Tangled Thoughts (8 page)

“It didn't go well last time.”

“That was months ago, Lane.”

I shrugged. It didn't matter how long ago it was; it hadn't been long
enough
. Visiting him in DC at the end of the summer had been a Mistake with a capital M. I could still picture Alexis Morrow's cold smile through the window in the conference room door, as she leaned over Carter and his unbuckled pants. I could still feel the breathless surprise that he'd followed me into the bathroom. Still feel the way he'd kissed me there, his lips on mine and trailing down…

Amy was looking at me funny, at my neck. I realized I was tracing the path of his kisses with my hand and dropped it into my lap. In a calculated way she said, “You know he's moved on.”

“I've moved on too.”

She tilted her head and looked again at where my fingers had brushed my neck, at the necklace tucked under my sweater. “See, I don't quite think you have and I don't—”

“Northbrook is his home,” I said, cutting her off. “This is mine. I'm not going back.”

“Oh-kay,” she dragged out. When I looked back at her, she repeated it, softer now and with more understanding. “Okay.” I wondered what my face looked like.

“I'm sorry,” I said, because that's what I always said when I disappointed someone, including myself.

Amy shook her head. “It's okay. I
don't
understand”—she held up a hand to keep me from interrupting again—“but I don't have to. It's your decision.”

“Thank you.” Without warning, I hugged her, a load of tension slipping off my shoulders.

Amy hugged me back. “Thank you, too. For taking care of me.”

I thought that would be it, she'd said her piece and would be ready to leave, but Amy bit her lip, hesitating again. “What is it? Is there something you're not telling me?”

Her curls bounced when she shook her head. “No! Just…listen, okay?” she started, and I knew exactly what she wanted to talk about.

“Goodbye, Amy,” I said, turning back toward the fireplace before she could say anything more.

Behind me, I heard her shuffle. “Okay, I get it, you don't want to talk about him either, but have you considered maybe you were
meant
to meet Jack. He's
like
you. He's someone you could be yourself with,
everything
about you. Isn't that a
good
thing?” She paused, waiting for me to respond or for her words to sink in, I didn't know. When I didn't say anything, she sighed. “Okay. Bye, Lane. Just think about it, okay?”

I didn't move until the door closed behind her and I flopped down on my couch. Everything from last night to Amy's last words raced through my head. I hadn't wanted to think about it, but now I couldn't think about anything else.

All I'd wanted to do was forget, to be
free
, from Sententia and from everything. But how could I be free from who I was? Maybe that was just a foolish dream. I fell asleep there in my living room and dreamed of Jack Kensington instead.

Carter

F
lying sucked. In the time it took me to pry my fingers off the arm rest, Alexis was already wheeling her—surprisingly—compact bag down the aisle with one hand while dialing a car service with the other. It was obvious to anyone watching she'd been born holding her passport, ready to be stamped. Just another of the considerable differences between us.

“I still can't believe that was your first time,” she said, as she zoomed around slower-moving travelers in the concourse. “I mean, you're
twenty
years old.”

“I thought you'd be happy to be my first partner for
something
.”

“Ha! Who's funny now? Did you get your little set of wings from the Captain? You were a
very
good boy on the flight.”

She didn't ask if I'd liked it, the flying. I'm sure the answer was obvious. Being cooped up and powerless were not high on my list of enjoyable activities. I didn't look forward to doing it again in a few days. But for now, I was home, or almost.

An hour into the two hour ride from Boston, Alexis's hand landed on my thigh, stilling its bouncing. As if she knew what I was thinking, Alexis said, “So, are you just going to work all weekend, or will we actually get to have some fun?” She was looking at her phone, not directly at me.

“It's still my business too, babe.” When she'd said she wanted to come, I was all for it. But
Homecoming
meant something different to her than it did to me.

“I know.” She dropped the pretense of the phone and leaned her face toward mine. “But it's been running just fine without you for months now. This is a
getaway
, not a workaway.”

“We'll see.”

She groaned. “You're impossible.” I had no defense for that. “You're
at least
coming to the bonfire.”

“We'll see.”

T
HE
NEXT
DAY
, I ran close to ten miles. My feet didn't want to stop and my lungs urged me to go farther because the
air
. The air tasted clear and smelled
right
. The way air should, like evergreen and freedom. If I ever made it to heaven, the air would be exactly like it was here.

It felt so good to be on my home ground, but also, strange.
Everything
seemed larger or smaller or somehow
different
, but also exactly the same. Was this what everyone felt like when they left home and came back? It was all familiar yet vaguely unfamiliar at the same time. Now I compared home to another place in a way I'd never done before.

Another thing I'd never done before was attend the Northbrook Homecoming bonfire. I always gave the store as an excuse—it was our busiest weekend of the year—but in truth I just hadn't wanted to. Until last year, I
would
have come with Lainey, but we had dinner with Uncle Dan instead. So maybe I was glad it was something I'd never done. I only had memories of
not
being here with Lainey.

From the shadows between two pine trees, I observed the party. The heat of the fire didn't quite reach where I was hiding, but the air was slightly smoky and perfect. Sparks drifted toward the tall forest while voices competed with the crackling of the fire. Juniors, seniors, a few sophomores, and Academy faculty mingled with alumni. I scanned the crowd for the headmaster, but didn't see her blade-like form anywhere. She saw me, though.

“Mr. Penrose.” I froze for half a second before I glanced over my shoulder toward the sound of her voice, but I wasn't that surprised. I had just been looking for her.

I nodded. “Headmaster.”

She glided to a stop next to me, comfortable on the outskirts like I was. “I'm surprised to see you here.”

“Pleasantly?”

Her thin smile made me proud. I could still get under her skin with a single word. “If memory serves,” she said, “this is the first bonfire you've attended.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn't say I've attended it yet.”

“No, I suppose you haven't. You always were content just to loiter in the shadows.”

I gritted my teeth and said nothing. Constance Stewart had been a near constant presence in my life, like a wicked aunt I didn't choose and couldn't get rid of. Lainey had liked her, though. She said I mis-understood her, but she was wrong. The headmaster and I understood each other
too
well.

“Are you well?” she asked after she'd given her dig long enough to sink in.

Carefully, I said, “I'm keeping busy,” because it was true. It was pointless to lie, even politely, to the Perceptum's best
Vidi Veritas
—lie detector—in a generation.

“I'm glad to hear it,” she said and I cut a look at her. It wasn't a pleasantry; Dr. Stewart didn't deal in them either. I felt off balance. I'd been gone too long to know what her game might be. I didn't want to walk into a trap. Before I could decide what was safe to say next, she continued. “How do you find your work for the senator?”

“Challenging. In a good way.”

She nodded. “You've always needed more challenges than we could provide here. Even if now I have to look at my clock, rather than out my office window, to know when it's time to begin my day.”

Well, well. “I knew you'd miss me,” I said, grinning with all my teeth.

With uncharacteristic softness, she said, “I find I miss them all,” and I gaped at her. “Well, some more than others,” she clarified, straightening her spine.

“The graduates?”

“Last year's, yes. They were my first class, or perhaps you don't recall.” Now that she said it, of course I did. She became headmaster the same year Alexis and Amy started here, in the seventh grade. Technically the same year I started the Academy, in ninth. “I'm glad to see so many of them here. Though a few are missing.” She looked back toward me, and there it was. The trap was sprung.

I said nothing. I could feel her eyes still watching me, but kept mine on the fire.

“I don't suppose Miss Young will be joining us this year?” she asked, hopeful, and I shook my head.

“I'm not the right person to ask.”

“I was…surprised,” she said, “to hear about your…parting.”

Now I did look at her. She said
surprised
but she also meant
sorry
. Not in a taunting way, but genuinely. “So was I.”

“She was…good for you, in a way.”

She was good for you, too
, I thought, because by God, Constance Stewart was
trying
. She actually felt sorry for me, a Penrose, something that never would have happened before Elaine Young appeared here and cast her magic on all of us. “She was a challenge,” is what I said.

The headmaster half smiled. “She was that. But perhaps she needed a different kind of challenge.” She sighed. “Still, I'd have liked to ask her some things.”

“Those are some answers I wouldn't mind your sharing with me. Now that I know how much you miss me.” I turned my toothful smile on her and she actually chuckled.

“Yes, well, perhaps next year we'll get the chance. Now, go Cart-wright.” She gestured toward the fire. “Attend the bonfire. Think of it as another challenge,” she added, and I smiled for real. “And give my regards to the senator.”

I nodded and lifted my hand in farewell before wandering forward. I wondered what it meant that the good Dr. Stewart was as doubtful about Lainey's and my breakup as I'd been. It had my head all in the wrong space and I considered finding Alexis to tell her I was going home.

But then I heard her, the throaty, unmistakable sound of her laugh drifting over the crackle of the fire and the annoying noise of my own brain. Amy Moretti. I edged through the crowd until I caught sight of her. She looked great. Older. Some of the roundness was gone from her face, making her less sweet and more beautiful. I'd wondered if—hoped?—she'd be here.

When she turned in my direction, I waved and a huge grin broke across her face. As soon as I was in reaching distance, she threw her arms around me. I held on for a long time.

“I knew I heard your laugh,” I told her.

“I knew I saw your ass,” she said to my chest, and then pinched said ass. Ah, Amy. I missed her. I'd called her at first, when Lainey
wouldn't take my calls, but it didn't help. All our talks amounted to was pity, and I couldn't stand that, so I stopped calling. She reached up to muss my hair. “It's so short. I love it. Gawd, you look good, Penrose. Except for
this
.” She touched the shadow still lingering under my eye. “I won't even ask. But seriously, you're more handsome, I think. How's that
possible
?”

I grinned. “You look good too, Moretti. And it's good to see you. What are you doing here?”

“
Me
? Like you thought I'd miss this?! The real question is what are
you
doing here? You never came when you
lived
here!”

I shrugged. “I miss here. More than I thought I would.” Which was saying something. I didn't mention that Lex had all but dragged me across the street. “Is Caleb here?” I asked before I realized it was an assumption.

But all she said was, “No,” and shook her head. “He wanted to be but, you know. Iowa. And plane tickets.”

“So you're still…?”

She laughed. “Yeah, of course.” Of course. At what must have been the look on my face, her cheeks reddened and she fumbled, “I mean, you know, last year we worked it out and everything—So. How're classes? College is different, right? It's harder, but classes were hard here too…”

We talked and joked for a while, slipping back into the easy banter that had always made her my friend, even before Lainey. But the absence hovered, the conspicuous hole in the space between us. Finally, I gave in. I told myself I wouldn't ask, but now, after the headmaster had brought her up, I couldn't stop myself. I needed to know.

“Is she coming?” Amy knew who I meant. She opened and closed her mouth before shaking her head. I put my hands in my pockets. “How is she?”

Amy sighed. “Do you think that's a wise question?”

“I know it isn't.”

After another sigh, she gave in, as I knew she would. “She's good, hon. She's good.”

“I'm glad,” I said, and I almost believed myself.

“I think…God, I probably shouldn't even say this, but I think she missed you, even though she, well, you know. But she's good.” I didn't miss the past tense in what she shouldn't have said. She shifted on her feet next to me, holding her hands out toward the fire.

“Is she…with anyone?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.” Which meant there was someone.

“Would I like him?”

With a sideways glance and a little laugh-cough, she said, “Um. Probably not.” Before I could ask something more painful, she added, “Speaking of…Seriously? Alexis?”