flipped the light bulb on in her brain, she began to get a picture. Just him and his father living here, his face that appeared melted, the sadness that always seemed to shadow him. She’d seen scars like his before, on other burn victims. Not in Orchid, of course, but on TV and in photos. In her mind she saw a picture of a blazing fire and Alex trying to get into whatever was burning to rescue his mom and sister, and failing.
“They were . . . burned?” she asked.
“I couldn’t get to them,” he repeated. “I tried, Calli, I swear I did. If I hadn’t screwed around with my friends after school. If I had just gone straight home I might have been able to get them out before it started. If I had . . .”
His hand tightened in hers. She wanted to glance up at him, but didn’t want him to see the tears of grief and pity that filled her eyes. She did the math in her head. It had to happen before they’d moved here or everyone would know about it. They’d been here eight years, he was seventeen, and certainly some time had to have passed between that and their moving to Orchid.
“Alex, you were, what, like seven, eight years old? An eight year old can’t be responsible for something like that.”
When he remained silent she looked up at him. His jaw clenched, lips pulled tight, a mixture of grief and guilt coloring his expression.
She turned around so she faced him, and placed her hands on both sides of his face. He flinched as she touched the damaged side, whether from pain or something else she didn’t know. But she felt strongly that if she removed her hand, there would be no going back.
“Alex, look at me.” He brought anguished eyes to hers. “You were a little boy. What could you possibly have done if you’d been there?”
He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut again. “Alex,” she said, pleading. Suddenly he sat forward and wrapped his arms around her. He leaned into her, laying his forehead against her shoulder. She put her arms around his broad shoulders and he turned his head, burying his face in her neck. She tightened her hold on him and he reciprocated. Her heart cracked at the burden Alex carried. She couldn’t imagine why he carried the guilt. On top of that he carried the physical evidence of his failure, the evidence that kept him from living a normal life, that made him something to be stared at and mocked. To be called monster. And she had been part of that. She thought that at this moment her self-recrimination might just match Alex’s.
They sat that way for a long time. Calli thought she could sit there forever and hold him if it would help ease his pain at all.
Finally he released her. “We should go back in,” he said, not meeting her eyes. She nodded. He stood and held out a hand to help her up. He locked the door behind them, and led the way back down the hall. She stepped into the stairwell and waited while he closed the door behind them. He pushed past her, taking her hand and leading her silently back down the stairs and into the closet. He immediately dropped her hand once he opened the closet and they were back in the light.
They returned to Mr. Palmer, Alex still not saying anything. Calli felt he was probably feeling vulnerable. Just before Mr. Palmer left, Alex slipped from the room, still without a word. Not surprisingly, he didn’t join them for dinner.
* * * * *
Saturday morning, Alex watched from his private cove as Calli climbed into the cab that his father had called for her. She glanced backward once, as if searching. She looked up toward the cove. Alex knew she couldn’t see him. Her shoulders slumped and she climbed into the yellow car.
Alex was angry with himself for telling her what he had, for allowing her to see that side of him that he hid even from his father. He’d been reserved with her the rest of the week in spite of her attempts to tease him out of his mood.
He’d never admit it, but he dreaded the next two days without
“They were . . . burned?” she asked.
“I couldn’t get to them,” he repeated. “I tried, Calli, I swear I did. If I hadn’t screwed around with my friends after school. If I had just gone straight home I might have been able to get them out before it started. If I had . . .”
His hand tightened in hers. She wanted to glance up at him, but didn’t want him to see the tears of grief and pity that filled her eyes. She did the math in her head. It had to happen before they’d moved here or everyone would know about it. They’d been here eight years, he was seventeen, and certainly some time had to have passed between that and their moving to Orchid.
“Alex, you were, what, like seven, eight years old? An eight year old can’t be responsible for something like that.”
When he remained silent she looked up at him. His jaw clenched, lips pulled tight, a mixture of grief and guilt coloring his expression.
She turned around so she faced him, and placed her hands on both sides of his face. He flinched as she touched the damaged side, whether from pain or something else she didn’t know. But she felt strongly that if she removed her hand, there would be no going back.
“Alex, look at me.” He brought anguished eyes to hers. “You were a little boy. What could you possibly have done if you’d been there?”
He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut again. “Alex,” she said, pleading. Suddenly he sat forward and wrapped his arms around her. He leaned into her, laying his forehead against her shoulder. She put her arms around his broad shoulders and he turned his head, burying his face in her neck. She tightened her hold on him and he reciprocated. Her heart cracked at the burden Alex carried. She couldn’t imagine why he carried the guilt. On top of that he carried the physical evidence of his failure, the evidence that kept him from living a normal life, that made him something to be stared at and mocked. To be called monster. And she had been part of that. She thought that at this moment her self-recrimination might just match Alex’s.
They sat that way for a long time. Calli thought she could sit there forever and hold him if it would help ease his pain at all.
Finally he released her. “We should go back in,” he said, not meeting her eyes. She nodded. He stood and held out a hand to help her up. He locked the door behind them, and led the way back down the hall. She stepped into the stairwell and waited while he closed the door behind them. He pushed past her, taking her hand and leading her silently back down the stairs and into the closet. He immediately dropped her hand once he opened the closet and they were back in the light.
They returned to Mr. Palmer, Alex still not saying anything. Calli felt he was probably feeling vulnerable. Just before Mr. Palmer left, Alex slipped from the room, still without a word. Not surprisingly, he didn’t join them for dinner.
* * * * *
Saturday morning, Alex watched from his private cove as Calli climbed into the cab that his father had called for her. She glanced backward once, as if searching. She looked up toward the cove. Alex knew she couldn’t see him. Her shoulders slumped and she climbed into the yellow car.
Alex was angry with himself for telling her what he had, for allowing her to see that side of him that he hid even from his father. He’d been reserved with her the rest of the week in spite of her attempts to tease him out of his mood.
He’d never admit it, but he dreaded the next two days without
Similar Books
