Chapter 14

I started hanging out with Fin almost every day. On the one hand, I felt like I already knew a lot about him, but at the same time, he seemed to have so many secrets. I didn’t want to ask him too many questions, though, in case he would start asking me too many questions. I wasn’t ready to put an end to my little game and confess the truth about myself.

A few days after lunch with Harriet, Fin and I wandered down the dirt road to check on the raptors. A small falcon and a hawk were the only birds in rehab at the moment and both were doing well, soon to be freed.

“So how does it work?” I asked. “Do you fling open their cages and tell them to sign out at the front desk?”

He smirked. “Very funny. We actually release them as close as possible to wherever they were rescued. But we don’t know where these two were found, so we’ll bring them up the mountain behind the farm. The hawk prefers the woods, so he’ll be released in the trees, but we’ll bring the little falcon to the top where it’s nice and open.”

“And they take off like nothing ever happened?”

“No, they usually hang out for a couple hours to get their bearings. But once they’re ready to go, it’s incredible to watch them take flight again, all on their own. When they’re released at the top of the mountain, sometimes you can watch them soar for a long time—over the treetops, across the river, and down through the valley—until they disappear from sight.”

The way Fin described it, staring off into the distance, made it sound amazing.

“Can I come and help?”

“I don’t know,” he said, as he locked up their cages. “Legally you have to be eighteen years old to get a wildlife permit.”

A jolt of shock ran through my body. “Are you eighteen years old?”

He laughed. “I’m only fifteen, so technically I’m not allowed to handle the birds on my own either. I can’t wait to get licensed in three years.”

I tried to listen to him, but I didn’t hear anything after he said he was fifteen. I’d assumed he was a year or so older than I was, but I never would have guessed he was three years older.

“So, you’re in high school?” I asked.

He took off the heavy leather gloves and tucked them in a metal box. “I’ve always been home schooled for various reasons,” he said and crossed his arms in that way he did when he was getting serious. “Why? Are you older than fifteen?”

I gulped. “Nope.”

“Because I assumed you were like fourteen? No offense, you’re really smart and interesting, but you have a sweet way about you that makes you seem a little younger.”

I could feel myself blush.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “I don’t care if you’re only fourteen. Really, Chloe. You’re a lot more mature than most girls I know. It’s just a number.”

I realized he was right, but at the same time, his age made me think differently about him. About us.

***

One rainy afternoon, Dad suggested we go to the movies. He said he was tired of writing and needed a break. We drove to a mall near the grocery store to watch a superhero film. The theater was already dark by the time we sat down. Dad held a bucket of greasy popcorn between us. The first previews blasted onto the screen and right away, a little kid began to cry.

“Why do people bring babies to the movies?” Dad whispered.

I laughed. “Maybe because we’re watching a kids’ film?”

Near the front of the theater, a woman with a shrieking little boy in her arms stood and slid past the others in her row. As she hurried up the aisle, I was shocked to see it was Stella carrying Wyatt. I slipped down into my seat and turned away.

“Agnes?” said Dad. “Are you feeling all right?”

I paused for a second, waiting for them to pass. “I’m not sure.”

He leaned against my shoulder. “Do you need to leave, honey?”

“Maybe.”

He waited for me to make a decision, but I didn’t know what to do. It had never occurred to me that my two worlds could actually collide.

“Headache or stomachache?” Dad whispered.

I said the only thing I knew would sound convincing. “Cramps.”

Two minutes later Stella returned, rushing down the dark aisle with Wyatt, who was quietly holding a large box of candy. The theater wasn’t even half full so there was a good chance she’d see me when the lights went on at the end.

“It’s your call,” said Dad. “I’m fine either way.”

I felt terrible ruining his one day off. He’d been working so hard lately that he’d barely had a chance to ride his bike. But I knew I couldn’t risk Stella spotting me. “I think we’d better go.”

The rain was pouring, so we were soaked by the time we climbed inside the little green car. On the drive back to the house, neither of us said a word. The windshield wipers didn’t work very well, so Dad had to squint, concentrating extra hard on the road. By the time we pulled in our driveway, the downpour had slowed to a drizzle. I turned to open my door, but Dad took my hand.

“Agnes. Why haven’t you called your mother yet?”

Apparently, Mo was still leaving Dad messages about my lack of communication and was starting to blame him.

I didn’t know how to explain to Dad that I didn’t want anything to do with my old life. So I said nothing and stared at my lap.

“If you’re getting cramps this bad, you should let her know,” he added. “I’m really not an expert in that field. Mo is the one who can answer any questions you might have.”

“Okay, okay,” I groaned. “I’ll call her.”

“Now?” he asked. “Please?”

I felt so guilty about ruining our one afternoon together, I agreed. So as soon as I was back in my bedroom, I braced myself and powered up my phone.

“For Godzilla’s sake, Agnes Moon! I’ve been worried sick about you. Why haven’t you called or sent me one single text?!”

Hearing my mother say my name made my entire body cramp. “I’ve been really busy, Mo. So, how’s Kansas?”

“Kansas is fine, thank you very much. In fact, Kansas is fabulous if you want to know the truth. And little Georgie is having the time of his life, which could have been the same for you if you’d given Topeka a chance. Everyone loves Richard’s murals. He’s the talk of the town!”

“That’s nice.”

“So what could possibly be keeping you so busy that you can’t find a moment to send your only mother a quick photo or a text to let her know you’re alive?”

“Of course I’m alive. I’m pretty sure Dad would let you know if I’d died.”

“Always the wise cracker!”

I wanted more than anything to get off the phone, but then Mo insisted I say hello to George.

“Top of the day to you!” he blurted way too loudly in his stupid butler voice.

“Hello, George. Now put Mo back on the phone.”

“Isn’t he a pistol?” said Mo. “That kid is going to take the world by storm just like his father.”

Somehow my mother always managed to say exactly the wrong thing at exactly the wrong moment.

“I have to go, Mo.”

“Wait. What about Timothy? Is he feeling okay? He sounds okay.”

“Of course he’s okay.”

“So the illness . . . ?”

Ugh. I had completely forgotten about the whole reason for this summer happening at all.

“He’s, uh, pretty much recovered, I think,” I replied. “He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Figures!” she said dryly. “That apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Don’t worry about us, Mo. He’s fine and I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine.”

“I’m more than fine! I have a little headache, that’s all.”

“Another sign of oncoming menstruation. I hope your father bought you a new box of pads?”

“Oh no, you’re breaking up. I can’t hear you. I’d better go, Mo. Bye!”

What started off as a great day had now become just another crummy episode in Agnes’s doomed life. There was no way I was going back to that.