She could sew it or at least roll the sleeve up, but instead she pretends she doesn’t notice. I try to look away, glaring at the astronomy textbook in my lap.
Apparently, dissatisfied with my weekly updates, Mom and Dad called Quincy and forced her to corner me in the Obeliskos for more. Luckily, we’re in a corner far from listening ears, but I’m still trying to keep from talking too loud.
I don’t need anyone knowing I still check in with my parents, or that they require it.
Mom rattles off more questions, and I imagine her standing in front of the kitchen sink at the Asphodel wringing her hands together. She’s probably staring out the window at the beachbehind the house and the endless rows of rosebushes and hydrangeas that Aunt Violet has helped her cultivate over the years, since Mom sorely lacks a green thumb and Violet owns a flower shop near the marina.
“Do you realize how weird that is to ask your child?” I ask when she finally pauses for a breath, forcing my gaze away from Quincy’s cardigan. “No kidnappings or violence atschool?”
“What’s weird is that you didn’t automatically answer.”
“If you don’t satisfy her curiosity, she’s gonna crash your party,” Violet says from somewhere in the background.
“Trust me, she’s got a bag packed,” Aunt Cora chimes in, sounding slightly farther away. “And if she goes, I have to go. Those are the rules now that Asher and Lucy are living together.”
“Please. Those have always been the rules with you two. Then you drag me and Wolfe along.” Dad’s voice hovers close to the phone, and I imagine he’s bending down to kiss Mom’s forehead or smell her or whatever other weird gesture he has to do.
When I was growing up, they were always touching in some way, whether it was the brush of their pinkies or him slipping an arm around her waist or pulling her into an alcove for a kiss. And it wasn’t just my parents. All the adult couples in our lives seemed so deeply, madly, incandescently in love that I spent half my life sick with envy and wondering when my time would come.
I wanted someone to look at me the way my dad looks at my mom—like she’s hung the sun in the sky with her bare hands and is the sole reason he’s alive.
“In almost three decades, I’ve never heard either of you complain,” Cora says. “Vi, on the other hand…”
“Because you’re always ditching me,” Violet huffs. “My own brother, leaving me to fend for myself. Be glad he’s your father and not a different relative, Noelle, because the dynamic matters.”
I smile to myself. The main reason our family extends so far beyond blood relations is because of the connections my dad has and how secretly soft he is. Sure, Mom is the glue holding everyone together, but they were caught and adopted by him.
A former Mafia physician. I guess when you’ve seen the things he has, maybe you’d want to spend the rest of your life surrounded by goodness.
“Anyway,” Mom says, and the background noise falls quiet. “So things are okay, my love? When you enrolled, you still seemed a little…off, so I’m just trying to make sure that school isn’t making things worse. It’s an odd place.”
“Odd being the operative word,” Dad adds, and I wonder if she has me on speaker. “You know the deal, Noelle. The slightest hint of a problem?—”
“And I call you to come get the three of us,” I finish, looking at Quincy again as she continues reading, pretending she isn’t listening. And that I’m not lying. “I know. And if I do anything to jeopardize my safety or Asher’s or Quincy’s, you cut me out of the inheritance.”
“Kallum,” Mom chides. “We didn’t discuss that as a punishment.”
“There had to be something at stake, little one,” he tells her. “But it won’t be an issue either way. Right, Noelle?”
My heart thumps idly inside my chest, and I gnaw on the corner of my lip. I should tell him about the cloaked figures I saw in the Primordial Forest. I should warn him that this school is a lot stranger than he probably realizes, since Quincy’s admitted to keeping the truth from them.
But if I do, he’ll pull us out of Fury Hill faster than we can collectively blink, and I’m not ready to leave. Going back to my parents’ house already proves what I fear most: that I’m not ready to be out on my own and not cut out for the real world.
Hollywood didn’t want me. Fury Hill probably wants me dead. Sure, those are only two places in the entire world, but to me, it’s starting to feel like I’m not destined to get anything I want.
“Right,” I tell him, even as the dishonesty makes my throat constrict.
We hang up not long after that, exchanging a few more uncomfortable pleasantries, though it’s hard to tell if that was my issue or if they could feel it too.
“You’re being weird.” Quincy interrupts my thoughts without glancing up from theBotany of Empirebook balanced on her leg.
“Yeah, well, you’re always weird.”
“Good to see Avernia’s done wonders for your rebuttal skills.”
I make a face. “I’m not looking to become the next debate team captain.”
“Right, that would be beneath you.”
