“Wait,” I said, and her hand fell to her side. “Why don’t you just tell Jamie now? It’s been years.”

“He’s got other crap to deal with, and he’s taking this whole Horizons thing pretty hard. Or rather, he’s taking the fact that our parents don’t believe a word he says pretty hard.”

I knew what that was like.

“Plus, he’s adopted, and I think it might bother him.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I think he’d want to know the truth.”

“There is no truth,” Stephanie said mysteriously. “Only perspectives. Philosophy 101,” she said with a wink.

But despite her light tone, I could see that she was biting the insides of her cheek.

“I don’t want him to know, okay?” she said after a pause. She looked me in the eye. “So don’t tell him.” And then Stephanie walked out the door.

I stared after her. Jamie thought he was being loyal by hating Noah, who had actually only helped. And Stephanie wasn’t upset about her choice; she was just afraid of what her brother would think of her for making it.

Was I so different?

I used to think there was nothing I could do to change the way my family saw me. There was nothing I couldn’t say.

But now I knew that wasn’t true. I’ll walk forever with stories inside me that the people I love the most can never hear.

35

I SURVIVED MY FIRST WEEK AT HORIZONS WITHOUT killing anyone or getting killed myself, and by the time Friday afternoon arrived, I was relatively thrilled. Noah called and asked if I wanted him to spend the weekend, which, obviously, I answered in the affirmative despite the fact that he still sounded a bit off. So he convinced Ruth to go out of town and had her call my mother to ask if she would host him. Mom said yes without hesitation—I was surprised, but gift horses and mouths. You know.

Half the family was in and half was out when Daniel and I got home from our sibling session at Horizons, and since nothing much was planned and I had nothing to do, I picked up New Theories in Genetics, which was conveniently sitting on my desk, and took it to the family room to read.

“Mara?”

Daniel’s voice. Daniel’s hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to find that my cheek was smushed against the sixth page.

I fell asleep. Fantastic.

I wiped my mouth in case I’d been drooling. “What time is it?”

“Not even five. Interesting choice of pillow. Title?”

I handed Daniel the book. He squinted at it. Then at me.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just seems like an unusual selection.”

“For me, you mean.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in genetics, that’s all.”

I sat up and folded my legs beneath me. “What happened to the ‘I wish Mara knew she was just as smart as me’ business?”

“Nothing. Still true. But what sparked the sudden interest?”

“Noah said something about genetic memory and it made me curious. He said he read about it in there.” I tipped my head toward the book. “But the only things I picked up in the introduction were references to Euhemerism and Jungian archetypes—”

“Euhemerus, wow. Way to trigger an eighth-grade honors English flashback.”

“Seriously—”

“You had O’Hara too, right? Did she make you guys do that project where you had to choose a myth and invent a ‘historical’ interpretation?”

“Yeah—”

“I think I ended up doing something about Aphrodite and heteronormativity—I don’t really remember much except that it was brilliant, even for me,” he said with a smile. “Why are you reading this again?”

“To achieve enlightenment about genetic memory. I have only six hundred plus pages to go.”

Daniel made a face, and scratched his nose.

“What?”

“Not to, like, discourage you or anything, but genetic memory is science fiction, not science fact.”

I shot him a weary look.

“Sorry, but it is. It can’t be peer reviewed or tested—”

“That doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

“It means it’s unprovable.”

I thought of everything I had been through and all the things I was still going through, none of which I could prove. “Just because you can’t prove something doesn’t mean it isn’t real.” I reached for the book.

Daniel dodged out of arm’s length and flipped it open to the first page. “Maybe I’ll give it a read anyway.”

I reached for it again, flexing my fingers. “You can borrow it after me.”

“But you’re not reading it. You’re sleeping on it. I’ll put it in my room—you can get it whenever you want. Oh, and ask Mom about Jung, she’ll like that.”

“Daniel—”

“THERE IS AN ALLIGATOR IN MAX’S POOL!” Joseph shouted from the foyer. He came running into the living room, his face lit with excitement.

“How big?” Daniel asked, and shifted the giant book behind his back.

“Big,” Joseph said, eyes wide. “Really big.”

My turn. “Did you see it?”

Joseph shook his head. “He e-mailed. They’re calling that guy to come over and get it out.”

“What guy?” Daniel asked.

“Wait, that guy from Animal Planet?” I asked.

Joseph nodded furiously. “He invited me over to watch. His mom is freaking out because they have an outdoor cat and they haven’t found her yet.”

Ice slid through my veins as I remembered—

The still body of a gray cat lay inches from where I’d been standing, its flesh torn open, its fur streaked with red.

My mother appeared in the kitchen. “Max’s cat is missing too?”

Daniel arched an eyebrow. “Too?”

I had to stay calm. Had to keep up the show.

“The Delaneys just asked me if any of us have seen their cat.” Their house bordered ours in the back. “She’s been missing since Sunday.”

Since I came home.

Joseph’s eyebrows lowered. “That’s when Jenny’s dog ran away.”

Who’s Jenny? I mouthed to Daniel.

“Angelo,” Daniel said. “Across the street and to the left.”

Joseph looked back at Mom. “Mom, will you take me to Max’s?”

“I’m kind of tired, honey.”

Joseph looked at Daniel and then at me. We simultaneously said, “Not it.”

Joseph clasped his hands together in mock prayer. “PLEASE take me! I will never ever ask for anything ever again, I swear.”

“Mara has to stay and help me with dinner,” my mom said.

My turn to make a face, even though I was spectacularly relieved. “I do?”

“Daniel, take him please?” she asked. Daniel was already reaching for her keys.

“Thanks.”

Joseph fist-pumped, but turned to me before he left. “You’re coming to the carnival tonight, right?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What carnival?”

“There’s a fair out in Davie,” Mom said. “I thought it would be fun if we all went.”

“Be back soon,” Daniel said as he left the kitchen and left New Theories on the counter. Then popped his head back in for one final you owe me look.

I did owe him. Remembering the cat unsettled me, even though I knew John was outside, watching our house. Jude hadn’t appeared since John had been here and the missing animals could be a coincidence, but they made me nervous and—

And my mother was looking at me.

I smiled at her. Widely. “What can I do?” I asked, all enthusiasm and cheer.

“Would you mind setting the table?”

“Sure!” I began unloading the dishwasher while my mother started rummaging in the pantry.

“How’s everything going at Horizons?” she asked.

So this is why I was granted a reprieve. “It’s great!”

“What kinds of things are you doing there?”

Aside from making new enemies? “Um, in drama therapy yesterday we chose monologues from old books and then performed them.”

“Did you like it?”

I nodded seriously. “I did.”

“Really?”

“It’s fun pretending to be someone else.”

“What book did you pick?”

“Um, Jekyll and Hyde.”

“What part did you play?”

Hyde. “Jekyll.”

She put something in the oven, hiding her face. “How are things with Noah?”

Ah. That was what she really wanted to talk about. “They’re good.” I think. “The same, you know?”

“What do you guys do together?”

Aside from evading my stalker and burning dolls? “We talk.”

“About what?”

Genetic memory. “Books.” Possession. “Movies.” Jude. “People we don’t like.”

“Do you talk about what’s going on with you?”

I tried to remember the conversation I overheard between my parents, right after my psych ward stint. Mom said it was good for me to have someone who listened—

“He’s a good listener,” I said.

“Do you talk about what’s going on with him?”

What? “What do you mean?”

She turned to face me, her features neutral and her stare direct. She searched for something in my eyes, but whatever it was, she didn’t find it because she went on. “Noah’s parents are going out of town this weekend and they sent his sister to a friend’s house, so I said he could stay here.”

I nodded. “I know. . . .” I waited for the other shoe.

“I just want to make sure I don’t have to worry about you two.”

I shook my head emphatically. “Nope. No worries.”

She mixed something together in a bowl and then set it down on the counter. “How serious are you?”

“Not serious enough for you to worry,” I said with a light smile, scrambling for a way to distract her before the conversation got seriously awkward. “Hey, Mom,” I started, remembering my conversation with Daniel. “What do you know about Jungian archetypes?” Best segue ever.

She looked appropriately surprised. “Wow, I haven’t thought about that since college. . . . I could tell you more about Jacques Lacan than Carl Jung—he was more my speed, but let’s see,” she said, drawing out the word as her eyes flicked to the ceiling. “There’s the Self, I remember, and the Shadow,” she ticked them off on her fingers, “the Persona . . . I’m blanking on the other two main ones . . . There are other archetypal figures, though—the Great Mother, the Devil, the Hero . . .” Her voice trailed off for a second before her face lit up. “Oh! And the Sage and the Trickster, too—and I’m remembering something about Oedipus, but he could be creeping in from Freud? And Apollo, maybe—” she said before being interrupted by a knock on the door.

I was already on my way out of the kitchen when she asked me to see who it was.

I opened the door to find Noah standing there in a long-sleeve plaid shirt and dark jeans, with sunglasses on that masked his eyes. He looked perfectly disheveled and perfectly blank.

He only ever shows you what he wants you to see.

“Where is everyone?” he asked evenly.

I pushed Stephanie’s words away. “Mom’s in the kitchen,” I said. “And Daniel and Joseph went to go watch someone remove an alligator from a pool.”

Noah’s brows rose above the dark lenses.

“I know.”

He sighed. “I suppose I’m going to have to wait.”

“For?”

Noah glanced at the kitchen. Not a peep from my mother. He shook his head. “Fuck it.” He reached into his back pocket and handed me a piece of paper.

No. Not a piece of paper. A picture. A faded color photograph of two girls; one blond and vibrant, wearing Noah’s half-smile, and the other—

“Holy shit,” I whispered.

The other was my grandmother.

36

NOAH,” MY MOTHER SAID, EMERGING FROM THE kitchen and wiping her hands on a towel. “We missed you.”

I stuffed the picture in my back pocket as furtively as I could.

“Thank you for having me,” Noah said. “I have something for you, from my parents—”

Mom smiled and shook her head. “Totally unnecessary.”

“It’s just in the car, I’ll go get it,” Noah said. He left and I ran to my bedroom and hid the picture before my mother saw it or I spilled water on it or it spontaneously burst into flame.

When I came back, Noah and my mom were talking in the kitchen.

“So where in London did you used to visit?” he asked her as he stirred what I thought might be salad dressing.

“Oh, you know, the usual.” She shrugged from the sink. “Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, that sort of thing.”

“Your mother grew up there?”

A hundred points for Noah Shaw. I almost mimed a high five.

Mom nodded.

“What did she do?”

“She was a student,” she said, her voice clipped.

“That’s so interesting—what university?”

My mother set the salad bowl in front of Noah. “Cambridge.”

Our eyes locked.

“Darwin College,” she went on. “She was in school for her PhD, but she never finished. I think that always bothered her. All right, you two,” she said, grinning at us. “Thanks for helping, you’re free to go.”