All These Things I've Done (Birthright #1)(90)

And then another ambulance came to take Jacks away.

Finally, a second police car came, and this one was just for me.

X I X. i enact a fair trade

I WAS QUESTIONED FOR FOUR HOURS at the police station, but I told them nothing about Leo. All they knew was that a low-level mobster had shot my boyfriend and that I had shot back in self-defence. The only charges they could pin on me were relatively minor: possession of a concealed weapon and possession of a weapon with an expired permit. Not to mention, I had saved Charles Delacroix’s son’s life – so what if it had been me who had put the young man in jeopardy to begin with? From the police’s point of view, I was a hero. Or, at least, an antihero.

And so I was sent home under house arrest while the powers that be tried to figure out what to do with me. They did not send me to Liberty, as they were wary of sending me back there after the public relations fiasco of my last stay.

What else can I tell you? Oh yes, Leo. I had just begun my period of house arrest when word came from Yuji Ono that my brother had made it to Japan and was safely among the monks of Koya. At least it hadn’t all been for nothing, I suppose. On the phone, Yuji asked me if I needed anything further. I told him I didn’t. He had helped me enough.

And you’ll want to know about Win, of course. Charles Delacroix barred me from Win’s hospital room. Mr Delacroix also made sure that neither calls nor things I tried to send reached his son. Win’s father was nothing if not thorough, and I suppose this was something to admire about the man.

I read in the news that the bullet had gone through Win’s hip socket and that his leg was being held together with a series of metal rods and pins. He would recover, but Scarlet, who had visited him, reported that he was in a lot of discomfort. She also told me that his father had him monitored by around-the-clock security guards. ‘In theory,’ Scarlet said one day when she was over at the apartment, ‘it’s to make sure no one tries to get at Win, but the reality is Charles Delacroix wants to make sure Win doesn’t try to contact you.’

As usual, I could understand Charles Delacroix’s point of view. In less than a year, I had landed two boyfriends in the hospital. How could I be considered anything but a plague? If I had a son I loved, I would keep me away from him, too.

‘But,’ Scarlet said, ‘guess what?’

‘What?’

‘I have a note. He didn’t have much time to write it.’

Scarlet handed it to me. It was scribbled on a clean piece of gauze.

‘Can I write one for you to give to him?’ I asked.

Scarlet considered this. ‘Hmm. It’ll be harder for me to bring one back from you. The guards don’t let you take anything into his room. And if they saw I had a note from you, they might not let me come back. Why don’t I say something to him for you?’

‘Tell him . . .’ What was there to say? I was beyond sorry. ‘Tell him thanks for the note.’

‘Thanks for the note!’ Scarlet repeated in an overly bright way. ‘Will do!’

Two weeks after the shooting, I was granted leave from my house arrest to face the school’s administrative board. Simon Green accompanied me. The ad board’s task was to decide whether or not I would be allowed to attend senior year at Holy Trinity.

I won’t bother you with the details, but they voted eleven to one to expel me from Holy Trinity. (The only dissenting vote had come from good old Dr Lau.) Despite my numerous other offences (fighting, insubordination, excessive absenteeism), it pretty much came down to the weapon that I had used to shoot Jacks. Apparently, they didn’t want someone who was packing on the Holy Trinity campus. I would be allowed to finish my junior year classwork at home, but after that, I needed to find myself another school. I added this to my list of things to do.

The school’s decision? I cannot honestly say I disagreed with it.

On the way back from Holy Trinity, I asked Simon Green if we could stop at the hospital.

‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ Simon Green asked me. ‘Charles Delacroix has made his feelings towards you perfectly clear.’

‘Please,’ I begged. (Daddy always said the only thing worth begging for was your life, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe sometimes your love is a little bit worth begging for, too.) ‘Please.’ Tears were running down my face and snot was coming from my nose. I was behaving like an infant. I was loathsome and wretched and Simon Green, who was soft-hearted and as green as his surname, took pity on me.

‘All right, Anya. We can try,’ Simon Green said.

We rode the elevator to the juvenile ward. How absurd that tall, grown-up Win was still considered a juvenile. By chance, it was lunch hour, so there were no guards posted outside Win’s room. We knocked on the door, which was orange with a cutout of a beach umbrella pasted to it. I suppose the cutout was meant to indicate that summer was nearly here even if it didn’t feel that way when you were stuck in a hospital bed.

‘Come in,’ a female voice called. I pushed the door open. The bed was empty. Win’s mother was seated in a chair by the window. When she saw me, I thought she was going to yell at me to get out, but she didn’t. ‘Win’s having an X-ray. Please come in, Anya,’ she said.

Simon Green and I did not have to be asked twice. I knew that this was a gift Win’s mother was giving me, so I did my best to make small talk. ‘How are your oranges?’ I asked.