“LINUS! YOU UP?” Otis yells from downstairs.
I wake in Linus’s arms. It’s daylight. He slams out of bed and leaps to the door. He opens it and leans out.
“What is it?” Linus calls.
From below: “You forgot to take the garbage out. Parker’s upset. Come talk to him.”
I reach around the rumpled bed for my shirt and pull it on. Underneath, I adjust my camisole straps.
“Give me one minute!” Linus yells down. He closes the door and spins around, all but naked in his underwear. Grinning, he swears under his breath. “Sorry,” he whispers. He hitches up his jeans and pulls on boots. He scoops up his shirt from the floor, takes a whiff of it, whips it toward the laundry basket, and pulls a fresh one out of a drawer. He pulls it over his head, shrugs it into place, and runs a hand through his wild hair. “You okay for a minute?”
“Yes.”
He’s gone.
My lips feel sensitive when I touch them, and I’m not exactly embarrassed, but I’m fully conscious that we did a lot more than kiss last night. I pluck out my shirt to look at my port lump again, and though I hate it as much as ever, the rest of me feels pretty good.
I tiptoe off the bed and smooth out the quilt. On second thought, I change my old shirt for a clean one, one of Sammi’s yellow, scoop-necked tees. I put on fresh undies and jeans. I rub the sleepies out of the corners of my eyes and run my fingers through my hair. Male voices talk downstairs, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Then it’s quiet. I’m looking for a hairbrush when the door opens again and Linus enters, carrying a giant mug of coffee.
“Hi,” he says. He sets down the mug and tackles me back onto the bed.
“Hey!” I laugh.
He puts his finger on my lips. “Be very quiet or you’ll get no coffee.”
I squirm beneath him, and together we struggle to make no noise.
Otis and Parker finally leave for the day. I soon realize there’s no point trying to get on the Forge campus until it’s night. Besides, once I kill Berg, things could go very badly for me, so I decide to make the most of my day with Linus. I put off calling Burnham. Linus and I eat Cap’n Crunch cereal. We kiss some more. We talk. He asks about my ride in the driver-free car. I ask about the Lego Death Star. Linus teaches me to throw darts, but I’m no good because I throw too hard. We kiss some more.
It’s hard for me to avoid talking about Berg because I’m nervous about the coming night, but the more I think of it, the more I decide it’s better to keep Linus out of it. I don’t want him involved as an accessory to murder, and I don’t want him trying to convince me not to go through with it. He somehow has the mistaken impression that I’m going to get a good lawyer and emancipate myself from both Berg and my parents. Then my life is going to go back to normal. I don’t correct him. He thinks we’ll be able to date in the open, like regular people.
Late in the afternoon, he starts spaghetti sauce from scratch, cutting up tomatoes and onions. He wants it ready for when Otis and Parker come home around 6:30, and he wants me to eat with them. When he puts on a bib apron like back in his Forge kitchen days and ties the strings around his waist, it gets to me.
“What?” he says. “It keeps me clean.”
“I know. You just look nice.”
He smiles, shaking his head.
“Are you donating blood to Parker tonight? Is that why you’re making spaghetti sauce? For your tradition?”
“No,” he says. “I donated a couple of weeks ago. I promised spaghetti to Parker because I forgot to take out the garbage. Spaghetti’s his favorite.”
“You know, you could probably pay your rent with money now,” I say.
He laughs. “I do in St. Louis.”
“So you have an apartment there?”
“Yes. I’m only here on weekends when work allows,” he says.
“You sound so grown up.”
He makes a face at me.
I smile back. “Why are you still giving Parker your blood?”
“Otis still thinks it’s good for him,” Linus says. “We’re family. How can I say no?”
Molly scrambles to her feet and gives a bark. The doorbell rings. Linus and I stare at each other. I glance out the back windows, afraid I’ll see I don’t know what, but the dusky yard is empty.
“Quick. Upstairs,” Linus says, taking off his apron.
I light-foot it up as fast as I can.
Anyone who rings a doorbell can’t be too dangerous, I tell myself. Still, I grab my bag and jacket in case I have to leave quickly, and I hide in Linus’s room, crouched behind the desk, holding a dart for a weapon.
The footsteps of several people come up the stairs.
“Rosie?” Linus says, opening the door. “You in here? We have visitors.”
I straighten slowly. Behind Linus, a jock-type guy comes in and smiles politely. He has blond, short hair and a homely, square face that belongs on an Army recruitment poster. He steps aside to let in a pregnant girl.
She’s pretty, I think, taking in her dark hair, caramel skin, and hoop earrings. She’s slender everywhere except for her belly, which bulges large under a clingy green shirt. I appreciate her red Converse sneakers. Her bag looks designer. Her face is arresting in a timeless, regal way, as if she’s a lost princess, and she casts an uncertain glance around the room before she offers me a hesitant smile.
“Hey,” she says. “I’m Thea. Althea Flores.”
This girl is Thea? I’m stunned. I feel cheated. Nobody told me Thea was Latina or pregnant or older. Nobody warned me she was rich and pretty.
She’s a threat if ever I met one.