fidgeted uncomfortably. “You didn’t do anything wrong. With Eric. I know you like him.”
I nodded.
“And the other thing, at the library. I meant that.”
I held up my hand. “You didn’t have to apologize. I told you, it was the truth.”
“And I told
you
—”
“That truth can mean different things to different people.”
There was a hint of a smile in his eyes. “You remembered that?”
I felt myself blushing. “I didn’t understand what you were talking about then,” I admitted. “But I guess it’s like how youand Becca both saw what happened Saturday at the party, only you ended up with two different versions of what I did. She thought I started the fire. You thought I stopped it.”
“I’m right, she’s wrong,” he said.
This time it was my turn to laugh. “How do you know?”
“Because you couldn’t have created that fireball.” There was no humor in his eyes now. “Whoever did that had more chops than you could have come up with.”
It took me a moment to absorb what he was saying. “You mean you think someone shot that thing at Eric
deliberately
?”
He shrugged. “There was a lot of energy in the room. Those people . . .”
“The twenty-seven families.”
“Yes. Well, they’re . . .”
“Special, I know. Hattie’s word.”
“Right. Special.” He chewed his lip and stared at me through narrowed eyes, as if he didn’t know how much he wanted to tell me. “I’m just saying you might not want to look too closely at them. At us.”
“You? I thought I was the freak here.”
“No, you fit right in. The Ainsworths are one of the twenty-seven families, but you didn’t grow up here, so you don’t really know what’s going on. You don’t know what can happen to you.”
“What’s that?” I asked. “What can happen?”
He turned his head away. I could see him wrestling with himself over something. Then he looked at me with his soft gray eyes that seemed to pull me into the center of his soul. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “I won’t let it.”
I felt my stomach flip.
“Will you sit with me at lunch today?”
I think my mouth fell open. I prayed it didn’t, but I think it did. His arm was still around me. I could smell his aftershave . . .
“Yoo-hoo there!” Miss P was heading purposefully down the hall toward us, her shoes clacking. “Miss Jessevar!”
I sighed. I figured she was going to yell at us for being in the hall after the late bell. “We—”
“Please go to the visitors’ lounge at once,” she said. “I’ll notify your instructor that you’ll be late for class.” She cocked her head quizzically at Peter. “Why are you here after the bell, Mr. Shaw?” she asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind. Just get to wherever you’re going. Good day.” She clacked away.
Then Peter took my hand. “I’ll look for you in the dining room,” he said, giving my palm a little squeeze.
My feet felt as if they were dancing as I made my way to the visitors’ lounge. In fact, I was so preoccupied with thoughts of Peter (he
squeezed my
hand
!) that I didn’t realize until I was almost at the door how odd it was that I should have a visitor at all. “Dad?” I asked tentatively at the entrance.
Wrong. Instead there were two women who looked as if they represented the Temperance League.
One was very old, probably close to eighty, and appeared to be dressed in her Halloween party clothes, all lace and black velvet, with high-button boots and a doily-like object that hung across her head like crocheted dog ears.
But it was the other one who held my attention. She wasin her late thirties, I guessed, and though pretty, not very remarkable except for one thing:
She looked exactly like my mother.
The resemblance to the woman I only knew from a photograph was so startling that I felt my breath involuntarily whooshing into my lungs. “Mom?” I whispered.
“Hello, Serenity,” the older woman said kindly. “I am Elizabeth
I nodded.
“And the other thing, at the library. I meant that.”
I held up my hand. “You didn’t have to apologize. I told you, it was the truth.”
“And I told
you
—”
“That truth can mean different things to different people.”
There was a hint of a smile in his eyes. “You remembered that?”
I felt myself blushing. “I didn’t understand what you were talking about then,” I admitted. “But I guess it’s like how youand Becca both saw what happened Saturday at the party, only you ended up with two different versions of what I did. She thought I started the fire. You thought I stopped it.”
“I’m right, she’s wrong,” he said.
This time it was my turn to laugh. “How do you know?”
“Because you couldn’t have created that fireball.” There was no humor in his eyes now. “Whoever did that had more chops than you could have come up with.”
It took me a moment to absorb what he was saying. “You mean you think someone shot that thing at Eric
deliberately
?”
He shrugged. “There was a lot of energy in the room. Those people . . .”
“The twenty-seven families.”
“Yes. Well, they’re . . .”
“Special, I know. Hattie’s word.”
“Right. Special.” He chewed his lip and stared at me through narrowed eyes, as if he didn’t know how much he wanted to tell me. “I’m just saying you might not want to look too closely at them. At us.”
“You? I thought I was the freak here.”
“No, you fit right in. The Ainsworths are one of the twenty-seven families, but you didn’t grow up here, so you don’t really know what’s going on. You don’t know what can happen to you.”
“What’s that?” I asked. “What can happen?”
He turned his head away. I could see him wrestling with himself over something. Then he looked at me with his soft gray eyes that seemed to pull me into the center of his soul. “Nothing,” he said quietly. “I won’t let it.”
I felt my stomach flip.
“Will you sit with me at lunch today?”
I think my mouth fell open. I prayed it didn’t, but I think it did. His arm was still around me. I could smell his aftershave . . .
“Yoo-hoo there!” Miss P was heading purposefully down the hall toward us, her shoes clacking. “Miss Jessevar!”
I sighed. I figured she was going to yell at us for being in the hall after the late bell. “We—”
“Please go to the visitors’ lounge at once,” she said. “I’ll notify your instructor that you’ll be late for class.” She cocked her head quizzically at Peter. “Why are you here after the bell, Mr. Shaw?” she asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “Never mind. Just get to wherever you’re going. Good day.” She clacked away.
Then Peter took my hand. “I’ll look for you in the dining room,” he said, giving my palm a little squeeze.
My feet felt as if they were dancing as I made my way to the visitors’ lounge. In fact, I was so preoccupied with thoughts of Peter (he
squeezed my
hand
!) that I didn’t realize until I was almost at the door how odd it was that I should have a visitor at all. “Dad?” I asked tentatively at the entrance.
Wrong. Instead there were two women who looked as if they represented the Temperance League.
One was very old, probably close to eighty, and appeared to be dressed in her Halloween party clothes, all lace and black velvet, with high-button boots and a doily-like object that hung across her head like crocheted dog ears.
But it was the other one who held my attention. She wasin her late thirties, I guessed, and though pretty, not very remarkable except for one thing:
She looked exactly like my mother.
The resemblance to the woman I only knew from a photograph was so startling that I felt my breath involuntarily whooshing into my lungs. “Mom?” I whispered.
“Hello, Serenity,” the older woman said kindly. “I am Elizabeth
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