True Places(31)

“Iris?” Rappoport leaned forward, impatient. “How do you feel about living with a family?”

If she didn’t answer Rappoport, the woman would leave. She was, after all, extremely busy.

Iris exchanged a pencil the color of bluets for a deep-red one that reminded her of an orchard oriole. In a couple of months, the orioles would fly north and return to her woods. If she was there, she might spot one sneaking between branches, hop by hop, giving itself away by a tremor in the leaves and a flash of color more black than red.

She fought back tears, not wanting to cry in front of Rappoport, who would only ask more questions, want Iris to explain, all the while glancing at her watch. How could Rappoport understand? How could anyone? Iris focused on her coloring, making it neat, choosing colors she knew from her world, colors that spoke to her, colors that evoked sights and sounds and textures and emotion. The colors harmonized within her, melting together like the lazy babble of a stream, the flutter of the wind in the trees, and the excited warble of a bunting.

Iris soothed herself with these thoughts, lost in color and sound and joyful meaning. When she finally looked up, the seat under the window was empty.





CHAPTER 14

All Brynn wanted to do was grab something to eat and binge-watch Scrubs. But no, her parents practically arrested her when she came in the door after swim practice.

“Family meeting at five, remember?” Her mom used the voice that sounded exactly like the reminder calls from the orthodontist’s office. It pissed Brynn off even more than usual because yesterday her mom had missed the swim awards ceremony. Totally blown it off. Most Improved didn’t rate, apparently.

Her father was holding a glass of wine and a huge plate of cheese and crackers, plus olives and artichoke dip. Bribery, mom-style.

Brynn snagged two crinkly black olives. “Just text me the minutes when it’s over, okay, Daddy?”

He smiled at her. “Sorry, pumpkin. Attendance is mandatory.”

She swung her backpack off her shoulder and let it drop with a thud.

Her mother pretended not to notice. “I did mention it this morning.”

Brynn cut past her into the living room. “Let’s get this over with. I’m wiped out.”

Reid was lounging on the good couch, the comfortable one, taking up all of it with his giraffe legs. He didn’t look up from his book but moved his legs to give her space.

“Thanks.” Family meetings didn’t happen often, but it was usually kids versus parents, despite all the talk of “the family unit” and “pulling together” or some other such crap. If she couldn’t get her way by twisting her father’s will, Reid was likely to be her only ally.

Brynn pulled out her phone from the pocket of her sweatshirt and texted her friend Lisa.

BRYNN: Family meeting. Call SWAT team if I go dark.

LISA: Your mom made snacks, right?

BRYNN: Yup. She’s so extra.

LISA (via Snapchat; Lisa wearing a short skirt, patterned tights, combat boots, and a tiny cornflower-blue tank, her long dark hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head): For tonight?

Brynn arranged a look of exaggerated lascivious delight on her face, took a photo, and sent it to Lisa on Snapchat.

“Brynn, can you put away your phone, please?” Had her mother always had that voice? If so, that would account for why Brynn was constantly stressed. Listening to that for fifteen years would be like being stuck in a room with chalkboard walls and fifty-seven psychotic cats.

BRYNN (via text): No one gets out alive. (Munch’s The Scream emoji)

Her father put the cheese plate on the coffee table. Brynn put a pile of cheese and olives on a napkin, crossed her legs underneath her, and settled in.

Reid turned his book upside down on the arm of the couch. Their father flinched. He was OCD—not officially, but close enough—which was okay with Brynn, since she appreciated things done the right way, too. The fact that their father failed to call Reid on the book abuse violation meant the topic of Sharing Time had to be serious. As if she didn’t have enough to deal with.

Her phone vibrated. She inched it out to peek at the screen. Ophelia. Blindly and with one hand, she texted, Later, bb, and slid the phone back into her pocket.

Her mother clapped her hands together, rested them on her knees, and leaned forward. Like a kindergarten teacher. “We have important news. Both of you know about the girl who was living alone in the woods.”

“We know all about Iris, Mom,” Reid said.

“Well.” She glanced at their father before spitting it out, and in that one look Brynn understood he was not totally on board with whatever this was. That meant it was going to suck worse than she thought.

Her mother went on. “The police haven’t been able to find any of her relatives, and now that she’s ready to leave the hospital, she needs a family to live with.”

Brynn shook her head. “No, no, no, no, no, no—”

“Hear your mother out.” Her dad gave her a look.

“She has unusual needs, so finding the right family isn’t straightforward. Plus, Iris knows me already.” Her mother hesitated. “She doesn’t really trust anyone. She’s been taught not to. But she seems to trust me.”

Reid said, “Don’t you have enough to do, Mom? You haven’t exactly got a lot of free time.”