Motion (Page 10)

His gaze moved over me, assessing and yet surprisingly free of judgment. These amber eyes of his were making me tremendously self-conscious as I sensed something new behind his inspection. Something like interest, but not quite. Whatever the something was, it also made me acutely cognizant that I was wearing just a towel and underwear.

I gathered a deep breath, about to walk around him to Lisa’s room, when he said quietly, “So did I.”

“What?”

“I dropped out of high school.”

I flinched, astonished. “You- you did?”

He nodded, biting his lower lip, a faint smile in his eyes. “That surprises you?”

“Why would you do that?” I asked this as myself, as Mona, because dropping out of school made no sense to me. To have access to knowledge and to reject it made no logical sense.

Abe’s left dimple appeared, his pretty eyes—yes, they were pretty, but alluring might have been a more fitting word—seemed to glow.

Instead of answering, he countered, “Why did you drop out?”

“My parents couldn’t find a high school that would take- take me. I was kicked out of ten schools by my junior year.” I thought everyone knew this story. It had been in all the papers.

He made a low whistling sound. “Ten?”

I nodded, remembering the phone call I’d had with Lisa after number ten. She’d seemed proud, like it had been an accomplishment. I didn’t understand her.

“So, technically, I didn’t drop out,” I said, repeating what she’d said to me at the time.

“Right.” He looked less than impressed, which echoed how I’d felt about Lisa’s statement.

Before I could catch the impulse, I rolled my eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips, forgetting for a moment that we weren’t commiserating over Lisa’s recklessness because, you know, I was Lisa.

Abe looked at me like I’d again surprised him.

Oh. Oh no. He thinks I’m being self-deprecating. Yikes.

“Yeah. Well. I’m the funniest person I know, and then the wolves came.” I forced a light laugh, knowing I’d messed up. Lisa was many things, but I’d never known her to be self-deprecating. If there was one thing my sister took too seriously in this world, it was herself.

“Wolves?” His gaze traveled over my face, a smile lingering even though his eyebrows had pulled together. The dichotomy of his expression had me wondering whether he was enjoying our conversation, or if perhaps he was confused about the fact that he was enjoying our conversation.

“Anyway.” I took a step to the side, and then another. I needed to extract myself. I needed the prunes to chew on before I could be trusted to speak. “I’m cold. I need clothes. Goodbye.”

With that, I crossed to Lisa’s room, stepped inside, and shut the door behind me. I counted the seven seconds until I heard footsteps on the stairway leading up. Shaking my head at how incompetent I was at lying, I moved to Lisa’s dresser.

As I searched for something to wear, I admitted to myself that I failed at pretending to be someone else. Everything that had just happened—except for me saying whatever and flicking my wrist at him—had been completely out of character for my sister.

Avoiding Abe was the only way to salvage this week and allow Lisa to slip back into the house without raising suspicion.

Avoidance. I would avoid him.

Complete avoidance.

Yep.

4

Vectors, Scalars, and Coordinate Systems

When someone asks where I’m from, I say Chicago. I’d spent less than one sixty-fourth of my life here and yet, of all my parents’ houses all over the world, the Chicago house was the one I considered home. Perhaps because my parents were both born on the outskirts of Chicago, or maybe because it was also the only house without permanent live-in caretakers. As a kid, I’d thought the other houses belonged to the caretakers and we were merely their guests.

Which is all to say, I knew where the best hide-and-seek places were in the house.

Upon waking, I checked my hair—as far as I could tell, it still looked fine—reapplied the makeup as faithfully as I could, and crept from Lisa’s room early in the morning. The questions I’d been asking myself since hopping on a plane thirty-six hours ago still whispering between my ears, Are you really doing this? Are you really going to impersonate Lisa for up to a week? Are you really okay with pretending to be her?

I had no answers. Furthermore, I was frustrated that the questions persisted. The decision had been made. Lisa was in trouble and probably scared out of her mind. As much as the situation gave me a sour stomach, I was more worried for her than for me.

And anyway, allowing myself to be swept up and along by momentum was normal for me. Momentum was good. It made sense. It existed for a reason. It helped people stay on the right path.

Second-guessing my decisions was not normal. It, the impersonation of my sister and the lies, was already happening. I was already doing this. I’d promised my sister. I’d promised. And I never snitched.

So, defeating the impulse to check my phone and call the lawyer, I hid.

My hiding spot was the mudroom off the back door. The light was excellent for reading, and it housed a cozy cushioned cubby built into the wall, a space that had likely been a small closet at one point. There was no chance of being happened upon as no one used the back door.

I read my book, Moby Dick, while ignoring the whispers of doubt until they faded. I also listened for Abe. Once he was up and about, I’d make an appearance in the kitchen just after he finished his breakfast/when he was on his way out. That way he would see me, but there’d be no loitering and or making of further chitchat.

Maybe I’d pretend to be on my way to the bathroom.

A while later—a long while later—I came up for breath and glanced at my surroundings. The earlier post-dawn diffused glow now felt like midmorning sunlight. I frowned, worried that Abe had grabbed breakfast at some point, I hadn’t heard him, and I’d neglected to check in. Chewing the inside of my bottom lip, I set my book to the side and tiptoed to the kitchen, searching for any sign of life and checking the clock mounted above the wood-fired pizza oven.

I experienced a shock. It was now past 1:00 PM. I then experienced a spike of alarm, hoping Ahab hadn’t gone looking for Lisa, given up, and called my parents.

“Doom, doom, doom!” I murmured, dashing toward the back stairs. I would have to find Ahab and convince him I’d been home all morning, and then I’d—

“Did you just say ‘doom doom doom,’ or ‘zoom, zoom, zoom’?”

I stopped short and was forced to take several steps backward. Ahab was walking down the stairs, his longish hair in messy disarray, his voice roughened with sleep, and his eyes squinted like the room was too bright.

“I . . .” Incredulous, I inspected his rumpled attire. He was still wearing the same T-shirt and jeans he’d been wearing yesterday. “Did—did you just wake up?” And he slept in his clothes?

Yawning, his gaze moving down and up my person, he nodded. “What time is it? I think I left my phone down here.”

My eyes bugged. Wasn’t he supposed to be watching Lisa? Wasn’t he supposed to take her phone and ensure she didn’t call Tyler and didn’t leave and didn’t do anything stupid? And he was just now waking up? I could have been out all morning. I could have met with and had sex with and dropped acid with Tyler ten times by now!

To be fair, I didn’t know how long it took to drop acid, but based on various data sources and movies I’d watched, I could extrapolate.

“You—did you—your—” I couldn’t figure out which question I wanted to ask first.

“Is there still pizza?” he asked, walking past me and making a straight line for the fridge.

Confounded, certain I was missing something critical, I stumbled after him. “I can’t believe you’re just waking up.”

I’d never slept until 1:00 PM. Never. Not after a long international flight, not on the weekend after pulling several all-nighters the week prior, not even when I’d been sick with the flu. Never ever, ever.

Sending me a quick, small, sleepy smile, Ahab opened the fridge. “Why? When did you wake up?”

Crossing my arms, I wished for my bag of prunes or something else to chew. I suspected this was one of those situations where telling the truth would make a negative impact to my Lisa-credibility. It was a safe bet to assume my sister didn’t often wake up at 6:30 AM.

Rather than outright lie, I decided vague was just as good. “A while ago. When did you go to sleep?”

“Around five.”

I started, blinking several times. “Five? AM?”

“Yep.” He pulled the pizza from the fridge and placed it on the island, flipping open the box.

“That’s insane, Ahab. What were you doing until five AM?”

He’d been lifting a slice of cold pizza—COLD PIZZA!—when I spoke, but his hand halted midway to his mouth and he glared at me.

“What did you just say?”

“I said, that’s insane.” Frowning at him and the slice of cold pizza in turn, I had to ask, “Do you want me to heat that up for you?”

He returned the pizza to the box, staring at me like I was a curiosity. “My name is Abram.”