34. Caleb
Chapter 34
Caleb
T ime is a tricky thing. Sometimes it moves slowly, like when I realized Margo had overheard my conversation with the Bryans, or walking into my parents’ room and finding Dad covered in blood. It inched along every second Margo was missing.
Other times, it moves too quickly: racing like the clock can’t withhold it anymore.
Time.
The only thing that could possibly save me is working against me.
I count down the seconds, eyes glued to the dash, and too soon, handfuls of minutes have passed.
Claire asked if I remembered her, and I didn’t have an answer. But the truth?
Yes. I did, and I wished I didn’t.
Past
Margo had just left for school. It had been a while since I was here. I had been trying for almost a year to scrub her from my brain. Since I’d been living with the Blacks, my mindset changed the slightest bit.
She wasn’t the boogieman I had to fear, like my uncle always pushed on me.
She was just a disease to be eradicated.
I watched her disappear down the sidewalk, into the mist. There was a bus stop around the corner. At the beginning of the year, I checked the Stone Ridge paper to see where she might take it. What time. I wondered at the commute length, if students on the bus would pick on her or leave her alone.
I climbed out of my car and crossed the street.
The door flew open before I could ring the bell, and a young girl stared up at me. Her mouth dropped open.
Another girl appeared. She was closer to Margo’s age.
I silently cursed myself for not waiting just another moment.
“Caleb,” the older girl blurted out. “Right?”
My lip curled. How did she know my name?
Their foster mother appeared behind them. “Girls? What—oh, hello. Can I help you with something?”
“I just wanted to speak to you,” I said.
Foster siblings.
Interesting .
How attached did she get to them?
Cindy, the foster mom, huffed at me. She was in a certain state of distress: her hair still had curlers in it, her makeup seemed mostly finished, but she still wore pajama pants.
“Come in, then,” she said.
She called to her husband, and suddenly the three of us were in the kitchen.
I looked down at the table we had gathered around. There were dirty bowls—only two of them, one was by the sink—and a half-drunk glass of milk. The husband was a bit frazzled, too, with his hair sticking up straight and his tie loose.
“I must commend you both on taking on such a problem foster,” I said to them.
“Problem foster?” Cindy asked. She turned to her husband, raising her eyebrows. “Claire?”
My eyebrow ticked up.
“You don’t mean Margo,” the husband, Jeff, said. “She’s been a saint.”
“She’s a good actress,” I lied.
I told this family that I knew her. That I could see right into her soul and know the truth. Even though it was a lie—I had known her in the past, but not anymore. We grew up apart. It was just my need to keep uprooting her that forced me to hunt her.
The foster parents were worried. I saw it in the lines creasing between their brows and the way they glanced at each other.
“She gets jealous easily,” I said.
Cindy’s hand was resting on her stomach, and I went with my hunch.
“She can dissolve into fits of rage. I saw it happen a time or two. I can’t imagine what she would do if there was a baby in the house stealing all the attention.”
Jeff shook his head. “How do you know that?”
“We used to be friends.” I shook my head. “But she caused my father’s death and broke apart her whole family. She’s destructive. Dangerous. Even if…” My lips twisted. “Even if she acts like a saint.”
“Two years,” Cindy said faintly. “Two years we’ve had these children, and Margo…”
I watched her. It only took an ounce of doubt to infect her viewpoint. She was already classed as a runaway—what next?
“Thank you for letting us know,” Jeff said. “But why now?”
I glanced away. Part of the act. Shame, guilt. “I lost track of her, and honestly? I thought she might get better. But then I saw her the other day, and she was acting just the same as she used to.”
I never saw her. Today was first time I’d even glimpsed her in a year, and it was the back of her head.
It wasn’t enough .
But soon, she’d be back. Time was running out, and a certain foster home had opened up in Rose Hill.
Did I have a hand in it? No.
Did my uncle? Well, he never denied it.
It was my time to leave. Cindy and Jeff didn’t strike me as particularly trusting people, and they were starting to eye me. It may not be an immediate decision to make Margo move on, but as I said—an ounce of doubt was all they needed.
Just out the door, and Margo’s foster sister—the older one—was waiting for me.
“You are Caleb, aren’t you?” she asked.
I raised my eyebrow.
She grinned at me, eyes wide. “You’re more handsome than she said.”
“She shouldn’t be talking about me.” I let my gaze run up and down her body. “And you shouldn’t be talking to me.”
“I’ve never been one to follow the rules.” She winked. “Nice meeting you, Caleb. I’ll see you around.”