Simon knocked on my door a few minutes after I’d crept back inside and up to my room. He held out a steaming mug when I cracked it open. No china service this time, just a plain blue chipped coffee mug with faded yellow letters on the side. SMILE. That was rich.
“When I used to sneak out, I went down the old fire escape at the end of the hall,” he said. “You’re going to get tetanus on that trellis.”
I took the mug, feeling my face turn red. At least my cheeks warmed up when it did. I wasn’t used to normal people, people like Simon, who didn’t scam and con people as a way of life, figuring me out.
“Not used to being the one on the spot, are you?” Simon invited himself in and sat in the little chair next to my vanity. I flinched seeing how close he was to the drawer where I’d found the bloody shirt but forced myself to stay calm. I hadn’t done anything. I had nothing to feel guilty about.
“What gave me away?” I said. I tried the tea. It was some kind of herbal blend and stirred with enough sugar to give me type 2 diabetes.
“Myra was the same way,” he said. “Always watching people. Hanging back. Getting a read on them so she’d know how to manip—how to act around them.”
“She was manipulative,” I said. “You can say it. I know she played people. She would have been a crappy psychic if she wasn’t.”
Simon tried to smile, but it looked pained, like he’d just realized he was sitting on a pin. “I don’t mean to imply she was malicious, Ivy, I really don’t. She and I both had our share of baggage, even as kids. Growing up here wasn’t easy. In a way, you’re lucky you got out of it.”
It was my turn to flinch. I managed not to pour the mug of hot tea on my uncle’s head, so that was something. He had no idea, none at all, about what it was to grow up without enough food, without a real bed, knowing that acquiring those things depended at least partly on you. “Figured she left because she didn’t get a pony for her birthday,” I said, to cover the stab his words had aimed into me.
Simon’s unpracticed smile turned back into a grimace. “Trust me, Ivy, there are dark places even in lives that look perfect from outside. If your mother didn’t tell you much about her past, I have to assume she had her reasons.” He stood, smoothing the wrinkles from his khakis. “Have a good evening.”
I wanted to stop him, to blurt out everything she’d done, starting with the bathtub. I wanted to hurt Simon like he’d just hurt me.
But I fought the impulse. I had more control than that. I had, after all, had a great teacher. Whatever else Mom was, she never ever miscalculated and got emotional when she was dealing with people outside our family.
“I’m tired,” I said. “I’ll probably just go to bed.”
Simon came back and patted me on the shoulder. His grip was firmer than I expected from his spindly arm and hand. “Of course you are,” he said. “I’ll leave you be. And, Ivy?”
He paused in my open door, and I kicked off my boots, letting my sore feet and general exhaustion win out over the shit fit Mrs. MacLeod would surely throw when she saw the mud on my floor. “Yeah?” I said, flopping backward on the bed.
“Next time you’re tempted to follow me, don’t,” he said. “The Ramseys don’t like our family, they like outsiders even less, and they’re firmly dedicated to the second amendment.” He brushed his hand across his forehead, putting his glasses askew. “Liam Ramsey is a paranoid hillbilly who thinks the government listens in on everyone and is out to get him specifically, and the rest of his family isn’t much brighter.”
“I get it,” I said. “Although, technically the government does listen in on everyone.”
“Go to sleep,” Simon said. “Julia will be here at seven to take you over to get registered at the high school. I filled out all the forms online, so all you have to do is show up.”
I expected to have a terrible time falling asleep after everything—with the bloody shirt, and what I’d overheard about Neil, and Simon turning out to be way more observant than I’d calculated—but I’d barely flicked off my light when sleep hit me like one of the waves pounding the cliffs below my window, pulling me deep into its undertow and blessedly shutting off my thoughts for the night.