The Reckless Oath We Made - Bryn Greenwood Page 0,29
and thunking noise I’d heard the day before and, when I looked out the patio doors, I saw Gentry and Trang, swinging swords at each other. Not the low-key back and forth he’d done with Marcus, but really whaling on each other.
When I glanced back at Charlene and Bernice, they had their heads together over a cellphone. Bernice looked at me and then away, like I’d caught her at something. All the sudden, they both got up and went into the laundry room. I could hear them whispering for probably ten minutes, before Charlene came out and gestured for me. I felt light-headed when I stood up. Some of that was from not eating anything since breakfast, but the rest of it was fear.
“Have you seen the news?” Charlene whispered when I got to the laundry room. Bernice had the phone in her hand, and she looked as nervous as I felt.
“Before. Earlier. Have they—” I leaned against the washer. Even though the vibrating made me queasy, I needed the support. “Do they know who it is?”
“No, they haven’t said, but I wanted to be sure you’d heard,” Charlene said.
I nodded and limped back out to the front room. I didn’t want to be rude, but I couldn’t talk about it. After a few minutes, Charlene walked Bernice to the front door. I could hear bits and pieces of what they said: remember to get the ham—need to put the rug back—Gentry can help—did you find the curtain rods? Just boring everyday stuff, but full of the kind of shorthand you use with someone you know really well. Someone like your sister. There was a little bit of silence, which must have been them hugging, and then: love you, baby girl—love you, too—see you on Sunday. I colored harder, trying not to cry.
When Bill came home, Charlene and Gentry cooked dinner, which was taco salad, complete with every kind of thing you could imagine to put on it. I got the impression meals at Gentry’s house always involved lots of things to be sliced and diced. I was relieved not to get the impression that I’d overstayed my welcome.
Toward the end of dinner, my phone vibrated. I slipped it out of my pocket and looked at it under the table. The Gills. Calling me for the third time that day.
“You’re not allowed to have your phone at the table,” Elana said.
“Last I checked, you weren’t the dinner table police,” Charlene said.
“I’m sorry. I need to take this.” I pushed my chair back and answered as I was walking away from the table.
“This is Harold Gill,” he said, so I knew it was serious. So serious it made my taco salad go wobbly in my stomach. He never called. It was always Winnie.
“Hey. I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls, but obviously things are kind of crazy right now.” I mostly wasn’t in the business of apologizing to assholes, but I wanted to play nice. Harold didn’t.
“It has come to my attention that Marcus has not been in school since Monday,” he said.
“It has come to your attention?” I said it like a question, but I knew how he knew. They’d called the school and, since they were on the approved list of people, the office secretary must have told them that Marcus hadn’t been in class.
“I do not feel it’s appropriate for him to be out of school,” Harold said.
“His mother has been kidnapped and maybe she’s—and you think going to school is the most important thing right now? Because I kind of thought it might be better to wait for some news.” I hadn’t really thought it through at all, but fucked if I was telling Harold that.
“I expect my grandson to be in school tomorrow. Especially during such a chaotic time, he needs routine.” Oh, now Harold was an expert on childhood psychology. “This is not an idle threat. If I call tomorrow and he is not in class, I will get my lawyer involved. You are not a custodial parent. You do not have the right to make the decision to keep him out of school.”
I took the phone away from my ear, because I didn’t trust myself not to curse or cry or yell. When I was calm enough, I put the phone back to my ear and said, “Of course. He’ll go to school tomorrow.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Goodbye.”
That’s what kind of an asshole Grandy Harold was. Not a drop of concern about LaReigne.