Chapter 21
Quinn
My dad stumbled into the living room carrying a cardboard box like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
He tripped on nothing, banged his shin on a big armchair, and managed to drop the box mostly on the couch next to me, before crumpling to the floor.
He pulled a bottle of liquor off the top of the box.
I muted Willow on the TV and gaped. “Dad, you don’t drink!”
“I do today.” He took a sip directly from the bottle. “Doctor Oz accepted you for brain surgery. It’s scheduled in four months.”
He punched the box, and we listened to its contents rattle, before silence filled the room.
“And they sent an entire box to let me know?” I felt stupid asking, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“No. This…” Pain filled my dad’s face, making the wrinkles etch deep lines across his skin. “This is why you need the surgery.”
I tilted the box toward me. Inside, a collection of plastic freezer bags filled with colorful bits was haphazardly stacked. I picked up the first one. His handwriting sprawled across it with the date, time, and name of an object. I stared at it, frozen. I’d been three when he labeled this.
“I was there the first time you touched something and reduced it to bits.” My dad’s voice trembled now, and I could hear the weight of regret in each word.
“I couldn’t believe my eyes. And then you did it again and again.
I praised you for it and gave you all kinds of attention, which made you do it more.
And then you went to preschool and did it there.
Except none of the teachers saw it; only the other kids. ”
The words broke something in me, and I squeezed the bag tighter, trying to hold it together.
He took a drink. “They told me I was a bad parent for letting you believe in things that weren’t real.
Over the next year, I had to stop praising you.
Toddlers don’t understand subtlety, and it was either all or nothing.
When you got a little older, one of your teachers showed me a video of you pulling every fiber out of a blanket and claiming you were magical…
and I knew I’d done that to you. Magic isn’t real.
I’d been so excited for you to be different that I hadn’t loved you for everything else. ”
Tears welled in my eyes, and I squeezed the bag filled with my demolished childhood.
“So, I told you to stop. Instead of praising you, I chastised you. And you did stop, but then the blackouts started. So, I took you to psychologists who gave you drugs and me advice, and all of that led us to here, my baby, my only child, getting part of her brain cut out.”
“Dad… this isn’t your fault.”
“Isn’t it? I’ve spent twenty years trying to convince both of us you aren’t magical, but that park ranger said one minute he was helping you stand, and the next he was lying naked, in agony with every non-organic part of his body lying in the dirt.”
My dad took another swig.
I squeezed the bag. “Are you saying I’m magical and I shouldn’t get the surgery?”
The colors of the movie flickered across the room.
My dad looked up at me, burped, and hung his head.
“No. Quinn.” He rested his hand on the box.
“I’m a coward, and I don’t want you to hurt anyone else.
” He looked up, clasping his hands together exactly like I do.
“I needed you to know that you’re not alone.
And I’m sorry. I love being your dad more than anything in the world, but I’m not good at it.
At this point, I don’t think what you are matters if you can’t have a meaningful life. ”
Tears ran down my face.
I moved the box to the side, slipped onto the floor, and wrapped my arms around my dad. “I love you, too, Dad. I love having you as a dad, more than anything in the world.”
Erick completely changed his tune. Instead of being a complete dick, he let me set the alarm on his TB for my first five a.m. shift on the train. Because I was a woman, it was that simple.
“You need to do what?” Erick exclaimed when I’d asked him last night after the party.
“I have work-study—” I started to explain, but Erick cut me off.
“No. Quinn. This isn’t how the world works. You shouldn’t be taking these placements. You’re a woman. A powerful woman who should be popping out babies. You have a life of ease in any family waiting for you, without all this crap.”
My face scrunched up like I’d bitten into a lemon.
Erick’s scowl deepened. “The Architect’s not protecting you.
” He stabbed a finger toward our landing.
“You’re being harassed, Quinn. Brody’s a piece of work.
His parents booted him out after he locked up his older sister for two days because she ‘broke the rules’ and who knows what else he did to others before that.
He lied to get through the Architect’s walls.
And now he’s free to do whatever he wants. It’s madness.”
I dropped my gaze to the floor.
Erick tossed his arms into the air. “It’s not protection you need, Quinn. He should be showering you with gifts and begging to be between your legs. My family would be.”
I raised an eyebrow. “But not you?”
Erick scowled at me. A hint of something deeper filled his face before it morphed into a sleazy smile. “If you want an Adler Michelson in you, I can make that happen. All you have to do is ask.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Just the alarm, please.”
Erick gave a dramatic bow. “As m’lady doth request.” He took out his TB. “But know this is a shit deal, little sis. You have options.”
I pursed my lips. Before I could respond, a polite knock came from our door.
Erick handed me his TB before going down to the landing.
The door unlocked and opened. “You look edible. Just up the stairs and I’ll unwrap your delicious packaging.
” A moment later, he led a tall woman with milky-white hair and a tight, off-the-shoulder dress toward our communal couch.
“My roommate was going to bed, unless you wanted to join us?” Erick offered.
Still slightly intoxicated, I blinked a few times. “You’re going to, um, while I’m here?”
“I said you could join us.” Erick moved behind the woman and kissed her bare neck, still looking at me. Her eyes fluttered, and she leaned into him.
I had zero interest in his offer and did not want to be here for the show. For a heartbeat, I considered running back out and finding my friends.
The weight of Brody’s stare had followed me all night, and Erick’s warning about his past made my skin prickle.
He’d been using the secret of my gender as leverage, and now that card was gone.
I doubted he’d take the loss well. He could be lurking in the hall right now, waiting for a late-night run-in.
If he’d been watching my dorm, he would have seen this woman enter and assumed I’d come running out to him.
I grimaced. “Pass, but you two have fun.” I ducked under my bed, where I’d managed to hang up a few sheets to give me some privacy, and stripped off my beautiful dress.
The sounds of cringey foreplay filled the room. “So perky. Push those fun bags together, just for me.”
Was that meant to be sexy?
After carefully depositing the dress in my void, I pulled on my pajamas and shuffled to my ladder.
Erick already had the woman mostly naked.
I did my best to ignore them as I crawled into my bed and stuffed my pillow over my head.
Thankfully, I’d had enough to drink that I passed out before any moans or grunts could invade my subconscious.
My play-by-play of last night ended. I found myself staring at my hands.
They ached and slightly trembled from overuse.
Oil had sunk into the cracks, making them look weathered and ancient.
After my extra three hours of hauling crates and cleaning train parts, I was definitely wondering what those options Erick mentioned were.
Maybe if I had magic, it wouldn’t be so bad. By the time my full shift ended, I could barely lift my arms.
I stumbled to the Happy Rooster. The sun barely peeked out of the gray sky.
However, it wasn’t raining, and people filled the outside tables and chairs.
Most of them didn’t notice me in my overalls with grease smudged on my forehead.
The few that did turned to their friends and whispered.
One man waved, and I waved back because that’s what people do.
Tension released in my gut. Despite Erick’s reaction, so far, nothing was really that different.
I hadn’t done much to pretend I was a boy.
It seemed the Architect’s family goal, ‘equality for all,’ held up, so far.
Moreover, an authority figure hadn’t appeared to reprimand me or limit me further, which reinforced what Brit said about the Architect building something fair.
On some level, I wanted Ezra to confront me. I hadn’t seen him since our moment at the cannons, and as angry as I was at him, I also missed him. Why was this so complicated?
I got a foot from the entry before Brody slid to my front and cut me off. “We need to talk.”
“We definitely do not.” I physically pushed past him and rushed to the bar. “Matt, coffee, food, TB. In that order.”
The judgmental, burnt-caramel-haired bartender paled. He glanced around before quickly pulling me into the back. “You can’t use the front door.”
“I did.” I pointed out. “Do I need to repeat myself?”
He grimaced. “It's the back door from now on. And I need you polishing. We’re overrun this morning. How long can you stay?”
I jerked back. “Ah, five minutes? Do I look like I want to be here? I’m only doing this because it’s the only way to see my TB. Unless these hours suddenly count toward my debt.”
“That’s not my decision.” Matt put his hands up.
I mimicked him. “Then you being short-staffed isn’t my problem.”
Matt gritted his teeth and leaned forward.
My heart raced. I loved being bold Quinn.