days’ time.”
I was trembling by the time Daniel made the call to Memphis. The Novem had working phones. And probably Internet, too.
Daniel handed me the phone. On the fourth ring, Casey picked up. “Sanderson Bail and Bonds, this is Casey.”
I walked to the far wall. Sebastian waited by the door, leaning his back against it, arms crossed over his chest and impatient as hell to leave.
“Casey. It’s me.”
“Jesus Christ, Ari. Where are you? Bruce keeps trying your cell and all he gets is voice mail. We thought you’d be driving back by now.” She paused, and I could picture her—the two lines between her eyebrows deepening with worry, tucking her shoulder-length red hair behind one ear. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I met someone who knew my mother. She wants me to stay for a few days.
I
want to stay for a few days.”
“Oh. Well …” Her long pause told me I’d completely thrown her. “You know I want this for you, Ari. And I won’t stand in your way if this is what you want. But I am responsible for you. Is she there? Can I speak to her?”
I winced. “Sure. But before you freak out …”
Deep breath.
“I’m in New 2. And I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me going alone, but I had a lead, and it was just a quick trip and then I met Josephine and …” I paused for air, suddenly not knowing what to say next, only knowing that I’d blown it and lied, lied to the first set of foster parents who actually gave a damn.
Silence on the other end.
Finally Casey’s exhale wafted through the phone. “I guess I had a feeling you might go after finding out about the hospital. Look, I get it, I really do. But you can’t go running off without letting us know where you are. You’re not eighteen yet. Bruce and I, we care what happens to you. I know that’s probably hard to believe sometimes, but—”
“No,” I cut her off. “I know you care. I screwed up. I’m sorry.”
“Well, besides Bruce making you clean the office bathroom and do some sparring, I think we’re okay. You know how he is about hard work making one think. Just … don’t shut us out, okay? It doesn’t solve anything, doesn’t help anything.”
“Okay.”
I’m sorry. So sorry.
Didn’t matter how many times I told her, or told myself, I knew I’d never be able to relate how bad I felt inside.
“I’ve got an appointment in five. Let me talk to this Josephine person.”
Sebastian was right behind me on the stairs, yelling at me to wait, but I didn’t wait. To hell with him.
Anger and humiliation coursed through my blood. Anger at him, at Josephine, and at myself for lying. I was shit. Smelly, stinking shit, but what other kind was there really? Bruce was going to freak out when he found out. And Casey, her disappointment … God, that stung. I’d rather have her scream at me than just accept what I’d done, be understanding, and try to move on. I didn’t deserve it. And the worst part about it, I’d broken their trust.
By the time I burst through the ground-floor door and out into the wet street, I was so mad I could’ve screamed.
A fine drizzle fell. The musicians had retired and the street was empty. Lights from the ground-floor stores of the Pontalba apartments glowed warm in the gray mist, making the area seem totally desolate.
I paced in the middle of the street, grateful for the chill, wondering if the steam coming off me was from body heat or pure, white-hot anger, which I turned on Sebastian. “What the hell are you? And don’t change the fucking subject, or offer one of your vague-ass replies. I’m serious, Sebastian; I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
I waited, hands on hips, watching him as his stiff posture gave way. “My mother was an Arnaud,” he said. “But no matterwhat they say, I am more like my father.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “The nine families are divided into three groups. The Cromleys, Hawthornes, and Lamarlieres are
I was trembling by the time Daniel made the call to Memphis. The Novem had working phones. And probably Internet, too.
Daniel handed me the phone. On the fourth ring, Casey picked up. “Sanderson Bail and Bonds, this is Casey.”
I walked to the far wall. Sebastian waited by the door, leaning his back against it, arms crossed over his chest and impatient as hell to leave.
“Casey. It’s me.”
“Jesus Christ, Ari. Where are you? Bruce keeps trying your cell and all he gets is voice mail. We thought you’d be driving back by now.” She paused, and I could picture her—the two lines between her eyebrows deepening with worry, tucking her shoulder-length red hair behind one ear. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I met someone who knew my mother. She wants me to stay for a few days.
I
want to stay for a few days.”
“Oh. Well …” Her long pause told me I’d completely thrown her. “You know I want this for you, Ari. And I won’t stand in your way if this is what you want. But I am responsible for you. Is she there? Can I speak to her?”
I winced. “Sure. But before you freak out …”
Deep breath.
“I’m in New 2. And I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me going alone, but I had a lead, and it was just a quick trip and then I met Josephine and …” I paused for air, suddenly not knowing what to say next, only knowing that I’d blown it and lied, lied to the first set of foster parents who actually gave a damn.
Silence on the other end.
Finally Casey’s exhale wafted through the phone. “I guess I had a feeling you might go after finding out about the hospital. Look, I get it, I really do. But you can’t go running off without letting us know where you are. You’re not eighteen yet. Bruce and I, we care what happens to you. I know that’s probably hard to believe sometimes, but—”
“No,” I cut her off. “I know you care. I screwed up. I’m sorry.”
“Well, besides Bruce making you clean the office bathroom and do some sparring, I think we’re okay. You know how he is about hard work making one think. Just … don’t shut us out, okay? It doesn’t solve anything, doesn’t help anything.”
“Okay.”
I’m sorry. So sorry.
Didn’t matter how many times I told her, or told myself, I knew I’d never be able to relate how bad I felt inside.
“I’ve got an appointment in five. Let me talk to this Josephine person.”
Sebastian was right behind me on the stairs, yelling at me to wait, but I didn’t wait. To hell with him.
Anger and humiliation coursed through my blood. Anger at him, at Josephine, and at myself for lying. I was shit. Smelly, stinking shit, but what other kind was there really? Bruce was going to freak out when he found out. And Casey, her disappointment … God, that stung. I’d rather have her scream at me than just accept what I’d done, be understanding, and try to move on. I didn’t deserve it. And the worst part about it, I’d broken their trust.
By the time I burst through the ground-floor door and out into the wet street, I was so mad I could’ve screamed.
A fine drizzle fell. The musicians had retired and the street was empty. Lights from the ground-floor stores of the Pontalba apartments glowed warm in the gray mist, making the area seem totally desolate.
I paced in the middle of the street, grateful for the chill, wondering if the steam coming off me was from body heat or pure, white-hot anger, which I turned on Sebastian. “What the hell are you? And don’t change the fucking subject, or offer one of your vague-ass replies. I’m serious, Sebastian; I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
I waited, hands on hips, watching him as his stiff posture gave way. “My mother was an Arnaud,” he said. “But no matterwhat they say, I am more like my father.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. “The nine families are divided into three groups. The Cromleys, Hawthornes, and Lamarlieres are
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