The Evolution of Mara Dyer

26

GOOD MORNING,” MY FATHER SAID WHEN I FINALLY appeared in the kitchen.

“Morning.” I grabbed two granola bars and a bottle of water from the pantry, gulping half of it down while Dad finished his coffee. We headed for the car together.

He rolled down the windows once we were inside. It was unusually gorgeous out—blue and cloudless and not hot yet at all, but the inside of my skin burned, anyway.

“How’re you feeling, kid?”

I shot him a glance. “Why?”

“You look a little tired.”

“Thanks . . .”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Hey, you know what movie I rented?”

“Um . . . no?”

He paused meaningfully. “Free Willy,” he said with a giant smile.

“Okay . . .”

“You loved that movie—we used to watch it all the time, remember?”

Like when I was six.

“And Joseph is up in arms about the plight of orcas now, so I thought we could watch it together, as a family,” he said. Then added, “I bet Noah would like it.”

I couldn’t help but smile. He was clearly making an effort. “Okay, Dad.”

“It’s uplifting.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Transformational—”

“Okay, Dad.”

He grinned and turned on the classic rock station and the two of us sat in silence. But being back in his car again, I found myself reflexively glancing back in the side mirror. I was looking for the truck, I realized.

I was looking for Jude.

I spent the whole drive to Horizons worrying I would see him behind us, but I didn’t. Dad dropped me off and I was warmly welcomed by Brooke, who introduced me to the art therapist I’d be working with a few days a week. She had me draw a house, a tree, and my family—some kind of test, definitely—and once I did so to her satisfaction, it was time for Group. Half of the students had to share their fears.

I was very glad to be in the other half.

Phoebe kept her distance from me that day, and Jamie made me laugh the way he always did. The hours passed unremarkably but I found myself sneaking glances outside at every opportunity, waiting for the white truck to appear in the parking lot.

It never did.

When my father and I pulled up to the house that afternoon, Mom’s car was already in the driveway. More importantly, so was Noah’s.

I felt a burst of relief. I needed to tell him about the doll in my room this morning, about Jude in my room last night while we slept. I nearly dove out of the car while it was still moving.

“Tell your mom I’m off to work on her list,” Dad said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be back soon.”

I nodded and shut the door. He didn’t drive away until I was inside the house.

Machine gun fire erupted from our family room, and I entered it to find Noah and Joseph slouched on the floor with controllers in their hands, their eyes glued to the TV.

Our conversation would have to wait.

“How was fishing?” I asked, in a casual voice that did not suit my mood. I walked through the archway into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I was hungry, but nothing looked good.

“We did not, in fact, go fishing,” Noah answered, still squinting at the screen.

“What? Why?”

Joseph rocked forward, gripping his controller fiercely. He didn’t speak.

“Joseph didn’t want to kill any fish, though he seems to have no problem killing—you bastard.”

Something exploded loudly and my brother dropped the controller, raising both hands in the air. “The champion is undefeated.” He flashed an obnoxious smirk at Noah.

“Good for you,” I said.

Noah shot me a look. “Where’s the loyalty?”

“I meant about the fish, but for the game, too.” I high-fived my brother and then I flashed an obnoxious smirk of my own. “Blood over boys.”

“You’re both evil.”

“I’m going to be a vegetarian,” Joseph told me.

“Mom will think I put you up to it.” I hadn’t eaten meat since the Santeria birthday show; every time I looked at it, I tasted blood in my mouth.

I dropped onto the couch. “So what did you guys do if you didn’t fish?”

“We went out on the boat and watched for dolphins,” Joseph said.

“Jealous. Did you see any?”

Noah nodded. “A small pod. We had to go out pretty far.”

“The boat was so cool,” Joseph said. “You can come with us next time.”

I grinned. “That’s very generous of you.”

“Well,” Noah said, standing up and stretching. His fingers touched the ceiling. “I don’t know about you, but after letting your brother win, I’m quite famished.”

Joseph slit his eyes at Noah. “Liar.”

“Prove it,” Noah shot back.

“I can prove it.”

“All right,” I said, “this rivalry is getting a little intense. Yes, Noah, I’m hungry.”

“Then if you’ll pardon me, nemesis,” he said to Joseph. “We will rematch another day.”

“You’ll still lose.”

The corner of Noah’s mouth lifted as he walked to the kitchen. I joined him and watched him rummage in the refrigerator.

“Fancy a . . . cucumber?” he said, holding one up.

“You’re not very good at this.”

“Right, then. Takeout it is.”

I looked behind us, toward the hallway. “Where’s my mother?”

Noah shook his head. “One of her friends picked her up for coffee, I think?”

“Daniel?”

“Out with Sophie. I’m responsible for everyone’s welfare until she returns.”

“God help us,” I said with a grin, but I was glad. I lowered my voice. “So last night—”

“Pizza!” Joseph called out.

“Must we?” Noah yelled back. He turned to face me. “What do you want?”

“Not pizza,” I agreed. “I feel kind of gross.”

“Gross. Indeed. Can you think of any food item in particular that would make you feel less gross?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know—soup?”

“Pea soup, perhaps?”

“I hate you.”

“But you make it so easy. Chinese?”

I shook my head and glanced out the window. I didn’t really care. I just wanted to talk.

“Never mind, you’re making this quite difficult. Joseph!” Noah called out.

“What!”

“Where are Daniel and Sophie?”

“Avigdor’s!” my brother shouted.

Noah looked at me with raised eyebrows.

“Fine with me,” I said.

“What kind of food is it?” Noah asked.

“Israeli!”

“Do they have soup?”

“Sushi too!” Joseph yelled.

“Enough with the yelling!” I shouted, then sank into a kitchen chair. I put my head in my hands while Noah ordered and texted Daniel to bring the food home with him. Eventually, Joseph abandoned the video game and went to his room.

Leaving us alone. I opened my mouth to speak but Noah interrupted me before I could.

“What did you do at your place today?”

“We shared our fears. Listen, last night—”

“That sounds appropriately hellish.”

“I didn’t have to go, they split the group in half. It’s my turn tomorrow—”

“Daniel’s anxious to see it,” Noah said, interrupting me again. “He said he’s going to a family therapy thing in a few days? Should be delightful.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, no. Noah—are you staying tonight?”

“Actually, I’ve arranged for us to meet with your new guardian. Why?”

“I was going to suggest you sleep in my room, this time.”

Noah gave me a sly look. “Not that I’m necessarily opposed, but why?”

The words Jude was in my room congealed on my tongue. When I finally spoke them, my voice sounded different. Terrified. I hated it.

I hated that I was afraid of him. And I hated the way Noah tensed when he saw it.

So I swallowed hard. Then lightened my voice. “He left me a little present in my underwear drawer,” I said casually, working hard to fake it.

Noah’s eyes never left mine, but his frame relaxed just slightly. “Dare I ask?”

“The doll,” I explained. “He must have seen me throw it out.”

“Mara—”

I shook my head. “He was probably watching creepily from some bushes or something.”

“Mara,” Noah said louder.

“The neighbor’s hedge is really tall,” I went on. “What is wrong with him?”

“Mara.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t Jude,” Noah said quietly.

“What wasn’t Jude?”

“The doll in your bedroom. He didn’t put it there.”

I blinked, not getting it. “Then who did?”

It felt like forever before Noah finally spoke.

“You.”