Sweet Venom
Page 77
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“I can take care of myself,” she says with absolute finality. She doesn’t look me in the eyes. “You do the same.”
She reaches into her pocket, pulls a few crumpled bills out, and throws them on the table. Then, without a glance at either me or Greer, she stomps out of the restaurant.
“Is she always so difficult?” Greer asks.
I sigh. “She’s had a tough week.”
“Tell me about it,” Greer says with a laugh. “And that’s not even taking into account the madness you two brought to my door.”
I study her, the image of poised perfection. Perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect makeup. I wonder if the rest of her life is this perfect, or if it’s just the image.
“What are your parents like?” I ask. It’s a question I can’t ask Gretchen—I don’t need to ask—but I want to know more about Greer too.
“Wonderful,” she replies automatically. Almost like a robot. Then she blinks a few times and admits, “They’re gone a lot. Doing very important jobs and supporting very worthy causes, of course.”
“Of course,” I agree. But I definitely get the subtext.
“They—I—” She breathes in and out purposefully. “I had no idea I was adopted.”
My mouth pulls into a silent Oh. “No wonder you were so shocked to find us on your front step,” I say. “I’ve always known, and it just never entered my mind that you might not.”
“Yes, well—” She straightens her spine and smiles “What about your parents? Are they . . . nice?”
I can’t help but beam. “Oh, they’re great. They’re very loving and supportive and I can’t imagine better parents. And I have a brother named Thane.”
“What kind of name is Thane?” she asks, and I can’t tell if she’s intrigued or appalled.
“The kind he came with,” I say, kind of defensively. “He’s great too.”
“I’m sure.”
This time I can tell she’s mocking me. She has no idea. Maybe she’s okay with parents who are off running businesses and saving the world, with no time left for her, but she shouldn’t make assumptions about anyone else’s parents.
We fall into a kind of awkward silence until, suddenly, she pushes back from the table and stands.
“You know what?” she says, pulling out her wallet and throwing a fifty dollar bill on the table. “Gretchen had the right idea.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I have a busy life,” she says, slipping her purse onto her shoulder, “and a bright future. I have an alumnae tea to organize and class president duties and a very busy social calendar. Monsters don’t fit into the plan.”
“What about sisters?” I ask, my voice small, afraid I won’t like the answer.
She looks down at me, her silver eyes cold and empty, and says, “Sisters don’t fit either.”
Then she turns on her very high heels and strides away. I watch, helpless, as she disappears out the front door. She can’t mean that. She can’t walk away, they can’t walk away from this. I mean, we’re sisters. That has to count for something. That has to count for everything.
I drop back into my seat, completely deflated. How could this all go so wrong so fast? How could my sisters—my sisters!—not see how wonderful it is that we’ve found each other after all these years? How can they not see how important it is for us to stick together in this crazy monster-hunting business, especially now that so much is changing? Our lives, and the lives of countless humans, depend on us.
“Your sisters leave?” the waitress asks, eyeing their empty seats.
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “They’re gone.”
I shove my barely touched avocado roll away. My appetite isn’t about to return now. The waitress clears away our plates and I’m left feeling completely alone at a table for three. This isn’t right.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, staring blankly at nothing in particular. Hours maybe. But all of a sudden, after processing the swirl of sadness, depression, and helplessness, I come to a decision. I’m done watching things happen around me. I’m going to take action.
“I can’t let them walk away.”
I push to my feet, leaving my money on the table with Greer’s and Gretchen’s—that’ll be one very happy waitress when she counts her tips—and head out onto the sidewalk with a sense of purpose. They may think they can go back to the way things always were, to pretend that we never met, but everything has changed. And I’m going to make them see that.
I don’t know how, for sure, but I will not sit by and let my long-lost sisters vanish back into oblivion.
Chapter 23
Grace
By the time I get to my apartment building, I have the rudimentary basics of a plan. Tomorrow after school I will go to Gretchen’s as usual, like I’ve been doing for a week. I will convince her that I still need to be trained, just in case I slip up or a monster recognizes me. She feels responsible for my safety, so that shouldn’t be impossible. Then, once I’ve got her back on board, I’ll convince her we need to train Greer for the same reason. It’s perfect.
In fact, I’m feeling so optimistic that I decide to be proactive about one more thing in my life. Sitting down on one of the white concrete benches in the courtyard, I pull out my phone and search for Milo’s number—which I might have accidentally kinda saved when I overheard him giving it to Thane.
She reaches into her pocket, pulls a few crumpled bills out, and throws them on the table. Then, without a glance at either me or Greer, she stomps out of the restaurant.
“Is she always so difficult?” Greer asks.
I sigh. “She’s had a tough week.”
“Tell me about it,” Greer says with a laugh. “And that’s not even taking into account the madness you two brought to my door.”
I study her, the image of poised perfection. Perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect makeup. I wonder if the rest of her life is this perfect, or if it’s just the image.
“What are your parents like?” I ask. It’s a question I can’t ask Gretchen—I don’t need to ask—but I want to know more about Greer too.
“Wonderful,” she replies automatically. Almost like a robot. Then she blinks a few times and admits, “They’re gone a lot. Doing very important jobs and supporting very worthy causes, of course.”
“Of course,” I agree. But I definitely get the subtext.
“They—I—” She breathes in and out purposefully. “I had no idea I was adopted.”
My mouth pulls into a silent Oh. “No wonder you were so shocked to find us on your front step,” I say. “I’ve always known, and it just never entered my mind that you might not.”
“Yes, well—” She straightens her spine and smiles “What about your parents? Are they . . . nice?”
I can’t help but beam. “Oh, they’re great. They’re very loving and supportive and I can’t imagine better parents. And I have a brother named Thane.”
“What kind of name is Thane?” she asks, and I can’t tell if she’s intrigued or appalled.
“The kind he came with,” I say, kind of defensively. “He’s great too.”
“I’m sure.”
This time I can tell she’s mocking me. She has no idea. Maybe she’s okay with parents who are off running businesses and saving the world, with no time left for her, but she shouldn’t make assumptions about anyone else’s parents.
We fall into a kind of awkward silence until, suddenly, she pushes back from the table and stands.
“You know what?” she says, pulling out her wallet and throwing a fifty dollar bill on the table. “Gretchen had the right idea.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I have a busy life,” she says, slipping her purse onto her shoulder, “and a bright future. I have an alumnae tea to organize and class president duties and a very busy social calendar. Monsters don’t fit into the plan.”
“What about sisters?” I ask, my voice small, afraid I won’t like the answer.
She looks down at me, her silver eyes cold and empty, and says, “Sisters don’t fit either.”
Then she turns on her very high heels and strides away. I watch, helpless, as she disappears out the front door. She can’t mean that. She can’t walk away, they can’t walk away from this. I mean, we’re sisters. That has to count for something. That has to count for everything.
I drop back into my seat, completely deflated. How could this all go so wrong so fast? How could my sisters—my sisters!—not see how wonderful it is that we’ve found each other after all these years? How can they not see how important it is for us to stick together in this crazy monster-hunting business, especially now that so much is changing? Our lives, and the lives of countless humans, depend on us.
“Your sisters leave?” the waitress asks, eyeing their empty seats.
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “They’re gone.”
I shove my barely touched avocado roll away. My appetite isn’t about to return now. The waitress clears away our plates and I’m left feeling completely alone at a table for three. This isn’t right.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, staring blankly at nothing in particular. Hours maybe. But all of a sudden, after processing the swirl of sadness, depression, and helplessness, I come to a decision. I’m done watching things happen around me. I’m going to take action.
“I can’t let them walk away.”
I push to my feet, leaving my money on the table with Greer’s and Gretchen’s—that’ll be one very happy waitress when she counts her tips—and head out onto the sidewalk with a sense of purpose. They may think they can go back to the way things always were, to pretend that we never met, but everything has changed. And I’m going to make them see that.
I don’t know how, for sure, but I will not sit by and let my long-lost sisters vanish back into oblivion.
Chapter 23
Grace
By the time I get to my apartment building, I have the rudimentary basics of a plan. Tomorrow after school I will go to Gretchen’s as usual, like I’ve been doing for a week. I will convince her that I still need to be trained, just in case I slip up or a monster recognizes me. She feels responsible for my safety, so that shouldn’t be impossible. Then, once I’ve got her back on board, I’ll convince her we need to train Greer for the same reason. It’s perfect.
In fact, I’m feeling so optimistic that I decide to be proactive about one more thing in my life. Sitting down on one of the white concrete benches in the courtyard, I pull out my phone and search for Milo’s number—which I might have accidentally kinda saved when I overheard him giving it to Thane.
