Within These Walls

Chapter 11

We find a back table in the cafeteria, surrounded by noise as the others eat. Willow breaks off a piece of her bread and holds it out to me. "Have either of your families ever lived in Maryland?"

"Nope," Carson answers. "You'd be hard pressed to get my family out of Georgia. We've got roots that run deeper than trees in a rainforest."

"What about you, April?"

I shake my head. I don't know much about my mom's life before I was born. For all I know, she might've grown up in Maryland and then moved to Harrisburg later in her life.

"What's your life like?" I ask Willow.

"Normal, I guess. We live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood in Hagerstown. My mom makes blueberry pancakes every Sunday morning and goes to every game and school event."

"You have siblings?"

"Yeah. Four of them, all younger."

"And your dad?" I ask.

"My dad's a cop—you know, one of those big cop types who's gained too many inches on his waistline because he can't give up coffee and donuts." She smiles. "He and my mom are still madly in love after all these years."

She must miss them like crazy. "Sounds like you've had it good."

"I did. I really lucked out, ending up with them."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"They're not my biological parents. My siblings and I are all adopted. My mom and dad didn't let a little thing like infertility get in the way of their dream of having a big family."

I stare at the group at the table in front of me. Someone snuck a chess board out of one of the blocks, and those who aren't playing are spectating from the sidelines.

"Marcus wasn't raised by his birth parents either," I say.

Carson sits up straighter. "You think that's something? A clue?"

"What's a clue?"

Alec sits down at the table, smiling warmly at me. His eyelashes are thick and dark, a contrast to the brilliance of his green eyes, and all I can think of is, why me? I can name at least five girls prettier—and far less inept—than me, and they're all sitting at the table he just left.

I look over at Willow for help, but she's staring intensely at the TV screen closest to us, focused on a survival reality show that has attracted a small crowd.

"Are you adopted?" I ask him.

A furrow forms between Alec's eyebrows. "Uh—what?"

"Marcus and Willow don't live with their birth parents. We're wondering if there's a pattern there."

"Oh. Sorry to disappoint. I live with my dad. My mom split when I was young, so there's that."

"Why did she leave?" Willow asks, turning back to him. She tilts her head. "If you don't mind me asking."

"My mom was a brilliant artist, something my dad didn't appreciate until she fell in love with a colleague and took off for California. Last I heard, they have two young boys together. She sends birthday cards. These hand-drawn ones like that'll make up for walking out on us."

"Damn," Carson says.

Alec laughs. "It's not as bad as you think. I barely remember her."

I have a feeling it does hurt, whether he remembers her or not. There's tension in his voice as he talks about her.

"Alright, enough about that," Alec says. "Camille says you found something interesting in your drawer."

"I found a lot of things." I pause. "You mean the case? The silver case? None of you got one?"