Transparent (9 page)

I can’t remember ever feeling like this before, but I think this is what freedom feels like. This is what it must be like to be normal.

I could get used to it.

“Well, well, look who decided to show herself.” Seth stands at the front in tutoring, arms folded. So much for good feelings.

“Shut it, Seth.” Bea grabs my arm and plunks me down in a chair. “He has a weird way of showing worry, but I swear he was as scared as me and Brady.”

“I don’t care if he was worried or not,” I say.

“Good.” Seth’s voice comes from behind, and I whirl around to find him standing right over me. “I take it you still can’t figure out your math book?”

I glare at him. He knows I was out there in the desert hiding, and still no compassion. Too bad I didn’t eat it. “I’m still putting up with you, aren’t I?”

He holds back a smile. “Here’s a worksheet. If you have questions … yeah.”

He throws it on my desk and rushes to the next victim. Before I start in on my after-school torture, I notice Bea staring at me. “What?”

She leans in to whisper. “He
always
has a clever comeback. Did you perform some kind of voodoo?”

“Not that I know of. I just let him know what a jerk he is.”

She laughs. “He’s so not used to people calling him out. I know it doesn’t look like it, but I think he respects you for standing up to him.”

I shake my head. “No. He really doesn’t. Trust me.”

“Whatever. He so needs someone to put him in his—”

“Back to work,” Seth barks.

Bea grumbles at her worksheet. I stare at my own, trying to remember what steps go into solving these problems. It’s all a mess in my head, and soon I’m thinking more about what Bea said than numbers.

I’d have thought people would put Seth in his place all the time. He’s not popular, at least from what I’ve gathered. He’s not
that
hot. He doesn’t even have a cool ability. He’s just a glorified calculator. Why would anyone let him get away with that attitude?

The hour’s almost up. Just when I hope Seth’s too busy, he grabs my worksheet. He lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “It’s like you went backward.”

My fingers tighten around my pencil. I refuse to look at his face as he sits down next to me.

“Everything we went over the first day is completely gone, isn’t it?”

I try to calm myself, knowing if I speak too quickly he’ll sense my hurt. “Maybe you didn’t teach me anything at all.”

He leans forward, and I look away so I don’t have to see his face. “Is that true?”

“You’re not as good a teacher as you think.”

He glares at me. “Everyone but Fiona can leave early. See you tomorrow.”

I groan. I swear I was happy today, until he decided to remind me what an idiot I am.

“Don’t make her stay forever, Seth,” Bea says.

He rolls his eyes. “I just need to talk to her for a second.”

She touches my shoulder lightly. “I’ll wait, okay?”

“You don’t have to. I have the car today.”

“I will anyway. By your locker.” She leaves, and I’m left to face Seth alone.

He stares at me like I’m supposed to talk first. I don’t. Finally, he starts. “I need you to be honest, because I can’t find what helps if you aren’t telling me what doesn’t work. Have I really not helped you?”

“Not really.” I focus on my pencil, because his blue eyes are starting to freak me out. They’re too intense, judgmental.

“Do you mind giving me more? If you really want me to help you pass, I have to know what’s wrong. You … have to trust me.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a jerk.”

“So?” He tilts his head, his smile smug. “I’m honest and you know it. I’ve kept your secrets—will keep them. It’s not my problem if you can’t handle someone who doesn’t treat you like royalty.”

“You have no clue how I’ve been treated.”

“Then tell me.”

“No.”

“C’mon. Based on what you said the other day, I already know you worked for him. It might help if you talked about it. What did he make you do? How were you treated?”

I squirm. Add a bright light and this could be an interrogation. “How does this help with math?”

“Understanding someone’s background helps in any teaching situation. Knowing you had a head injury as a baby helps, and maybe there are other things I need to know.”

“None of that other stuff has anything to do with math.”

“What other stuff?” he presses.

Dad’s image swirls in my head, his words and smile and love. All of which are lies. He comes when he needs me to do something for him, showers me with affection until I’d do anything just so he won’t leave. So I rob a bank or destroy evidence. And he still leaves. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You might be surprised,” he says quietly.

I glance up at him. He looks upset, but I don’t care.

“Forget it.” Remedial math has to be better than this. I don’t need therapy; I just need to pass my freaking class. I head for the door, but he beats me there. “Move!”

“Fiona, chill. I’m trying to help you, but I need your cooperation.”

I fold my arms. “Then you have to stop treating me like an imbecile.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m n—”

“There!” I say, pointing. “Right there! You’re doing it right now.”

“What?”

“I don’t care if you’re not
trying
to make me feel stupid; you are.” I want to scream, but settle for a frustrated grunt. “You want me to tell you something? Fine! I have feelings, even if you can’t see them. People have been treating me like an emotionless robot my whole life—people I
hate.
So stop.”

His eyes run over me, but he says nothing for a while. Then he looks down. “S-sorry.”

I blink. I have a feeling that word doesn’t often escape Seth’s lips. “Thank you.”

“I get that you don’t want to talk about your life.” He kicks at the floor. “But I still need to know what, exactly, is making math so hard for you.”

I decide to walk back to my desk, since I can’t find the words to explain it immediately anyway. Seth follows, taking the seat next to me again.

“Numbers don’t stick in my brain,” I finally say.

Seth purses his lips, and I can tell he’s trying not to be rude. “Can you be a little more specific? A lot of people say that.”

I sigh. “It’s like … I can’t remember how things work, I guess. I can learn to add just fine, but then somehow I forget it. I have to constantly remind myself how to add and subtract—how to count, even.”

“Hmm,” is all he says.

“Hmm?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not trying to be mean, but it sounds like some kind of short-term memory loss, just more specific. It’s only with numbers?”

“I guess. Not like I’ve been tested.” I fiddle with my hands, trying not to get worked up over the idea that I have brain damage. Of course I have brain damage—I was dropped into the world. Maybe I’m more upset that no one cared enough to find out earlier.

“How are you with mnemonic devices?”

I shrug. “I can remember them, but it doesn’t help much with the actual numbers.”

He nods. “True. Well, we’ll figure it out. This helps a lot.”

I search his face, surprised that he still looks as confident as ever. “You really think you can teach someone like me?”

He smiles. “I’m up for the challenge.”

Cocky bastard. “Okay, well, can I go now?”

“Sure.”

I don’t waste a second getting out of there. Bea’s at my locker just like she said she’d be. She winces when she sees me. “How’d it go?”

“Besides the giant fight? Great.”

She runs a hand over her face. “I’m so sorry. Boys can be such idiots.”

“Not your fault. Well, kind of.” We both laugh as I shove all of my books in my locker; I’m too tired to think about homework tonight. I want to enjoy life a little for once. “It’s burning up out here. Let’s get an ice cream or something.”

She smiles wide. “Excellent plan.”

It takes me forever to get ready for movie night. I go through every piece of clothing I brought. Nothing seems good enough. Brady’s picking me up, and I can’t help wondering if that means something. Bea could have gotten me. I could have come on my own. But he seemed like he
wanted
to.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it. It’s not like I know him that well. I just think he’s cute. But isn’t that how relationships start? Not like I know, but from what I’ve seen in movies that seems to be the case. Bea said I have a hot body; maybe Brady noticed and that’s enough.

I finally settle on a hot-pink tank top that shows off my boobs, or at least their outline. I grab a sheer black nylon shirt and slip that over the tank top. Since it has sleeves, it brings out the shape of my arms, even my collarbone, without making me too sweaty. I grab a gold headband to show where my head is, but forego glasses. With my tight black jeans and gold flats, I can’t get much prettier.

Instead of waiting for Brady to ring the doorbell, I head downstairs a little before eight to wait outside. There is no way Mom is meeting him. She’s in the living room doing yoga.

“I’m going out. I’ll be back in a few hours,” I say as she stretches out like a cat.

She looks up, her eyebrows arched. “Where? And with who?”

I sigh. “What’s with all the questions?”

“I kind of need to know, since I’m your mother and all,” she says, complete with eye roll like she’s still a teenager. “This town seems pretty quiet, but I’d still like to make sure you’re safe.”

Where was this concern when we were sneaking into stores and spying on people? “Oh, because you cared so much before.”

She frowns. “I cared. I always care about your safety.”

“Sure.” That is so not true, but whatever. “Why does it matter? We’re probably going back home next week anyway.”

Her mouth drops, and I immediately regret my sarcasm. I have to keep pretending everything is fine. I don’t want her putting Graham on alert.

“We’re not going back. I’m done with your father.” She bites her lip and looks away. I don’t believe her words any more than she does. So what if she’s done better this time? Dad still has her on a leash, and it tugs at her neck even now.

I clamp my mouth shut, determined not to argue so I can leave. “Sorry.”

She doesn’t answer immediately, giving me this look like she expects answers and she expects them now. I’m not a fan of this newfound assertiveness. “Well, are you telling me or staying home tonight?”

“I’m hanging out with a girl from school, okay? We’re watching a movie at her house.” I’d rather not say Bea’s name if I can help it. That will keep her safe.

Mom looks almost satisfied. “Any boys?”

“No. Can I go now?” It’s ridiculously easy to lie when you’re invisible.

“I guess this is real life, isn’t it? Have fun.” She goes back to her yoga, and I rush out the door.

Headlights shine in the dimming light. My heart speeds up, and I can’t help but smile. I can make out Brady’s silhouette in the driver’s seat. Then my heart stops. There’s not one figure in the old black truck—there’s two. So much for this ride meaning something. He was just being nice, probably saving Bea the gas. I bet that’s her in the passenger side.

The black truck slows in front of my house, and I briefly consider faking ill. Brady hops out, adorable smile pasted on his perfect face. “Hey, Fiona! You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. You get the middle.” He moves to the side, searching in vain for my face, but then his eyes zone in on my chest. Maybe the night’s not lost after all. “I think this is the most I’ve seen of you. You look nice.”

I can’t help but smile. Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue, but people usually don’t say
I
look nice. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s go.”

I climb in the driver’s side, but my stomach wants to climb back out when I see who’s ruining my alone time with Brady. Seth.
Seth?
So the run through the desert wasn’t just Bea gathering anyone who might help. They actually know each other, might even be friends, which sucks.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

Seth raises an eyebrow. “I’m not allowed to take a ride with my brother?”

No. No no no. Brothers? I didn’t think it was possible to feel stupider. Now that he said it, I can see the family resemblance. The same slightly wavy hair, though Brady’s is redder. The freckles, the blue eyes, the smirk. Seth is like the grumpy, skinny version of Brady. How did I miss it?

“Wait,” Seth says. “Bea didn’t tell you we’re brothers?”

“No.”

He looks at Brady. “You didn’t tell her?”

Brady holds up his hands. “I figured Trixy told her!”

Seth sighs. “And Bea probably assumed you told her.” He glances at me, almost looking apologetic. “I thought you knew.”

“It’s not a big deal,” I say, though it is. I didn’t realize movie night meant spending more time with Seth. Not exactly what I signed up for.

“So now that you know us well enough to come to movie night, I figure it’s time to decide on a nickname for you.” Brady makes a tight U-turn and speeds down the quiet street. “‘Fiona’ is three whole syllables, after all.”

I smile, searching for the seat belt as best I can without crossing personal boundaries. “Okay. What do you suggest?”

His grin turns mischievous. “How about Fifi?”

I’m glad he can’t see me cringe. I hate, hate,
hate
that nickname. There’s only one person who calls me that, and he does because he
knows
I hate it.

“She’s not a poodle.” Seth holds out the belt for me. “Here,
Fiona.
”

I take it, not at all surprised that Brady isn’t immune to Seth’s rudeness. Of course he’d be like that to his own brother.

Brady pouts. “You don’t like Fifi?”

I don’t want him to feel bad, so I nudge him playfully. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Seth scoffs. I glare at him, but he’s staring out the window, eyebrows pulled down, mouth pursed. He didn’t have to come if he’s going to sulk the whole time.

“You know,” Brady says, “you don’t look like a Fifi anyway. I think we’ll just stick with Fi.”

I laugh, hoping this is his way of flirting. “Sounds good.”