In Her Skin(54)

I have purchased equipment that should make his job easier.

When I finally reach the South Pacific, I make the mistake of looking back. Wolf feels me, snaps his head, but I am off, through the lobby, shoving tourists—always tourists!—through this fairy-tale place, with high arches and lights, but I am less distracted by such spaces than I used to be. Vivi has seen more refined things from the inside than Jo has seen from the outside, and the effect is dulling. Also, I need to escape before Wolf follows me. I cannot explain that note, cannot risk Wolf arguing me out of it. I need him reading that note alone in our tent (if he is still alone in our tent) and remembering his promise to do anything for me.

I am running now across Massachusetts Avenue against traffic and I pass the Symphony T stop because there is no waiting for a train, not with Wolf on my trail, though I got a head start because he had to manhandle those tourists between us on the glass bridge, and for sure the Christian Scientists who built the place aren’t letting him into the Mapparium for free anymore. Wolf forces me to run up Mass Avenue, around strollers and students, and it’s amazing no cops have stopped us yet, and it helps that Wolf keeps slowing to cough, and I’m faster, one quick turn onto Hemingway and across Boylston, here are the Berklee students moving in sofas and luggage and Wolf won’t dare follow me up Newbury, it’s too busy, but he does, coughing, and I am panting, and I duck onto Dartmouth and up, up, up the stairs and I don’t know if he’s still back there but I slam the door anyway and slide down it until I’m sitting on the cold marble.

The fire escape.

I run up the staircase, using the banister to hurl myself up even faster, because my legs are junk, and I rush into my room, fumble with the lock, and slam the cracked window down, locking it shut. There is more danger now, Wolf cannot show up here, and—

“Are you being chased?” you say, laughing, standing in my doorway, your hip jutting out. You’re wearing your white fencing knickers and jacket with the strap that goes between your legs. “Maybe I should call Gerry. Gerry!”

I storm out of my room past you because I know you will follow me and I don’t need you there when Wolf comes to the window, which he will, and it will be locked. Sweat pours off me. I stick my head in the fridge so I don’t have to look at you.

“You didn’t tell us where you were going,” you say.

“Your parents have been meeting in the office with Gene all morning. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re full of it. You locked your bedroom door and went down the fire escape. I’m going to tell them to take it down.”

“Then how will you sneak out at night to Mont Vert?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Yeah, well, you can’t start disappearing now that we’re back. It won’t be tolerated.”

I take out a bottle of orange juice and swig it from the mouth. You wrinkle your nose. When I want space, I do Jo-like things to offend you. We are from different worlds, you and me, but I don’t care if you know anymore, and in that way you are losing your power over me.

Puppy-Wolf pads into the kitchen. I scoop her up and bury my face in her warm back.

“You went to see your boyfriend, didn’t you?” you say sharply.

I give you my blankest look.

“He doesn’t fit into your life now. You know that better than anyone.”

“I’m going to lie down,” I say, heading for the parlor, which is the last room I spend any time in; that’s how badly I want to get away from you. Yet you follow me anyway, and there is the sound of the pocket door to the office sliding open. Lawyer Gene is dragging a hand down his cheek as he emerges. He startles when he sees me. Behind him come Mrs. Lovecraft, Mr. Lovecraft, and Harvey Silver. They mumble hellos and head for their suit jackets on the coatrack by the front door. Mrs. Lovecraft darts into the kitchen for her pocketbook as the men leave.

“Clarissa, I’m leaving my phone, do you have yours?” Mr. Lovecraft yells back.

“Yes!” Mrs. Lovecraft calls. She turns to me. “We need to run an errand. You girls must have lots to do—unpacking, online school shopping?” She looks at me pointedly. “Gerry is here if you need anything.”

“All four of you? Together?” you say, as if the weird formality of that needs to be pointed out. This makes you nervous too—something is up—but you care less than I do, and I bet I will find out first.

Mrs. Lovecraft frowns. “I know someone who has a fat math packet that was supposed to be completed by the end of the summer. How far along are you?”

You duck back into the kitchen. I set Wolf on the floor and reach around to hug Mrs. Lovecraft, which I’ve taken to doing lately because the way she stiffens in my arms reminds me not to be fooled by her. Also, it’s easier to slip my hand into the bag on her shoulder and steal her phone.

She can’t get away from me fast enough.

I shut down her phone and place it inside the vase on the table in the middle of the foyer. I lift Wolf to my face, light as bones and fur, and breath her sweet doggy smell in, listening for where Gerry is in this godforsaken house. Something about leaving the puppy makes me uncomfortable, but I don’t have much time if I want to follow the Lovecrafts, Lawyer Gene, and Harvey Silver to where I think they’re going. I use the front door in case the real Wolf is floating around and wait for Lawyer Gene’s car to pull away from the curb with the Lovecrafts following behind, a caravan of mysterious intentions. I use my wire cutter to snap the lock on one of the bikes always tied to the meter in front of the Lovecrafts’ brownstone and ride as fast as I can toward the police station.