-jitsu teacher made her cry harder. She hugged them back, clutching them, sobbing, afraid if she let them go something could tear them away from her.
When she finally managed to disengage, she saw that Malcolm’s eyes were wet, too, and so were Sean’s. She laughed delightedly at the sight of it.
Malcolm shook his head as though in wonder. “Did I tell you, girl?” he said. “Did I tell you this was your year?”
She laughed again and wiped her face. It didn’t help, though. She was still crying.
Sean was wearing a huge grin. “Livia, you were amazing! Like a hurricane! I think I’m lucky we’re in different weight classes.”
She felt a little guilty for getting all the attention. “You were amazing, too.”
He shrugged. “Third place.”
“Come on, one-twenty-nine is a tougher division. Next year we’ll both be first.” She glanced at Malcolm and smiled. “Ask your dad, he’s never wrong.”
Malcolm smiled back. “She’s right, tiger. The other top three in your weight class were all seniors. A year of experience is huge. Next year they’ll all be at college, and the experienced senior is going to be you.”
The three of them drove back to Llewellyn in Malcolm’s car. Livia couldn’t stop smiling. Winning the state tournament had been the best night of her life. And she was imagining a way it might get even better.
36—THEN
Malcolm dropped her off at the Lones’ house. Katy was throwing another party, like the year before. Livia wondered whether Sean would walk her home again after. Whether he might try to kiss her again. She’d been thinking about that a lot lately. She thought she wanted him to. She wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone. And she wanted it to be Sean. The way he’d touched her the year before . . . it had been so gentle, so tentative, it hadn’t bothered her. When she looked back on it now, she thought Sean touching her like that had actually been quite lovely. She wanted him to do it again. To look at her, and whisper her name the way he had. To lean in the way he had. Yes, she thought, smiling. Please, that.
She had just finished showering and dressing, and was combing her wet hair in front of the mirror in her bedroom, when the door opened. She turned and saw Mr. Lone. She hadn’t been expecting that—Mrs. Lone was home, and it was too early for one of his night visits.
No, she thought. Not now. Not tonight.
“Congratulations,” he said, one hand resting on the doorjamb, the other holding a drink. His tie was loosened, his suit jacket open.
He took a sip from the glass. “I would have said so at the tournament, but you seem not to like talking with me at your wrestling functions.”
She surprised herself by thinking, Yeah, no shit. Ordinarily, she just endured him. Even in her mind, she didn’t argue. She didn’t talk back.
“Why is that, Livia? Are you ashamed of me?”
She glanced down. “I’m going to a party,” she heard herself say. “I want you to leave me alone.”
If her thoughts were surprising, the words outright stunned her. Who had just said that?
He stepped into the room and closed the door. “What did you say?”
She felt the fear rising up, trying to assert itself. “Leave me alone.”
“I don’t even know what that means. Leave you alone? You’re in my house.”
Her heart began to pound. But not in fear. In anger. Her fear had always been stronger than her anger. But this time felt different. This time, the anger felt like something alive, dangerous, uncoiling inside her. A snake. A dragon.