In Her Skin(38)

“And there are other things.” You roll back over and run your finger behind my ear, and I freeze, because there are three earring holes in that lobe, faint marks, barely noticeable, a weak moment in Immokalee when I was bored with a pin and ice, and I’d be willing to bet Vivi did not have thrice-pierced ears.

“Other things like…?”

“It’s like we got to exhale when you came back.”

I pretend your touch tickles and squirm, burying my ear and its telltale holes in my shoulder. “Because of years of worry.” My voice cracks.

“Something like that.”

You stay in my room through supper, faking cramps, and I go along with it though I’m starving and really needed one last good meal. Mr. and Mrs. Lovecraft leave for “date night” and we watch Friends reruns on Netflix (reruns I’ve never seen, because: shed!) on your phone until I can’t keep my eyes open. Once I am sure you’re asleep, curled up like a ball with your sharp bum sticking out, I slide out of the bed, pull the bag out from under it, and head for the window.

I reach for the window sash, and there is Wolf.

He signals for me to raise it. I shake my head hysterically, mute, dropping the bag to the floor and kicking a blanket over it.

“The Last One,” he mouths. My mouth runs dry and I tell myself Wolf can be silent: silent is what he does best. I check your sleeping body, watch the rise and fall of your breath for three counts, before sliding the window open. I sign for Wolf to follow me out of the room, across the hall into yours, and he does this, at my heels, and I smell cold night air trapped in his clothes. I press the door to your bedroom shut with a soft click.

Wolf stalks the room. “So this is your new sister’s room?”

I whisper hoarsely, “What do you want?”

“If this is her room, then why was she sleeping in your bed?” he says.

“‘The Last One.’ You said, ‘The Last One.’ What do you know?” I say.

He looks at me, long and pained.

“Wolf!” I cry.

“I don’t even know why I’m here.” He tries to push past, but I step in front of him. Jo is leaving tonight, and Jo needs to know what she’s up against out there.

“You’re here because you know the Last One will betray me,” I say. “Now where is he?”

Wolf draws his hand over his face. “Tell me why I should even tell you.”

“So I can be ready.”

“You can be ready at Tent City.”

I take his face in my hands. “I’m safer here.”

“You don’t need this family. I could keep you safe.”

My eyes fall to the photos of Vivi on the vanity. The changes Vivi has brought. A thriving charity. Social acceptance. Goodwill. Mr. and Mrs. Lovecraft might know I’m not Vivienne Weir, but they don’t care.

“Vivienne Weir is the only one who can keep me safe.”

“A dead girl?” he says.

“A missing girl,” I say, dropping his face and turning over his arms to check for new burns, and there they are, the puckers pink and fresh.

“I won’t put you in danger,” he murmurs, pulling his arms down and wrapping them around my waist. He presses against me, and what kind of mind-erasing place is this house that I’ve forgotten how perfectly Wolf and I fit together?

I finally understand his lie. “You’re not here because the Last One has come. You wanted to be together one more time.”

He covers my mouth with his before I can speak again, and I ache, an ache I hadn’t known was there but that had been building for days, and all night, on the bed with you, and I drop my head back to let him kiss my throat, thinking about your mouth. The door creaks open. I spin around and stagger away from Wolf. You stand in the doorway, roused from sleep, your hair mashed up on one side. Your eyes are glazed, and you shut the door behind you quietly, and when you turn, your eyes have sharpened.

Words rush to my tongue. Your unkind smile stops me cold.

“Tell me, Vivi. How did you manage to make a friend when you never leave the house?” you say.

“He’s not a friend.”

You raise a finger. “Aha! So, he’s a burglar. Bum who wandered off the street? Home invader?”

“I’m leaving,” Wolf says, heading for the door.

You step in front of him. “Oh no, friend. You’ll leave when I say it’s time. Otherwise, I’ll have to call Slade. And as Vivi knows, Slade needs things to do around here. After all, his only job is to protect his employers from their own daughter. When they’re asleep in their beds, and can’t protect themselves. Imagine what it’s like to be afraid of your own child?”

You take Wolf’s hand and my hand playfully and drag us to your bed, tossing us to the mattress like rag dolls while you lord over. “But it appears I’m not the one they have to worry about!”

“Temple…,” I start.

“Time for introductions!” you sing.

Wolf stands and you push him back down. He would never push a girl. Somehow you know this and use it.

“Sooo,” you say, sarcastic-chipper. “How do we know each other?”

Wolf starts to speak, and I run over his words. “We met while I was missing. He—he was kept. In the shed.”