A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)(8)

I’ve never told them about the Need. As far as Mercy knows, I have terrible menstrual cramps and severe asthma. The Need usually knocks the air out of me, so it wasn’t really hard to fake not being able to breathe. When I was a kid, I was too scared to ever tell Mercy about my episodes, afraid that if she found out she’d realize I wasn’t normal, and then she’d give me back.

And now it’s been so long that I’m not sure how to bring it up. I don’t know, maybe I’m still scared of losing my only home.

A door closes and Alex comes from the hall, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth as he runs his hand through his still-wet, shoulder-length black hair. When he sees me, he waves.

“Hey, Charlotte,” he mumbles through clenched teeth. “Nice coat.”

“Thanks. Going out?”

Alex takes the toothbrush out of his mouth. “Nope. Staying in. You?”

“All night.”

We smile at each other and I slip off my jacket, laying it over the back of the tweed sofa. Like me, Alex sneaks out to see his boyfriend during the week. It’s just so much easier than asking for permission, which we’d never get.

Mercy mumbles something in Spanish to Alex as she walks past him into the kitchen, obviously still mad about his late-night bus ride. He rolls his eyes at me while Mercy takes a Tupperware filled with leftovers from the fridge.

The house is quiet, and I wonder why loud rap music isn’t coming from the back bedroom as usual. “Hey,” I ask Alex. “Where’s Georgia?”

“Hell if I care,” he says, shrugging and sitting on the stool at the counter.

Mercy walks by and lightly smacks him in the back of the head. “Be nice to your sister.”

I laugh because Georgia and Alex fight like actual brother and sister, even though Georgia has only been here about six months. She’s totally secretive and often bitchy, but then again, most fosters who come through start off like that. Alex and I were the only ones who became permanent. Neither of us ever had anywhere else to go.

“She’s not my sister, Ma,” Alex replies. “Not unless you’re going to adopt her, too.”

“Georgia has a family down south,” Mercy says, putting the Tupperware in her insulated lunch bag. “And if it weren’t a temporary situation, maybe I would.” She raises her chin defiantly and I can see in her eyes that she feels guilty. Sometimes I think that Mercy would adopt the whole world if she could.

“Charlotte,” Alex says. “Back me up here. Georgia sucks, right?”

I laugh. “I’m not saying a word.”

“Good girl,” Mercy calls out as she crosses the room to pause in front of me, purse and lunch bag in her hands. “I have to go,” she says, sounding disappointed. “I’m sorry, I know I said I’d try to be around more.”

“It’s okay.” And it is, because if Mercy were around more I’d have fewer chances to sneak out and see Harlin. “Maybe this weekend?”

“We’re going to church on Sunday,” she says like it’s a warning. “Sister Catherine has been all over me about missing Mass.” As a family we consider ourselves part-time Catholics. We reserve church for holidays, baptisms, and funerals. It’s not that we aren’t religious; we just prefer to say our prayers before bed instead of in a cathedral full of people. But every so often one of the nuns at St. Vincent’s reminds Mercy that a scholarship is a “gift from God” and that we should give back by attending Mass. Basically they guilt us into going.

“Charlotte,” Mercy says, “are you feeling okay? You look sort of pale.” She reaches out to touch my forehead.

I nod, but now that she mentions it, anxiety begins to turn in my stomach. I’m resisting the Need by waiting, but I have to, even if it makes me a little sick. There’s not a lot of time and I still want to see Harlin.

“I’m just tired,” I say.

Mercy purses her red lips, lines of worry creasing her forehead. “You call me if you feel sick tonight. Monroe told me your asthma attacks have been kicking up.” Mercy and Monroe have been friends for years, ever since she brought me to his clinic when I was seven with a broken arm. And luckily Monroe buys my asthma story, at least for now. If he didn’t keep Mercy updated on it, I’m not sure my acting skills would be enough for Mercy to keep believing the story. How many asthma attacks can one person have?

“I’ll be fine,” I say.

“Good. Now go rest.” She leans forward to kiss the top of my head. “I’ll see you after school. Tomorrow we’re having a family dinner. Tell Georgia if you see her.”

“Su-ucks,” Alex sings from the kitchen, but we both ignore him.

“I’ll tell her,” I say to Mercy. “Night.” I turn to walk toward my small bedroom in the back of the apartment, but stop in the hallway to wait. The minute I hear the click of the front door shutting, I smile and go to change out of my uniform.

“Looking snazzy, Miss Cassidy,” Harlin says when he opens his apartment door. His vintage T-shirt and loose jeans hang on him just right, and his hair is messy in that I-don’t-care sort of way. As he smiles, his dimples deepen and I get butterflies all over, like I always do when he’s watching me like that. Like he wants me.

“Thank you,” I say, holding his stare, tingles racing up and down my body.