“He didn’t shoot her,” Olive whispered.
“That doesn’t mean she’s alive.”
“The brain can do a lot of things,” Olive said, “but it can’t distinguish between what’s really happening, and what you’re imagining. That’s why scary movies scare you and why you cry at Nicholas Sparks books.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
“You talk like a teacher,” Wren said.
“Guilty as charged,” Olive said. “I used to teach at the college.”
She considered the woman who’d insisted she did not belong here. Olive could have said the same. The Center was all about reproductive choices, and she didn’t have any of those left. But she would never have jeopardized Wren’s life by throwing open the closet door to save her own skin.
“If I die,” Wren murmured, “they’ll make a shrine at school.”
Olive turned at the sound of her voice.
“They’ll put flowers underneath my locker. And posters sayingREST IN PEACE,and photos of me doing stupid things, like with my face painted for Spirit Day or dressed like Supergirl for Halloween. It happened last year, with a girl who died of leukemia,” Wren said softly. “All these people pretending they miss me, when they never even knew me.”
Olive reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You’re not going to die,” she said.
As if to punctuate her promise, Wren’s phone buzzed.
—
RUSTILL SAFE?Hugh texted.
Those three dots appeared, scrolling, and he let out the breath he was holding.
There was someone yelling & then a thud & now it’s quiet.
He wondered how many women were in there, other than his daughter and his sister.
He knew his responsibility was to every hostage inside the Center, but the truth was, he was thinking only of Bex and Wren.
Aunt Bex?he typed.
??? don’t know.
When he was a kid, and he’d gone somewhere after school, Bex used to insist that he call her when he arrived. He hated it—it made him feel like he was the biggest loser. It wasn’t until he had Wren, and worried about her every minute she wasn’t with him, that he understood why his sister had been so vigilant. The reason you hold on to someone too tightly isn’t always to protect them—sometimes it’s to protect yourself.
Hugh stared down at his phone, as if he could will Wren courage, strength, hope.Stay calm,he texted.
...
...
Daddy,Wren wrote,I’m scared.
She had not called him Daddy for a long time.
When Wren was little, Hugh had come upstairs to find her scrubbing her face with lemons, trying to get rid of her freckles.I have spots,she had said. I’m ugly.
You’re beautiful,he’d told her,and those are constellations.
The truth was, she was his universe.
