Betrayal - By Lee Nichols Page 0,45

with people who are just as whacked as me.”

Nobody said anything for a moment, and I knew Natalie was thinking the same thing I was. Lukas was one of us. His parents hadn’t been there when he needed them most.

“Do your mom and dad know you’re here?” Natalie asked.

“I told my dad I got a scholarship to boarding school. I think he figured if I disappeared, so would the problem.”

“They didn’t expect you home today?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Some pretty messed-up things were said when I left.”

“Give them time, Lukas,” Simon said. “My parents never understood, either, but we’ve managed to preserve our relationship. We just don’t discuss it.”

“Man, but it’s everything though, you know?” Lukas said. “You try to maintain, but the ghosts are always there in the background.”

We all nodded. We knew. Maybe that’s why we all got along so well. We all lived this double life, we all doubted ourselves, and we all knew how it felt when people in your family turned their backs.

“How about you, Emma?” Simon asked.

I thought for a moment, then sent for the house ghosts: Could you come into the dining room, please? Yes, even you, Anatole.

When they shimmered through the walls, I said, “What I’m most grateful for is you. My new family. The people who are actually there for me, day in and day out. The only ones who really understand me, and accept me, and …” I almost teared up. “If it weren’t for you, I think I’d crawl into a black hole and never come out.”

“We love you, too,” Natalie said. She raised her crystal goblet—Simon had poured each of us half a glass of red wine—and said, “To Emma.”

“To Emma,” they echoed.

“And to all of you,” I replied before sipping my wine. “Especially Simon, for letting us have wine.”

I ignored Simon’s look of hesitation. He was still worried someone here had betrayed us. But I knew he was wrong. This was my family. I trusted them with my life.

Now if only Bennett would walk through the door.

But he didn’t. Not before dinner. Not during dinner. Not after dinner. He never showed.

I brushed my teeth and scowled at my reflection, then went into my bedroom. A moment later, I heard a tap on the door. Celeste came inside, her flowing red hair burnished by the light of the fireplace.

Maybe I should dye my hair, I said.

She pursed her lips disapprovingly. Your hair iz lovely. And so iz what you say at dinner, about family.

Thanks. I … you said he always came home for Thanksgiving.

If he cannot, he cannot. But Master Bennett, he iz a good man. You know thiz. Oh! I just remember. She took a small black box with a red bow from her apron. Thiz came for you.

I smiled happily. I loved gifts. Then I remembered Simon’s warning about trusting no one—which came pretty naturally, actually. Where’d it come from?

The special-delivery man.

You think it’s okay? It’s not, like, some kind of spectral mail bomb?

I do not know theez words. I think iz okay.

I ran my finger around the edge of the black box and didn’t feel any sense of ghostly resonance, so I opened the lid and found a nest of red tissue paper inside. Buried beneath the layers was an iPhone.

That iz not jewelry, Celeste said, clearly unimpressed.

I grinned as I grabbed the phone and turned it on. Weird. Who’d send me a phone? I swiped to unlock it and found a shoe-phone icon and I knew the answer. There was also a little 1 next to the mail application, which I touched with my finger.

A message had been sent to EmmaVaile at an account I didn’t recognize. It was from BennettStern at the same network.

Four words: “I’m grateful for you.”

I felt my face light up with joy. It’s from Bennett.

Iz still not jewelry, Celeste said, but she looked pleased for me. Then she faded away, leaving me alone with my gift, which I liked a thousand times better than any bracelet.

I tried to e-mail him back, but the account no longer existed. I flipped through the other applications and found the phone loaded with apps and ringtones. Then I clicked the music. He’d loaded a hundred songs, all of them about love. Some I recognized, some I didn’t.

I plugged in the white buds and settled into one of the playlists. As the beats began to throb, I was grateful, too. Grateful he hadn’t forgotten me.

13

On Saturday, we trained with Simon all morning.