Not that I would tell her that I feel like I’m dying when we race and rumble up to the sky. Or that I feel dizzy and sick, and my slightly pointy ears ache from the inside out.
It hits me, as I shiver and hug myself, that it takes a very special sort of person to raise a child—even a half-demon kid like me—for fifteen years and not want anything to do with me, not a single hug or kind word.
But maybe she stopped Barton from hurting me. Maybe she kept him from putting me out in the icy water or leaving me in the middle of nowhere—even more than we were in Eagle Arch.
I think of what she let me do when Barton was gone.
Read and color.
Watch television, lots of shows where they taught me how to read and do math. Some about geography and animals. All of that faded when I got older. Vanished when he was home.
Maybe she wanted me out of her hair. Maybe she didn’t know how else to be kind without letting herself get punished for it.
No matter what, I used what I learned. I kept busy, I’m earning a degree, I’m earning my keep—or I will be.
Sarah sleeps on, sleeping like she’s near death, exhausted.
I don’t know how to feel about her. So I just feel numb.
Until we get to Washington. Sarah offers a big, tearful thank-you to Carol and a small nod to me before rushing away.
I stay on the plane and try not to cry. It’s not that I loved Sarah. But I knew her. She was the closest thing to a mom that I had.
Now I have nothing. Nothing good. Nothing familiar.
“I’ve got to refuel, kiddo. Need to make a call? Use the internet? Get a bathroom break and a snack?”
I look out at the remote airfield where we’ve landed. There is a gray building with bright banners flying above it. Planes buzz in and out. Cars behind a tall fence unload and pick up people.
“I don’t have any money.” I have a bunch of change and a few crumpled dollars I’ve found and hoarded over the years. It doesn’t add up to much. Barton was not one to drop money, and Sarah didn’t have any of her own. It must have taken her a long time to plan this, a long time to save money to start over.
My tears retreat, wrapped in anger. She could have taught me how to escape. She knew I had it worse.
But Carol’s kindly face is unfazed. “Well, you’ve got your freedom, and that’s worth a lot.”
“I’m heading to New York. I have a job there, and my employer is paying for my travel—but I have no accounts of my own for him to send the money to.”
“That’s not a problem if you trust me—and you must, because you’re up in this bird with me, and that’s me holding your life in my hands, let alone a couple hundred bucks. You want to fly into New York?”
“I can’t,” I whisper. “My father took all my papers. The only way I can get copies is in New York.”I hope.
“Hm. Tell your employer to send the money to Carol Vandeross.” She hands me a phone and taps a few things on the screen.
Apps. These are apps. I’ve seen them on my rare occasions to watch television, but I haven’t used one. I try to keep my faceimmobile so she doesn’t realize how little I know, how helpless I’ll be.
I will not be helpless. I will learn. They’ll never know how I was raised...
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“Here, my email address for an e-pay app. He’ll send your money to me, and I’ll give you cash. There’s an ATM in the airport—if you can call this place an airport.” Carol laughs. “Come on in and get a sandwich.”
“I... I’m not hungry.”
“I think you oughta eat. The airfield in Idaho is like a Porta-John with a magazine stand. The coffee tastes like dishwater.”
Well. I have to try sometime...
“I’ll call Mr. Taylor and get the money for a train ticket. I don’t need papers to ride a train, do I?”
