Hands gripped me, pulled me up. Big, warm hands. A hard shoulder was pressed into my midsection.
Then Bradley Pine stood up, threw me over his shoulder, and carried me from the room.
22
Violet
It started raining after Bradley parked his car. We ended up at Springheel Park, in the small paved lot facing the trees. The clouds rolled overhead, and in the park, I could see a family packing up their things from a picnic table, hurrying to get out of the rain.
I rolled my window down and hooked my arms over the door, resting my head on my arms. The rain was cool and soft on my cheek and my hair, soothing me. My forehead throbbed, though my clash with the bathroom counter had left only a small red mark. For the first time since I’d come back to Fell—and despite what had just happened to me—I felt oddly, perfectly calm.
“Who was it?” Bradley asked from the driver’s seat. He had carried me all the way out of the hospital over his shoulder. No one had stopped him. He’d dropped me into his car and started driving, as if he wanted to get out of there just as much as I did. “Who came at you?”
“Martin,” I said without lifting my head. The cold, suffocating darkness when he had touched me made me shiver. That poor boy.What if Lisette felt that way and wasn’t telling me? I needed to call Lisette.
“Did he say anything?” Bradley asked.
“Lots of things,” I replied. “I don’t blame him. He didn’t want to do it. He just wants to sleep. What made you come in to get me?”
“You were gone too long,” Bradley replied. “No one else went in or out of the bathroom. Something wasn’t right about it. I got a feeling.”
Rain was trickling through my hair to my scalp. It felt good, as if it anchored me to the real world. The people at the picnic table were real, I knew. They were alive, trying not to get wet. They anchored me, too.
If it weren’t for Bradley, I’d still be on the floor of that bathroom, so I took a breath. “Thank you,” I said. “For coming with me. For coming to get me. For getting me out of there.”
I glanced up to find him looking at me. His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“How hard was that for you to say?” he asked.
“Very hard,” I admitted.
He cupped a hand around his ear. “I’m suddenly hard of hearing, Violet. Say it again.”
He had to make this difficult, but for once, I didn’t mind. “Thank you,” I repeated.
He leaned closer, his hand still cupped around his ear. “What was that? You’re saying it out the window.”
I lifted my head and pulled all the way back into the car. I raised my voice a notch louder, enunciating the words. “Thank you, Bradley.”
He lowered his hand, looking satisfied. “You should thank me. I had to go into a girls’ bathroom. Someone could have beenshittingin there.”
“I’m aware,” I said. “Now tell me what Joan said. Because I assume you got an answer from her.”
Bradley lifted his hat, ran a hand through his hair, and lowered the hat again. The Snoopy tattoo flexed on his arm.
“Just say it,” I said. “I can take it.” I already knew what he would say.
“Violet, your mother gave birth three times in that hospital. You, your brother, and your little sister. That’s it.”
It was upsetting. I had questions. And at the same time, I felt several pieces deep inside me fall into place at last. Our mother hadn’t been pregnant with Ben. She hadn’t given birth. She’d come home with a baby in her arms, and we’d gone to the attic to get the crib after he was already born. Those memories finally made sense.
Who was that baby? Who was the little boy we’d lived with for six years? What family had missed him, wondered where he was?
Thinking of that family made my head ache, so I said, “Tell me about your kids. How old are they? What are their names?”
He didn’t remark on my change of subject. “Guess,” he said.
“Timmy and Tommy,” I said immediately. “Twins. They call the kids in school with glasses Four Eyes. Their teachers hate them.”
