We were told several children had been excused. I could certainly see their loss being a valid reason to sit it out. Isis drops onto the bench beside me. “No, we decided to skip so we could spend some extra time in the computer lab.”
Imani’s nostrils flare in annoyance. She’s clearly the more closed off of the two. “Isis! You’re not supposed to tell her that.”
“Why not?” I ask, genuinely curious. “I don’t have any authority here. I can’t give you detention or any other punishment even if I wanted to, which I don’t.”
Imani tilts her head to the side, her long black braids spilling over one shoulder. “Why don’t you?”
“Because I also prefer time on the computer to pretty much anything else.”
Both girls seem impressed by my answer, and the slow trickle of validation moves through me, reminding me of what it was like to hear AJ’s friends call me cool when they thought I wasn’t listening. The key to maintaining cool status as an adult is knowing when to stop asking questions. I know this. And still, I find myself posing a question to them.
“What were you working on?”
Isis slides a careful, questioning look to her big sister who graciously gives a shrug of encouragement. She squeals softly and then spins to face me, eyes wide with excitement.
“We’re building a video game!”
From there, the words spill out of her at rapid speed. Details of character development and world building flying at me faster than I can process them. Imani has joined in by the time Agent Shaw returns with water, a granola bar and the school nurse who orders the girls into the gym to find their homeroom teachers before I can say goodbye or remember who exactly they remind me of.
6
CAL
The most interesting thing happens when you meet the makers of a monster.
All the pieces of the horrific puzzle that is them fall into place, and you can finally make sense of them. Finally see that their selfishness and entitlement isn’t a mistake, it’s a learned behavior. A weapon they were taught to wield and were rewarded for using successfully.
Aubrey’s list of rewards is long and vast, ranging from things as grand as the presidency to something as small as one of his arms around the back of Selene’s chair while she picks at the lunch he insisted she share with him and his parents after their joint appearance at Belmont High.
Chip and Arlene Taylor are everything you’d expect the parents of a man like Aubrey to be. Chip is quiet vulgarity dressed in an expensive suit, and Arlene is poised submission wrapped in an understated dress and string of pearls. When you put them next to their son, they’re the picture-perfect American family.
The only thing that doesn’t fit is the melanated goddess among them.
Everything from the glow of her skin to the sadness behind her eyes sets her apart. While they laugh boisterously and talk about how handsome AJ looked in the photo the school had displayed in the gym, she mourns him silently. It’s infuriating. How they look right past her. Talk around her. Pretend her pain isn’t palpable. Real enough, raw enough, big enough to fill up the entire private dining room at the back of Dahlia’s—an upscale Asian fusion restaurant Aubrey eats at often.
Maybe it isn’t to them.
Maybe I’m the only one here who cares enough to see it. If Beck were in here instead of with the cars, he’d see it too. We’d share looks from across the room and vow right then and there to add this moment to the long list of things we have to atone for when we finally have her back in our arms. It’s longer than I’d like, and I hate not knowing when we’ll be able to start checking things off it.
Ifwe’ll ever be able to start checking things off of it.
I shake my head, banishing the thought as soon as it’s fully formed. The key to surviving this is staying positive. It’s looking ahead to the future and keeping an eye out for glimmers of hope in the present. My glimmer comes seconds later, appearing in the form of Selene excusing herself from the table to go to the restroom. Agent Morgan—Shaw’s right hand—steps in immediately to escort her, and I hold my breath as they approach the open doorway I’ve made my post, willing Selene to look at me even as I force my eyes away from her.
She doesn’t, and I know that’s probably for the best because Aubrey is watching. He’s paused his entire conversation with his father just to witness the pain it causes us to be this close to each other and act like we don’t know what it feels like to be closer. What he doesn’t see, though, is Selene drop her hands to her sides as she passes between me and the wall. He doesn’t notice my pinky stretching out, the single digit straining for the faintestbit of contact, and he damn sure doesn’t catch how hers does the same.
The fleeting touch sends shock waves through me, but I remain expressionless even as Selene gasps quietly, leaving me with the small, private sound as she disappears down the hall.
Aubrey’s smile is a dark curve of satisfaction as he turns back to his parents. He picks up the glass goblet filled with sparkling water and takes a long sip, continuing the conversation they were having before Selene left the table.
“Don’t get me wrong, the plaque is nice, but I think I’d like to see my son’s memory represented in a much more significant way.”
Chip cuts another slice of his ribeye and pops it into his mouth. “I agree. Having the President’s son sharing a memorial plaque with everyone else seems distasteful.”
“Exactly!” Aubrey agrees. “They’re building a new sports complex. I think the Aubrey Taylor Jr. Stadium has a nice ring to it.”
“Well, I’m sure Principal Mathers would be more than happy to discuss different options,” Arlene chirps, taking a dainty bite of her salad. She chews slowly and swallows with a napkin covering her mouth, wiping the corners when she’s done. “She seemed quite fond of you, Aubrey. You could have Jordan invite her to the State Dinner. It’d be the perfect way to endear yourself to her even more.”
Aubrey appears to be intrigued by the idea until his father shakes his head. “Why on Earth would he do all of that when he can just write a check and have her do whatever he wants, Arlene?”
