Vega put her arm around Kylie’s shoulders but didn’t touch her, and they began to walk up, Kylie keeping pace with Vega on each step, arms at her sides. They reached the top of the stairs and were in the kitchen, and Kylie squinted at the light.
“It’s nighttime?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Vega. “Almost four in the morning.”
Vega led her out of the kitchen and toward the front door. She was not planning on involving Mrs. Linsom in their exit.
“Kylie!” Mrs. Linsom called from the living room.
Kylie’s whole body jerked when she heard her name. Vega shook her head slowly, mostly to herself.
“Let’s go,” she said to Kylie.
But Kylie peered around Vega, through the entryway, like someone trying to see how far ahead the traffic accident was. Then she stepped away from Vega, hands still at her sides limply, and moved forward, around the oak table with the full flower arrangement, into the living room.
Do not let the skip run the show, Perry said in her head. You let the skip make any decisions, you are cooked cabbage.
But Kylie wasn’t a skip. She was a girl looking to settle up, and for all Vega knew, the next time Kylie and Mrs. Linsom would see each other would be in a courtroom. This might be the last time.
So Vega followed her. Mrs. Linsom was right where Vega had left her, crouched on the floor against the piano. Kylie was walking toward her.
“Kylie,” said Mrs. Linsom weakly, her skin a washed-out yellow. “Kylie, I’m sorry you had to go through that. But you did the right thing.”
Vega gripped her thumbs in her palms. Her imagination expanded with what she could do to Lindsay Linsom. Tell Kylie to wait in the car. Pick up the glass deer centerpiece and crush Mrs. Linsom’s forehead, smash the jaw, crack the delicate bridge of the nose. When her free hand goes to her face to protect it, smash each finger one by one on the piano keys. Then make her play something.
Then Kylie took the last couple of steps so she was right over Mrs. Linsom. She leaned down and screamed.
The sound was so shrill, so harrowing, Vega had to slap her hands over her ears. Mrs. Linsom could cover only one with her free hand, her eyes squeezing shut.
Kylie had an enormous amount of air in her lungs, like she’d been accruing it for the past seven days. Even though time in general was working a strange game on Vega, stretching and shrinking, the scream lasted and lasted.
Her voice turned hoarse, and finally she stopped. Beads of tears had sprouted on her lashes from the release. She stood up straight and backed away. Mrs. Linsom stared at her, stunned.
Kylie turned around to face Vega, her eyes vacant. Vega removed her jacket and held it out to her.
“Come on. It’s cold,” she said.
Kylie wandered slowly to her, slid the jacket on, the sleeves long on her arms by an inch or two.
“Mommy?”
It was Cole calling from upstairs. They could not see her from where they stood.
“Mommy, what was that?”
Mrs. Linsom leaned as far as she could away from the piano, trying to stretch the cuffs.
“Nothing, sweetie. Go back to bed. Everything’s okay,” she called in a chirpy singsong.
Vega led Kylie to the entryway. Cole stood at the top of the stairs.
“Kylie?” she said, half-asleep.
Kylie lifted her hand and waved, her face blank.
Cole waved back, the confusion just beginning to cloud her eyes.
Vega put her hand on Kylie’s back and guided her to the front door. She turned back to Cole.
“Call 911. Everything’s not okay.”
Cole started to open her mouth to ask more questions, looking like a little lost tourist, but Kylie was already out the front door, and Vega was right behind.
Then they were out in the air, colder than when Vega had entered the house, flurries still twirling, dissolving on Vega’s bare arms. Kylie was in a sort of sleepwalk, legs marching. Her eyes were open; she watched the ground a few feet ahead.
“That’s my car,” said Vega, when they were close, pressing her key, unlocking the doors.
As they walked, Vega pulled out her phone and texted Jamie: “I have Kylie. She is fine. Be there soon.” She skipped over texts and messages from Caplan, Junior, the Bastard.
They opened the doors and got in. Kylie buckled her seat belt without having to be told and stared straight ahead. Alive but dead, Vega thought. It was too soon to tell if she was like Christy Polo?ez. She won’t be when she sees Jamie. Then she’ll wake up, Vega found herself hoping.
Vega started the car and drove out of the subdivision, past the field. She cranked the heat.
“Tell me if you’re too hot,” she said to Kylie.
Kylie didn’t respond. Her hands were in her lap.
Vega didn’t need the GPS to find Jamie’s parents’ house anymore. She recognized the county road, and the U.S. route, and then the side streets. The stores and the liquor distributor, the strip malls and the post office.
“What’s your name?” said Kylie.
“Vega.”
“Vega?”
“V-E-G-A,” said Vega. “It’s my last name.”
“What’s your first name?”
“Alice.”
Vega glanced at Kylie, who was thinking about it.
“There’s a girl named Alice in my class,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Vega, thinking it would be good to keep Kylie talking. The more engaged she was now, the less likely it would be for her to reside in the shock state. “It’s becoming popular now. When I was a kid, I was the only Alice in my school.”
“I’m not the only Kylie in my school. There’s three of them. Of us.”
“But you’re the only Kylie Brandt,” said Vega.
Kylie was quiet, looking out the window.
She was unsure of the point she was trying to make to the girl. You’re special? Vega thought she would see right through that line of bullshit right away. She thought, after the last seven days, Kylie would see through everything, the world now robbed of virtue and, worse, the potential of virtue. The swell of possibility gone.
They were two blocks from Jamie’s parents’ house. Vega lingered at a stop sign, and a news van sped by them. Vega switched the hazards on.
“Hey,” she said. “Are you listening right now?”
Kylie nodded, still gazing out the window.
“You’re going to have a nice life. All this shit that’s happened to you is over. It’s not going to happen again. Your mom really loves you, and she’s a good person. You’re going to grow up and have a nice life. Get married and have kids and dogs if you want. Any time you get sore about what happened to you, just think about that. And take this.”
Vega leaned to the glove compartment and popped it open, held out a card to Kylie.
Kylie regarded it skeptically and then took it from her.
“That’s me,” said Vega. “Anyone bother you, or your sister or your mom, send me a note. I will get on a plane and come here and put them in the fucking earth. Sound good?”
Kylie read the card start to finish, then turned to Vega and nodded.
“Good,” said Vega.