against the door. Mom sat beside me, both of our backs against the unyielding metal.
“We’re both prisoners now, aren’t we?” I whispered.
Mom nodded. She wouldn’t look at me. She just kept staring out at the tiny, bleak room.
“For the last two days,” Mom said slowly, “the only thingthat’s kept me going is thinking about you, safe at Lynne’s house. I’ve imagined you laughing and talking and eating those horrible Fritos and Chee-tos and M&M’s, and drinking Coke, and thinking the biggest worry in the world is what grade you got on your geometry quiz….”
“Mom,” I protested, “even if I’d gone to Lynne’s, I would have been worrying about you. I wouldn’t have been able to laugh at all.”
“Really?” Mom said, and she sounded surprised.
“Oh, Mom, of course,” I said. “You’re my mother.” The word echoed a little in the empty room. I froze. I’d forgotten what Aunt Memory had told me about my true parents. But how could I believe Aunt Memory now? Probably every word she’d spoken to me had been a lie. I wanted to ask Mom, just to be sure, but the words stuck in my throat.
Mom saw the confusion on my face.
“You know, don’t you?” she asked quietly.
“Know what?” I said automatically. This was the voice I used to cover all my transgressions: “Curfew? What curfew?” “The last cookie? I didn’t know there was only one left.” “Parental permission slip? Was I supposed to have one of those?”
My voice of fake innocence sounded unnatural and entirely out of place in this empty room. This cell.
Mom was shaking her head.
“I think it is time for both of us to stop pretending,” she said. “If I had told you the truth years ago …”
“What? I would have been prepared to be kidnapped?” I asked. “Hey, maybe you should have sent me to some sort of training, ‘How to Be a Good Kidnap Victim.’ I’m sure they offer it at the Willistown Y.” I wanted Mom to laugh, but I’dforgotten again that Mom was my original kidnapper. Mom only looked grim.
“Mom, I still don’t know much,” I said. “Just what Aunt Memory told me. But she didn’t like it when I asked questions, and I kept asking questions anyhow!”
That’s when Mom smiled.
“Good for you,” she said.
“Yeah, but that’s when she brought me here,” I said. “And I wouldn’t give the exact speech she wanted me to give, begging for your release.”
Now alarm crept over Mom’s face.
“What was in the speech?”
I told her everything I could remember. Mom just kept shaking her head.
“They’re playing quite a game here,” she murmured. “But you didn’t say any of it?”
I shook my head emphatically. I told her what I’d said instead. She looked embarrassed.
“Well, um, thank you,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “I didn’t really know that you, um, loved me.”
I got choked up and couldn’t answer.
“Kira?” Mom said. “I shouldn’t be, but I’m glad you’re here with me.”
And then I totally lost it and sobbed again, burying my face against Mom’s shoulder.
Mom patted my back and murmured, “There, there, everything’s okay,” which was a lie, and both of us knew it. But it was still exactly what I wanted to hear. I probably sobbed longer than I needed to, just so Mom would keep comforting me.
Then I realized she’d stopped saying, “There, there,” andwas murmuring other words, practically to herself.
“… she had to have known that would hurt me most of all, pretending to be your Aunt Memory. To hear that name again, you screaming it, to
her
—”
“Mom?” I sat upright. “What are you talking about?”
“The lies you were told,” Mom said. “Kira, it is true that I’m not your mother. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t have the right to take you away from Crythe. You see … I’m your real Aunt Memory”
Twenty-Two
I STARED INTO M OM’S FACE . N O—MY TRUE A UNT M EMORY’S FACE . No—Sophia’s. I didn’t know what to call
“We’re both prisoners now, aren’t we?” I whispered.
Mom nodded. She wouldn’t look at me. She just kept staring out at the tiny, bleak room.
“For the last two days,” Mom said slowly, “the only thingthat’s kept me going is thinking about you, safe at Lynne’s house. I’ve imagined you laughing and talking and eating those horrible Fritos and Chee-tos and M&M’s, and drinking Coke, and thinking the biggest worry in the world is what grade you got on your geometry quiz….”
“Mom,” I protested, “even if I’d gone to Lynne’s, I would have been worrying about you. I wouldn’t have been able to laugh at all.”
“Really?” Mom said, and she sounded surprised.
“Oh, Mom, of course,” I said. “You’re my mother.” The word echoed a little in the empty room. I froze. I’d forgotten what Aunt Memory had told me about my true parents. But how could I believe Aunt Memory now? Probably every word she’d spoken to me had been a lie. I wanted to ask Mom, just to be sure, but the words stuck in my throat.
Mom saw the confusion on my face.
“You know, don’t you?” she asked quietly.
“Know what?” I said automatically. This was the voice I used to cover all my transgressions: “Curfew? What curfew?” “The last cookie? I didn’t know there was only one left.” “Parental permission slip? Was I supposed to have one of those?”
My voice of fake innocence sounded unnatural and entirely out of place in this empty room. This cell.
Mom was shaking her head.
“I think it is time for both of us to stop pretending,” she said. “If I had told you the truth years ago …”
“What? I would have been prepared to be kidnapped?” I asked. “Hey, maybe you should have sent me to some sort of training, ‘How to Be a Good Kidnap Victim.’ I’m sure they offer it at the Willistown Y.” I wanted Mom to laugh, but I’dforgotten again that Mom was my original kidnapper. Mom only looked grim.
“Mom, I still don’t know much,” I said. “Just what Aunt Memory told me. But she didn’t like it when I asked questions, and I kept asking questions anyhow!”
That’s when Mom smiled.
“Good for you,” she said.
“Yeah, but that’s when she brought me here,” I said. “And I wouldn’t give the exact speech she wanted me to give, begging for your release.”
Now alarm crept over Mom’s face.
“What was in the speech?”
I told her everything I could remember. Mom just kept shaking her head.
“They’re playing quite a game here,” she murmured. “But you didn’t say any of it?”
I shook my head emphatically. I told her what I’d said instead. She looked embarrassed.
“Well, um, thank you,” she said, avoiding my eyes. “I didn’t really know that you, um, loved me.”
I got choked up and couldn’t answer.
“Kira?” Mom said. “I shouldn’t be, but I’m glad you’re here with me.”
And then I totally lost it and sobbed again, burying my face against Mom’s shoulder.
Mom patted my back and murmured, “There, there, everything’s okay,” which was a lie, and both of us knew it. But it was still exactly what I wanted to hear. I probably sobbed longer than I needed to, just so Mom would keep comforting me.
Then I realized she’d stopped saying, “There, there,” andwas murmuring other words, practically to herself.
“… she had to have known that would hurt me most of all, pretending to be your Aunt Memory. To hear that name again, you screaming it, to
her
—”
“Mom?” I sat upright. “What are you talking about?”
“The lies you were told,” Mom said. “Kira, it is true that I’m not your mother. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t have the right to take you away from Crythe. You see … I’m your real Aunt Memory”
Twenty-Two
I STARED INTO M OM’S FACE . N O—MY TRUE A UNT M EMORY’S FACE . No—Sophia’s. I didn’t know what to call
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