I switch into fresh clothes and scrape my hair up into a bun. There’s somewhere I need to go. There’s something I need to remember.
It’s clawing at the wall in my mind, desperately insistent to be acknowledged.
I find Robert in his office.
He looks up when I knock on the open door, a grin spreading. “Margo. I thought you might decide to rest today.”
I frown. “I was actually hoping… I need to go out.”
His eyebrow jumps, then settles. “Where?”
“Caleb’s house.”
He sighs. “Why?”
“There’s…” I spin the bracelet on my wrist. “There’s just something that’s been bugging me about my old home. And I was hoping to take one more peek…”
He stands. “Okay.”
He slips past me, down the hall.
“What are you doing?” I call.
“Driving you,” he answers.
My mouth drops open, and I chase after him. “You don’t have to. I can walk—”
“It’s no trouble.” He holds up the keys, winking at me. “We can stop and get a pastry on the way back.”
I nod slowly. The car ride is quick, and then we’re there. In the same driveway, staring up at Caleb’s empty house.
“No one lives here,” I tell him.
“I know.” He glances at me. “We recognized your last name when Angela was searching for a home. Most of the foster families in the town were aware of what had happened between the Wolfes and the Ashers.”
I frown. “I don’t really remember it.”
His smile is sad. “Trauma affects children differently. Some lash out. Some get quiet. We took a class on dealing with loss—”
“I didn’t lose anyone.” I cross my arms over my chest. “They’re both still out there.”
He twists toward me. “If you want to see your dad, Margo, we can arrange that—”
“I don’t.”
Mom left. Dad was taken away.
They’re still alive. And if I hadn’t done whatever it is Caleb thinks I did—
I open the car door. The answers I want are in my home.
“I’ll be back,” I tell him.
Down the driveway, through a door into the backyard, then the Asher’s guest house is in front of me. I should stop thinking of it as home, even though it’s the only one I ever knew. We were there for most of my life.
The door is locked, but we used to keep a spare key in the plant box under the window around the corner. I’m sure Caleb was the one to lock it. He’s the only one who would want to keep me out.
I find the key and brush off the crusted dirt. It’s dull, with rust spots, but it still works. The door opens under my hand. Absently, I pocket the key.
It’s like walking into the past—but not the past that I want to remember. Not the disrupted, angry place that I’ve forgotten. No, it’s like…
Sunshine.
Past
“Margo!”
I jerked upright. The sun had felt so good beating down on my face that I closed my eyes. It was just for a minute.
Mom burst into my room, gaze going straight to my face. “What are you doing on the floor?”
I shrugged.
Sundays were a big day for her, which meant her white chef’s coat was pristine. She meal-prepped lunches for the Ashers to take to work, and then she came home and do the same for us. Now she smoothed it down, a calming gesture for her.
“Lydia wanted to know if you would like to go to the park with them.”
I perked up. I wasn’t allowed to call Mrs. Asher by her first name, but Mom was. I guessed it was an adult thing. Caleb called my mom Amberly.
So maybe it was a me thing.
“When?”
“Now.” She laughed. She came over and held out her hands, lifting me to my feet. “If you want. I made sandwiches for a picnic.”
“Are you going?”
She shook her head. “No, I have some things to do around the house.”
I bit my lip.
“Your dad will be home later,” she said, reading my mind. “He just got caught up at the office.”
On a Sunday.
Even I knew it was unusual for him to work on a weekend.
“Okay,” I said.
She brushed her hand over my clothes, straightening my shirt and smoothing my hair. “Perfect.”
I smiled.
Lydia and Caleb were in the kitchen when we walked in. Caleb sat at the breakfast bar, dutifully finishing breakfast. I had eaten hours ago, pouring myself a bowl of cereal after I woke and discovered the house empty.
My stomach growled.
Mom tapped the back of my head like it was my fault my stomach was being loud.
“Good morning, Margo,” Lydia greeted me.
I smiled at her. “Hi.”
Caleb twisted around. “I lost a tooth.”
I climbed up on the stool next to him. He gave me a wide smile, showing a gap in his teeth. I grimaced. I hated plucking out loose teeth. The last one that wiggled, Caleb reached in my mouth and snatched it out.
He wouldn’t give it back for the tooth fairy, either.
My mom kissed me on the head. “Have fun. I’ll see you later.”
We watched her go back to the house.
“All right.” Lydia clapped. “Ready?”
She buckled us into our seats in the car. We were old enough to do it ourselves—that’s what Caleb told her, anyway, but she just smiled.
“You’re growing up before my eyes.” She kissed him on the forehead.
Something in my chest tightened and loosened at the same time.
Mom liked me. But she didn’t like me that much.
And Dad…
“Are you okay, Margo?” Lydia asked.
Mom would kill me if I told the Ashers anything, so I nodded.
We got to the park, and Lydia laid out a blanket. It was warm and sunny, and Caleb took off toward some of his friends. I sprawled out next to Lydia and closed my eyes again. The sun heated my body.
In the distance, Caleb and his friends were laughing.
Laughing.
Screaming.
Blank.
No, I need to remember.
Caleb and his friends were playing.
I sat up, confused. Alone.
Blank.
I screamed.
Present
I open my eyes, looking around slowly. I’m in my old bedroom, curled into a ball on the floor. How I got here is a mystery. One minute I was walking into the house, the next… a memory.
But it isn’t as sharp as I need it to be.
It isn’t as clear.
I stand and go to the dresser, acting on a suspicion. It’s a shock more than anything to see a trail of disturbed dust.
Caleb and I were in here before, and then he shows up with the bracelet at the ball?
I had lost it.
I was helpless, scrambling across the floor of my makeshift room. Then Angela took me away. All that time, I thought a foster sibling had taken it, or the parents tossed it.
He stole it.
He brought it back here, set it on my dresser in a house that hasn’t been touched in seven years.
Who’s pretending now?
8
Margo