I had to lean forward to see what he held. Something small and round rested in his palm. Instinctively, I knew it was the coin. “Oh. It must have fallen out of my pocket.”
He peered up through his lashes. “I can’t make out what’s on it.”
“Nothing’s really on it,” I said, wishing I could take it out of his palm. “Can I have it back?” I held out my hand.
“Sure, but why do you have a coin in your pocket? I can tell it’s not a normal one.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kind of like a good luck charm.”
Hayden dropped it back in my hand. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Then you don’t want to lose it.”
“No.” I put it back in my pocket and hoped it stayed there.
After that, we lapsed into silence for a while. Then I heard the soft, even breaths signaling that Hayden had fallen sleep. I envied him. My mind didn’t want to shut down. At some point, I rolled onto my side and rose up on my elbow. I don’t know what provoked me, but I studied him. I noticed things I hadn’t before, like how thick his lashes were and how his brows seemed to have a natural arch in the middle. My fingers itched to draw the curve of his cheek, the line of his jaw. My gaze drifted down, over his parted lips, then further. His hands rested over his flat stomach. I found it strange that those long, elegant fingers held the power to hurt me.
Inspecting my own hands, I wandered if he ever looked at mine and thought the same thing. Though, my fingers weren’t nearly as elegant as his. They always seemed stained with pencil marks, sometimes charcoal.
And my fingers killed—all because of Olivia’s gift, all because someone had wanted her gift.
Slowly, I curled onto my side and watched the soft rise and fall of Hayden’s chest until my eyes drifted shut. I fell into a deep sleep, the kind dreams couldn’t even penetrate.
* * *
Mom looked different to me now—the thick locks of red hair didn’t seem so dull, her face not so pale. Even the way she hummed didn’t bother me like it used to.
I placed a mug of hot tea on the stand next to where she sat and backed off a step or two.
“Mom, I understand.”
She continued to rock slowly.
“I know we fought a lot before the accident, but I always loved you. Did you know that? I probably didn’t act like I did. I was just so stupid, and I wish you could really hear me now. I’m sorry for how I acted. I’m sorry for picking seafood that night, and… and I’m sorry for hating you this whole time.”
I stopped and closed my eyes. The need to wait for a response evaporated in the silence between us. During the walk back to the house this morning, Hayden had explained that mind-wiping had to be done with a certain amount of finesse. “Like a fine art,” he’d said. Done wrong, the consequences were terrible and the damage was almost always permanent.
Anger and a sense of helplessness rose. Mom hadn’t deserved this. My nails dug into my palms.
“I know what happened to you.” I said. “I know there’s nothing we can do to change it, but I’m gonna make it right somehow. When I find out who did this, I’m gonna make them pay for this. I’ll—”
Floorboards in the hallway creaked once, then twice. I whirled to the door, clamping my mouth shut. Crossing the distance, I peered out into the empty hallway. Not knowing if someone had overheard what I’d said, I pushed back from the door and turned toward Mom. My heart stopped.
She looked straight at me, her eyes unnaturally wide, the green hue surprisingly bright.
“Mom?”
Then I realized she wasn’t looking at me, but behind me—toward the door, like she’d also heard someone in the hallway.
Chapter 16
Self-reflection was like preparing for the SAT. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew I had to. And when I did, it was going to suck butt—majorly. It was also going to take awhile—mine took two weeks and a couple of days.
I guess I had Holden Caulfield to thank for it.
Mr. Theo sat on the edge of his desk, Catcher in the Rye in his hands. He went on and on about how Holden had alienated himself as a form of self-protection, which led to his loneliness. And then something about loneliness being a form of security.
Whatever. At least Holden had had a choice in becoming an outcast.
But I had an epiphany while Mr. Theo’s smooth voice read a line from the book. “‘The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody’d move…. Nobody’d be different. The only thing that would be different would be you.’”
Mr. Theo cracked the book shut and peered at the class; his bright gaze seemed to zero in on me. “What does that mean to you?”
“The kid needed to get laid,” Billy answered.
I ignored the laughter and Mr. Theo’s response. I was way too focused on the fact I didn’t want to be one of those statues in the museums—never moving, never changing—to forever be the girl who couldn’t even touch a plant. I wanted to change—needed to change, but after two weeks of massacring every plant I’d touched, things weren’t working.
Every evening, Hayden and I snuck off to the cabin and started with the plants. Afterwards, we sat on the couch and talked about anything. Sometimes we lay on the bed. On those nights, we usually fell asleep, and then snuck back into the house at the crack of dawn, praying we wouldn’t get caught.
But maybe I wasn’t trying hard enough. Maybe I was going along with the training so I could spend time with Hayden, because I liked falling asleep next to him. I liked being that close to someone.