“I give orders to the boys to let you rest, and you walk in Monday morning looking like a train wreck. Something happened.”
“Do I look that bad?” I said quietly, hurt that he thought me a wreck in any instance.
He blinked hard and his eyes readjusted, focusing on my face. “There’s shadows under your eyes again,” he said softly.
I reached up, touching briefly at the soft skin of my lower eye lid. I’d had a moment where I thought I should ask Gabriel for assistance with more makeup and hide the shadows, but I had a feeling this was the completely wrong answer. Hiding my tired state wasn’t what he wanted.
I didn’t have another answer to give him, because the alternative meant avoiding the boys altogether to allow rest, and even then I wasn’t sure that would work. I’d be stressed, worried about what was going on at school, especially now.
He breathed out slowly, refocusing on the window behind me. “Have you been eating?”
“Yes,” I said, with more confidence than the last time he’d asked me the same question. That was mostly true.
“And taking the vitamins?”
“I’ve been trying. They make my stomach hurt.”
His eyes briefly focused on me again before returning to the window. “Mr. Coleman mentioned they were testing the vitamins with you.”
“Can’t I just eat more food?” I asked. “I don’t suppose we could skip the testing.”
“Like you’ve been skipping sleep?”
“Not on purpose,” I said. “There’s—”
“Always a reason,” he said. He sighed, sitting back a little.
This completely distracted me. I hated feeling like I’d let him down when it was my own health, something I should worry about, not him.
But looking at him caught my attention. The way his glasses sat along his nose, his face splashed with sunlight, the shape of his face was clearer. There were shadows underneath his own steel eyes. “Not to deflect,” I said softly, “but I don’t believe I’m the only one not sleeping well.”
This time when he looked at me, he held my gaze. There was a challenge in it. I held my ground. Maybe I hadn’t made all the right choices this weekend, but I did what the boys told me to do and I did the best I could. Would he have me do things any differently?
“Miss Sorenson,” he said, and parted his lips to continue, but stopped short when the door to the dining room open behind me.
The waitress returned with a steak and side salad for him, and a chicken salad for me – I gathered that must be what cobb meant. She planted steak sauce and a tiny tin pitcher with salad dressing in front of us and asked if we’d like anything else. Mr. Blackbourne was quick to dismiss her with a thank you, and she seemed happy that he was pleased.
When we were alone again, Mr. Blackbourne jerked his napkin from the table, unfolding it and dropping it into his lap. “Did you learn anything valuable this weekend that I should be aware of? I got a partial report from Mr. Lee regarding some of the more pertinent events.”
“Did he tell you about my sister and her party?” I figured he had, since he’d been the one talking to them when they were at the hospital.
The corner of his mouth dipped. He focused on his steak, cutting it into pieces. “I understand you talked with her about the party. Will she cease this behavior?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “She somewhat agreed to no big parties at the house. Kota mentioned she doesn’t recall doing any drugs. I don’t think she’s the type. She’s influenced by Danielle, though. I don’t know what they might do next, but they don’t really listen to me. Her promise might not hold.”
“One more party would be two too many,” Mr. Blackbourne said.
I speared at my salad, taking small bites without relish. It looked delicious and I was hungry, but the conversation was making my stomach turn, though it couldn’t be avoided. “Nathan wants me to move out of the house. He says it’s too dangerous to stay any longer.”
“He might be correct,” Mr. Blackbourne said, but his attention was diverted again. His head was still, but his eyes darted back and forth, looking behind me. It was difficult not to turn around to see what he was looking at. “Your parents may no longer be a threat, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t return. And before that happens, your sister and her friends may put you in a position you don’t want to be in, requiring us to move you to a safer location.”
I focused on a cherry tomato, impaling it. I slid the fork against the side of the plate, letting the fruit fall back into the lettuce. “Nathan wants me to move in with him.”
“Out of the question,” Mr. Blackbourne said. He planted a piece of steak into his mouth. He finished his bite, swallowed and took a sip of water before continuing. “You can’t move into his house right now. I think you’ve met his father. You’re to stay away from him at all cost.”
“Nathan wants us to get an apartment near where Silas lives.”
Mr. Blackbourne shook his head. “We’re not prepared for it. There’s no way you two could afford an apartment together without working way more than you should, even at the diner. Neither of you can drop out of school right now. He’s under Academy obligation and if you drop out, the state will look at you more closely. Working around school hours right now would be impossible. You’re already wearing yourself out.”
I bit my lip, turning the tomato over with my fork, rolling it around in my plate. He was right. When he put it like that, I realized how impossible it was. Nathan was obligated under an Academy request to work undercover at Ashley Waters and neither one of us could afford an apartment on part-time incomes and keep up with everything. “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” I said in a small voice.
I felt the steel in his stare, even as I focused on my salad. A silence fell. I couldn’t imagine anything he could say. I couldn’t move out on my own without getting a full-time job and I couldn’t do that if I needed to stay in school. I wasn’t safe at home, even without my mother there to punish me like she used to. I was stuck.
I caught movement from the corner of my eye on the driving range and turned to focus. Mr. Hendricks was walking out with a set of clubs slung over his shoulder. Another man followed beside him. They set themselves up, dropping golf balls onto the mats at their feet. Other golfers stood next to them, but the mats next to them were vacant. They were close enough that I could see what they were doing, but too far away to catch any facial expressions or too many details.
Mr. Hendricks wasted no time and started swinging at balls, hitting them down the range. The man next to him started talking.
“What’s going on?” I asked Mr. Blackbourne. It was my turn to stare over his shoulder. Why didn’t he warn me they were heading out?
“They’ve been talking about golf all throughou
t lunch,” Mr. Blackbourne said.
“Is this a waste of time?” I asked. “If all they talk about is golf—”
“The man with him is Superintendent Crowley,” he said. “Take a good look at him.”
I focused, noting the dark curly hair surrounding a bald spot that was forming on the back of the head. When he turned his face to address Mr. Hendricks, I caught a large hook nose on his otherwise average face. “So he’s Mr. Hendricks’s boss?”
“Yes,” Mr. Blackbourne said. “They work together. So how is it they’re spending an afternoon with each other and work hasn’t popped up once during their discussions? The superintendent didn’t even ask him how the school was doing. Not a word.”
I didn’t have an answer for that, but kept my eyes on the two men now. Mr. Hendricks had stepped up, smacking several balls downrange. Mr. Crowley talked. He only paused when the ball sailed out. When the ball landed on the green, Mr. Crowley turned back to Mr. Hendricks and he started talking again. “Are they talking about golf, now?”
“He’s telling Mr. Hendricks how to perfect his swing.”
I stared hard at the back of Mr. Hendricks’s head and tried to focus. “His ears are turning red. Either he’s getting warmed up or he’s irritated.”
I caught the flicker of the corner of Mr. Blackbourne’s mouth rising just a millimeter. “He hasn’t said anything for thirty minutes. I don’t think he’s very happy with Mr. Crowley’s company.”
I watched Mr. Hendricks swinging at the golf balls. If Mr. Crowley was telling him how to perfect his swing, Mr. Hendricks was completely ignoring it. He stood the same way every time. The ball flew in almost the same direction and landed about the same distance. “Is golf supposed to be fun? Or relaxing?”
“It depends on the person,” Mr. Blackbourne said. “For some people, it’s light competition. It’s popular for business colleagues. Lots of business deals are conducted on a golf course.”
I broke my gaze from Mr. Hendricks and the superintendent, focusing on the other players. There was a woman not too far from them who was alone, and hit the ball at different angles down the range. She was pretty, wearing a short sporty skirt and a slim fitting polo shirt. Behind her were more men lined up along the driving range. Small groups talked amongst themselves. Some weren’t hitting golf balls at all. They simply stood with water bottles or cups in their hands, staring off at the greens. On occasion they watched the woman. They chattered. They smiled. They nudged each other’s arms.