I need to get out of here.
“Amir, I need the list of the deceased. They won’t release it for a while. Call the White House. Call Dad’s secretaries, the congressmen, whoever—you have the numbers. All of them. I need the info before it’s released to the press. You know the whole world will be calling in minutes.”
He nods. “Some already did. This happened half an hour ago.”
“Give me some time. I need to be somewhere quieter.”
I turn and leave, Marlow following.
Outside, the sound of the party music in the distance creates a strange spell.
Can’t be.
Not my dad.
Not right now.
I jump on the scooter and zoom toward my villa. Marlow and Slate follow, and inside, I just stand in the center of the living room and stare at the floor, trying to think, but there are no thoughts.
“Here.” Marlow presses a drink into my hand, and I chug it. Another drink appears in my hand.
“Arch, I’m so sorry,” Marlow says.
Slate stands by the door like he is blocking me from escaping.
“It’s no one’s fault. It’s… Weird,” I exhale in a whisper, trying to figure out how I feel.
My phone rings again. I don’t pick up. Marlow does and passes it to me. “It’s Amir.”
His stare is unblinking as I take the phone out of his hand and press it to my ear. “Yes, Amir,” I say quietly as if afraid to wake up a monster.
“Just got off the phone with the White House Chief of Staff. The Secretary sent a message to them two minutes before the explosion. His security card was swiped on the third floor twenty minutes before.” Amir pauses for a second that is too heavy. “He was at the Assembly, Archer,” he says quieter.
I hang up.
No family.
The thought is bewildering. Lonely. Devastating. But in the gentlest way. Like a whisper. That’s how the worst news is often said—in a low voice. They need to touch you gently before they assault you with full force.
“I think I need a moment alone,” I say.
Marlow slowly smoothes his hair as he looks at me from under his eyebrows like it’s his fault. “Hey, if you need anything, I’ll be at the Center, yeah? I’ll call and check on you.”
I don’t answer, hear Marlow and Slate leave, and just stand there, wondering if I am cursed.
56
KAT
Marlow and Slateare walking across the front lawn of Cliff Villa when I storm by.
“Kat!”
“Not now!” I blurt and stomp into the villa.
My eyes burn with tears.
That was the last straw. Sharing the picture of me was just weak. And if it wasn’t Archer, even showing it to someone or taking it without my consent was just wrong.