Confessions: The Paris Mysteries by James Patterson Page A

me at home before driving Jacob and Hugo to soccer camp. I watched the taillights of the Mercedes round the corner, then went upstairs to my room.
    I found the black lacquered box in the corner of my suitcase. It looked like a jewelry box, and it had probably been used as such by Gram Hilda. Inside the box was anarray of Lazr and HiQ and, especially seductive, the pink gelcaps I knew as Num. Num could take me to a crisp, clean place where there was no fear, no pain, no anxiety. It was beautiful there.
    I picked up the ten remaining Num capsules and held them in my hand, rolling them back and forth in the cup of my palm. And then I dumped them back into their compartment and slammed down the lid of the box.
    Didn’t I
want
to have normal human emotions?
    Or had my parents been right when they’d told me emotions were a useless distraction?
    I knew I should take the pills to the bathroom and flush them down into the famous sewers of Paris. But I couldn’t quite do it. I put the box back in my suitcase and went downstairs.
    After a particularly awkward Jacob-made dinner of watery quiche, canned peas, and grapes, I returned to my room and opened my laptop.
    I had letters to write. It was damned well about time.

So my mother and father had
been pretty much my entire world before I met James. They made the rules, handed out the Grande Gongos and the Big Chops, and jacked us up with illegal drugs. And then they died.
    The evidence suggests that they drugged us to keep us on track to future success. But how had they ever thought we could survive in the world without the full use of our hearts?
    I say I’d loved them, but was I capable of that?
    Without overthinking, I wrote a letter to them on my laptop, letting the words flow from my fingertips:
    Dear Mother and Father,
    I have a few questions.
    Mother, you know I admired you. But I don’t understand. Didn’t you want me to fall in love? Didn’t you want me to get married and have someone love me as much as Malcolm loved you?
    Father, I wanted to be just like you. I followed you around and tried to learn everything you knew, because I thought you were the smartest man ever. So how could you use your children as lab animals? You couldn’t have known the long-term effects of those drugs. We still don’t know.
    Did you know what really happened to Katherine? Do you know who killed her?
    And here’s the big question for both of you, the one I really hate to ask: Did you love any of your children, really love us?
    Your daughter,
    Tandy
    I felt sorry for myself, sure. And after the tears stopped leaking out of my eyes, I hit the delete key. A window popped up and asked,
Are you sure you want to delete this e-mail?
    Yes. I’m sure.
    I turned off the light next to the bed, but I couldn’t stop thinking.
    I don’t think I slept at all.

Overnight, my somber bottom-of-the-sea depression morphed
into the foulest possible anger. Like a gathering squall about to break over a small island in the middle of the ocean.
    I glared and grunted at breakfast, then got into the front seat of the house chariot with Monsieur Morel so I didn’t have to talk to anyone. When we disembarked fifteen minutes later at the convent school, I barked at Harry for walking on my heels.
    He said, “Shut up, Tandy. Meet me at lunch. I’ve got something to tell you.”
    At noon, I made it to the lunchroom before Harry did.
    The Sisters of Charity didn’t have the kind of cafeteriawe have in schools at home. Tables lined a windowed wall and were laden with baskets of bread, a kettle of clear soup, fruit and cheese, and compotes of pudding. I was suddenly ravenous.
    When Harry showed up, we loaded up our trays and walked together to an empty table.
    I was fully aware of the kids around us, with their racket reverberating through the big hall. They seemed so young to me, so innocent. Nothing like me or my brothers.
    I dipped bread in my soup, and as I ate, I kept my eyes on Harry.
    His face was flushed. His