Twenty Five
At half past one in the morning, Fox pulls into his driveway. The house looks the same as it did during Brynn’s dinner party: a white country exterior and a backyard view of the cliffs. It’s nice that some things can stay constant in the chaos.
Fox drives into the attached garage, which automatically folds closed behind us, making us safe. He helps me up the stairs into the house and I stagger forward.
“Welcome to my kingdom.” He pushes the door with his sneaker, and it swings open to reveal an anxious Brynn Levine and a half-hyper, half-yawning Jamie waiting in their kitchen.
Brynn still wears her formal gown from Hallowfest, a violet halter that looks uncomfortable.
Jamie has sleepy hair and wears Golden Ace pajamas.
“I’m glad you all made it back.” Brynn brings her hand to her chest. “I feel like I can breathe again.”
That makes one of us .
Brynn pulls a chair from the kitchen table and brings it to where I lean against the wall. “Would you prefer ice or a hot pack?” she asks.
I glance at Arielle, who’s still technically my swim coach and the expert on muscle-related matters, for her input.
“Something to drink?” Arielle suggests. Arielle plops down at the table beside Jamie.
“Water?” Brynn opens the refrigerator.
“Vodka, if you have it, would be great,” says Arielle. Jamie gawks like she made a joke, but straightens when he realizes she hasn’t.
“Of course.” Brynn reaches for some glasses from a cupboard. “Madeline?”
“Water’s good.”
Fox helps Brynn pour our drinks. In only one night, Fox already seems more mature.
Has he been mature the whole time, and just tired of putting on the act?
Or, has he figured out that when you’re as smart and capable as he is, you should behave like it, because you owe it to everyone who isn’t?
He notices me and winks. He had to ruin it.
Brynn hugs us when she passes out the glasses, since she missed hugging us when we came in. It’s as if Brynn always knew Arielle and I aren’t as invincible as we pretend to be, and she’s happy we’re letting her see it.
“Arielle, you’re in my room,” she says. “Please, both of you, borrow anything from my closet. You’re both smaller than me, so it should still fit.”
I study Brynn. She’s tall and athletic with shoulder-length blonde hair. I’m definitely smaller than she is, but she and Arielle are the same size, and almost the same height. I didn’t realize how similar they looked before.
Brynn continues, “Madeline, you’ll be in Jamie’s room.”
“Don’t take anything from my closet though,” Jamie pipes up. “You’ll stretch it out.” He giggles at his joke. Fox cocks an eyebrow.
“Madeline and I can sleep in the basement,” Arielle says. “I’m sure that would be easier for you.”
“Definitely not.” Brynn shakes her head before anyone can fully process that Arielle Bridges just offered to sleep on a floor instead of in a queen-sized bed.
Wait. Anxiety jolts me awake. My dad. It makes sense for me to hide at Fox’s house, since Phil’s probably searching for me now, in addition to Arielle, but my dad’s at our apartment—alone.
Not only would hurting Dad give Phil leverage over Arielle and me, but if anyone knew what Mom was working on before she died… it would be Dad.
“Arielle?” I ask. “What about Dad?”
“Shoot. Can you call him? He’s at home, right? They must have already looked for me there.”
I fumble with my phone, but before I can turn it on, Fox blurts, “Hold on. I saw this documentary once where the police could find any phone from a single call, regardless of whether the location is on. They might be waiting for you to call your dad. They’ll be able to trace what number called him and run it through a cellphone tower to get its GPS coordinates. ”
“Cops need a wiretap to do that,” says Arielle. “It would take days to set one up.” She sees my dumbfounded expression and adds, “I saw the same documentary.”
“You don’t think they have a wire up already?” asks Fox.
“Not yet,” she answers with complete certainty. She pivots toward me, her muddy dress skating around Brynn’s immaculate tile floor. “Go ahead, Madeline.”
“Isn’t spying on Dad’s apartment like, the definition of corruption?” I point out. When Arielle ignores me, I power up my phone, double-checking that the location is still off. “This is some real spy crap, you know that?”
My dad picks up on the first ring. “Madeline? What’s going on?”
“It’s alright, Dad,” I do my best to sound reassuring. “Where are you?”
“The apartment. Phil came and said you were both kidnapped. I called Officer Kyle, but he couldn’t give me any updates.”
“We’re safe, I promise. I think we’ll be able to come home soon. Wait one sec.” I turn to everyone in the kitchen. “Is there any way to check on him? Locking the doors might not be enough.”
“I could,” Brynn offers.
“Phil’s definitely got people spying on the apartment,” Arielle says. “If they see you, they’ll follow you back.”
“I won’t stop then,” says Brynn. “I’ll just drive by and check for a struggle. Phil’s not looking for me, and I can claim I’m coming home from Hallowfest if I get pulled over.”
Arielle nods, confirming the plan.
I bring the phone back up to my ear. “Lock the doors, Dad, and turn on the light in the front hall if you’re okay, but keep it off if you aren’t.
” Brynn could check for that. “If you need the dobermans, Ms. Pellingham’s gate unlocks on the bottom, near the first stair up to our porch. Love you and see you soon.”
“Be careful,” he says with a crack in his voice. “Love you both.”
When he hangs up, Brynn gathers her keys and grabs a jacket to wear over her dress. Luckily, she still hasn’t changed. This could work.
“Facecloths are in the hall at the top of the stairs,” Brynn tells Arielle.
“Have fun in the basement,” Fox says to Jamie, coming to help me stand.
“I can show her. It’s my room,” Jamie protests.
Fox shoots me an I-told-you so look. “Knock yourself out.”
Jamie puts my arm over his shoulder and awkwardly tries to support me the way Fox had, but he doesn’t have the height to be as helpful.
It takes about five minutes for us to walk from the kitchen, through the living room, and over to the stairs.
Fox trots along behind me, waiting when Jamie has to stop and think about how to maneuver the pair of us up the stairs.
My forearms ache the most, but a throb in my elbow triggers a memory. Before I’d held out my arms to explode our old house’s kitchen, Arielle poured water over them, giving me instant energy. “Hey,” I say. “I could use a shower. Can you just help me to the bathroom?”
“Of course.” Jamie nods, a gentleman.
It takes fifteen minutes, but the shower helps my aching.
I’m still stiff when I finish, but rejuvenated enough to use my legs again.
D.S. told me I have to build strength, and stay hydrated to keep my powers from exhausting me every time I use them.
I can do that. A big t-shirt and plush shorts wait for me when I come out of the shower. Brynn’s old clothes.
Jamie’s room is painted blue and has a double bed in the middle that I immediately flop onto. His shelves are decorated with trophies from his own swimming feats, though he said he wanted to quit. The walls hold retro album covers and maps of the country. Pretty sophisticated for a twelve-year-old.
“All set?” Jamie’s sweet voice comes from the doorway as I gather myself for sleep. Jamie looks identical to twelve-year-old Fox: same wild, blond tufts, same easy smile that he offered a hundred times a day, before the snickering and sarcasm would take over.
“Is Brynn back?” I ask.
Jamie stifles a yawn. “Not yet. Wait.” The garage whirs open, the sound coming in the cracked window. “Yes. Um. I should head down now. Obviously, that’s the bed,” he points. “It’s clean.”
“Thanks, Jamie. Thanks for staying up to hang out with us.”
“Anytime. It’s been good to have you guys around. Not that why you’re here is good,” he stops. “See you tomorrow.”
“See ya, big guy.” I hop up and start to close the door, but Arielle pokes her head in.
“Dad’s safe,” she tells me. “Front porch light was on, and Brynn will check again tomorrow.”
I nod. “My phone’s off, but the passcode is H-0-T-D-0-G if you need to use it for anything.”
She touches my elbow to comfort me, which does more than that. Now that I’ve had more time to process our conversation from earlier, the coldness I’ve felt from her is replaced by my guilt.
Not only did Arielle give up pieces of herself when she married Phil, she had to commit to her role knowing it would hurt our Dad and me. The smallest gesture from her feels as if we’re finally coming home again.
I shift from the bed to switch off the light when a quick tap comes from the doorway. I don’t have to turn to know it’s Fox, but I do anyway, because it’s polite to face the people you’re talking to.
“Charming, isn’t it?” He holds up a yellow water bottle. “Thought you might want this.”
“Nice pajamas,” I reply, giving a quick glance over his plaid pants and loose pink shirt.
He sets the bottle on the bureau opposite me and leans against the drawers, crossing one leg over the other.
“You’re all set?” he asks.
“I’d like to go to bed while I’m still seventeen, thanks.” I comb my hand through my wet hair and finally rest it on the pillow over my head.
“Remember, my room is next door. If you wake up in the middle of the night and forget where you are. Arielle is down the hall.”
“How come you get to keep your room, but your brother and sister have to sleep in the basement?”
Fox pulls up my sheets, unaware that my shower has helped me return to almost full stamina.
“Mine’s tight for guests,” Fox replies. “With all them trophies.” He adjusts my pillows, his fingers catching in my hair, and looks at me through those long lashes. His thumb accidentally brushes my ear, hovering for a heartbeat.
When did Fox become so thoughtful?