In Between the Lines

Chapter 11: The Old Man and the Sea (Part 1)

And as I placed the book back on its rightful shelf, I wondered which one of us—me or my mother—would have been the fish.

***

"Looks like you get to stay. I would tell you to make yourself at home but . . . " I walked towards our maid and placed a hand on the sweet, old woman's shoulder before I turned back to face my mother. "Elise will show you to your room. Marco's her husband and our house chef. He can pretty much cook anything you can think of, so if you need him." I pointed towards the hall that led to the kitchen.

My mother gave Elise a dismissive once-over that made me want to gouge her eyes out. "No uniform for your staff?" 

"Is there a problem with that?" I looked towards the maid, who always wore her silver-white hair in a neat bun, a long-sleeve sweater paired with loose-fitting pants, unable to see what the problem was.

My mother scrunched her nose. "You shouldn't give the staff the wrong idea about getting too comfortable. I'll have to talk to your father about that."

Blood rushed to my ears. "Don't talk about Elise like she's not standing—"

"Mr. Sullivan," Elise cut in, her smile as polite and warm as ever, "understands that for people of my age, it is comfort that is more important than fashion, especially for productivity." She reached for my mother's bags without glancing at her again. "I will bring these up to your room, Miss Archer."

The maid smiled at me as she passed, letting me read the words she'd written clear as day in her eyes. Don't worry about me. I can handle her.

I nodded, knowing she very well could.

And then I grabbed my coat and headed for the door. 

"Where are you going?" My mother frowned.

"Out."

I'd texted Dez back earlier, agreeing to meet him at a park near our school to talk about how we could possibly get Hannah and Lewis to talk. I welcomed the distraction just as much as I was glad for the excuse to get far, far away from my mother—who was now crossing her arms and looking at me like I'd lost my mind.

"On a school night?"

"I'm not going to a club," I said dryly. "Not that it's your business anymore, but I'm hanging out with a friend."

She tilted her chin up, looking down at me through her nose in a way that I knew was supposed to make me feel small. She crossed her arms. "I wanted to talk to you."

"You've had two years to talk to me." I shrugged as I opened the front door and stepped out. "Don't expect me to drop everything just because you suddenly decided to come back from the dead."

***

Ethan dropped me off just a little ways down the street from the park. I walked the three minutes of the rest of the way alone, reminding myself that I didn't have to live like this forever, always trailed by a bodyguard, unable to drive my own car—constantly avoiding anyone discovering why I didn't. I told myself this was only temporary, just until the feds found him.

For the past year, I hadn't dared say his name out loud. I didn't even think it—for fear that it would be like some universal calling to him. That it would somehow conjure him up and lead him straight to me.

I'll find you.

A shiver coiled down my spine, like a snake wrapping itself around its victim before it finally squeezed. But I tossed his last, chilling words out of my mind as I approached the wooden bench where a boy with dark chestnut hair sat, waiting for me. And as those steady amber eyes met mine, for a moment, it felt as if someone had pried the snake clean off my back.