Oliver blinks, and his eyes gleam with tears.
“Who did it?” I ask again, but this time I look up at Chloe, who stands a few paces away, the wind blowing her hair acrossher furrowed brow. She has on a loose, fluttery shirt with a high collar that hides most of the bruises I gave her last night. Normally, I’d want to admire them. But not now.
“He won’t tell me,” she says with her hands.
I look back down at Oliver, whose lower lip trembles. Then I crouch down so we can be at eye level.
“Tell me,” I say.
Oliver blinks, and tears streak over his cheeks, and I hate it. He’s not supposed to cry.
“My brother,” he signs.
My rage flares again. When I look back up at Chloe, she shakes her head in confusion. “What did he say?” she asks.
“Brother,” I sign.
Her eyes go wide, and I think I see, just for a moment, a flicker of understanding, although it vanishes before I can be sure. I don’t know much about Oliver’s brother. He’s never brought me a picture of him, just like he’s never brought me a picture of his parents, either.
“Your brother did that?” Chloe says, speaking this time. Oliver nods but doesn’t look at her. He looks at me, and then his hands start flying.
“Owen hates me,” he says. “Like my parents hate me. He said I was a weird freak, and that I need to talk like a normal person.”
The rage ignites, sending bolts of fire shooting through my veins. Ancient memories flash through my head, from the time I was Oliver’s age. From the time I thought I was human. All the children in Veritas taunting me whenever I went into town. My mother kept me out of school, taught me sign language herself. But everyone in Veritas knew how I was and hated me for it.
“Your brother said that?” Chloe asks. She’s come around to stand beside me, and her presence is the only thing that comes anywhere close to helping me calm the anger surging inside me.
“He always says that,” Oliver signs. “And Mom and Dad agree with him.”
Chloe makes a soft, sad sound in the back of her throat. But Oliver keeps going, his eyes fixed on mine as he signs.
“His friends came over,” he says, “and they held me down while he beat me up.”
My muscles quiver, and I curl my hands into fists, and all I can think about is blood.
“He beat you up?” Chloe’s voice is shaky. “That’s why your mom took your boat away?”
Through the haze of my anger, something connects. They must have taken the road here. That’s why they’re on this side of the peninsula.
“She said I made him do it.” Oliver’s signs are fast and jagged, like he can barely contain himself. “She said he’s right and that I do need to learn to talk and they’ve coddled me too much and that’s when she took my boat away. My dad told him he did a good job, that if that’s what it takes for me to be normal, that I should stop crying.”
I suck down deep breaths, my hands still clenched into fists, tight enough that I can feel my nails digging into my skin. Chloe’s worry has intensified. I’d actually say it’s turned to fear.
Oliver’s not afraid, though.
“Oliver,” Chloe breathes, dropping down to her knees. “Oliver, why didn’t you tell me? We can—there are things we can do and?—”
“Theo can help,” Oliver signs.
Oh, Chloe’s fear erupts when she hears that. But Oliver doesn’t know what I am, and I’m not terribly surprised when he goes on to say, “I can stay here. Away from all of them.”
Chloe rocks back on her heels, staring at him. I force myself to focus on the sounds of my territory: the soft lapping waves, the birdsong, the wind blowing through the trees. The symphonyof life coming from these two humans that I inexplicably care about.
“They’ll come looking for you,” Chloe says gently, brushing her hand over Oliver’s hair. “This is the first place they’ll check.”
“Theo will hide me,” Oliver says. “And protect me.”
Chloe twists around to look at me, her expression dark and suspicious, her fear so strong it masks the scent of pine and lake water. It hurts, seeing that suspicion on her face, but I understand why it’s there.
