Chapter Thirty-Five
The second I stepped back through the closet and my toes touched the familiar carpet of the guestroom; I let out a sigh of relief. I could now pretend none of that had happened and that I was back to being a normal girl.
Except the fact that I now had color on my skin where there was once only black.
And the kiss.
I couldn't really stop thinking about that. My brain was functioning like this. I'm an Elite. I kissed Cecil. What am I going to wear to the party? I really, really kissed Cecil. My father is not going to let me out of his sight for days. I freaking KISSED Cecil. I'm hungry.
So yeah, needless to say I had a one track mind which closely resembled...
"Schylar!"
He was sitting on the end of the guest bed, staring off at nothing with an expression that was a mixture of worry and anger. Apparently, he'd left the door open, awaiting our arrival back. He wasn't supposed to be there, I was guessing, since the look on Kells's face was disapproving.
But before anything could be said, Schylar was up off the bed and hugging me so tightly I thought my ribs would break through to my lungs.
"Schy, you're going to puncture a lung."
He didn't end the hug, just lessened it a little so I could breathe.
"I was so worried. They wouldn't tell me where you disappeared to. Your uncle said..."
"You shouldn't be up here," Kells said. "You were supposed to be waiting downstairs."
Schylar, like the overprotective big brother he wasn't, released me only to push me behind him. "Who are you?" His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Haven't I seen you some place before?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Crap."
"What are you doing up here?" We all looked over and found my uncle and my father standing in the doorway. "I told you to stay downstairs."
"You weren't supposed to be in here."
"Who are you?"
"Schy..."
"Why did you come out of the closet? Nat hates closets." Schylar's eyes narrowed in an accusatory manner. "Did you..."
"NO! Schy, stop! You're asking too many questions."
"What? Nat..."
"Schy." I stared at him, hoping he got the message to shut up. "Let it go."
The room remained quiet for a few heartbeats before he nodded. It wasn't a complacent nod, it was more of a sharp jerk of the head. He was still angry, and more than likely he'd pull me aside later and demand an explanation. Hopefully, when that time came, I would have something to tell him. It's not like I could say it was a magical closet. Because that was the truth and I wasn't allowed to tell the truth. That's when I started to worry that this Elite thing would turn me into a liar. I wasn't completely comfortable with that.
When I glanced back at the closet, the image of my room back at Agora was gone and the dark depths of the actual closet remained.
Maybe I could come up with something completely ridiculous that he would just get the picture that I wasn't spilling. It would take a lot though, considering I always told him everything.
"Tales."
I looked away from Schylar and at my father, getting my first real second to take in his appearance. He looked tired beyond his years but when my gaze locked with his, a smile bloomed across his face. Schylar let me go and I walked over to give him a hug, knowing he needed it in order to accept everything was going to be ok. At least as far as he knew.
"You ok?" he whispered into the top of my head.
I nodded and hugged him a little tighter. "Yeah. For now, I'm good."
He held me out at arm's length after we were done with the hugging and he looked over the now colored lines on my face. He frowned at them a little and even went as far as rubbing his thumb across the one on my chin. He used to do that when I was little after I came in from a long day of playing with Cecil.
"It's not dirt, Dad."
He chuckled, the sound a little nervous. "That's going to take a little getting used to."
"It won't be that hard," my uncle said rather confidently. "You got used to mine pretty quickly. In fact, I'm sure you asked me if I'd colored over my black ones with magic marker. Come here, Natty. Give your uncle some love."
Normally he wasn't this...affectionate I guess you could say. When we were out and around other people, my uncle had to maintain the persona of the office he held. But when it was just me, him, and my dad, or just me and him, he always let out his goofy side. It reminded me a lot of my dad and always made me smile. So I was more than happy to step out of my father's arms only to be folded into my uncle's. His hugs were a lot like Schylar's. He just didn't know when to let go most of the time so you had to tell him.
"I'm fine," I said hoping that would be the trigger for him.
"I know. Always knew you would be. You have the strong Abernathy genes. Those suckers will never let you down."
"Sure about that?" Kells muttered.
My uncle looked at him over my head and I turned a little to glance at him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" my uncle asked.
"Oh, you know." Kells crossed his arms over his chest. "Natalie isn't the only Abernathy who should've been Elite."
"I'm assuming you're talking about Teddy again?"
My uncle was the only one who got away with calling my father Teddy. Many people may call him that when he wasn't around but my uncle was the only one allowed to say it to his face. As the story goes, their mother, my grandmother, used to call him that when he was younger. That was what he went by for the longest time and only changed it after he deemed the name embarrassing. Unfortunately, certain members of the family weren't as willing to shed the name and continued calling him by it. When my grandmother died, I thought Uncle Clay would stop using it but he didn't. He said it was a term of endearment and my gamma would never forgive him if he stopped calling his younger brother by the name she'd given him.
"I'm perfectly fine the way I am," my father said. He pulled me back to his side, still looking Kells over. "And who might you be?"
He was playing uninformed again. How nice.
Kells extended a hand in his direction, a polite smile on his face. "I'm Kells. I'm sure Clay's mentioned..."
"I'd like to hear it from you," my father said, deciding not to shake his hand. "Certainly a grown man has other things to do than babysit..."
"Your daughter is an exception. She turned late and still might need some help adjusting."
My father narrowed his eyes at him. "And you are supposed to be a good choice? Why not..."
"Dad." I patted his arm so I had his attention. "It's fine. Kells is a good guy. I promise."
My father glanced from one of us to the other, even taking a second to look at his brother. Thankfully, Uncle Clay nodded in confirmation to my words and my father relaxed just a tad. He looked back at Kells, a stern look on his face.
"If they trust you, then I'll allow it. For now. However, if you try anything..."
"Kells will behave," my uncle said. "He knows better than to do anything else."
Without acknowledging him further, my father turned his full attention to me, smiling.
"Hungry?"
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Maybe."
"Maybe? Really?"
"Just a little."
He nodded, his brow done up in a mock frown. "Well, if you're just a little hungry, I'm sure Schylar would be more than happy to consume your portion of chocolate chip pancakes downstairs from..."
"I'm hungry!" I bounced on my feet. "I swear!"
"Thought so. Let's get to it then. I'm sure you don't want them to get cold."
When we were all settled around the kitchen table, my father forked pancakes onto my plate and then set the box very carefully in the center of the table. My uncle and Schylar were waiting for him to tell them go before they dug in. It was polite apparently. To me it made them look like puppy dogs who were being trained.
My father sat down in his chair and forced everyone to watch me pour syrup over top of the three high stack. He was torturing them for some reason.
"Daddy—"
"Ok go."
It was like a freaking feeding frenzy but the whole thing brought a smile to my face. Especially when my uncle and Schylar started fighting over the last pancake. Kells was just sitting there, watching the whole thing with a bemused smirk on his face. There wasn't a thing on his plate and for the first time it made me wonder what it was he ate exactly. I knew he ate since he'd eaten grapes in the projection room but at the moment he didn't appear very hungry.
"You ok?" I whispered to him since he was sitting next to me.
He looked at me and smiled. "I'm fine. Just not hungry."
"Was it their pig like behavior that turned you off?"
It was a joke and thankfully he got it. "No. I ate already. But thank you for your concern." He patted me on the knee since I had one drawn up to my chest. "You should eat though. I'm pretty sure I heard your stomach grumbling earlier."
"And everyone knows that is not attractive," Schylar put in.
I looked over at him and glared. "Like seeing syrup drip down your chin right now is hot?"
His hand quickly flew up and wiped at his chin, smearing the syrup across his skin and fingers.
"Schy," my father chuckled and tossed him a napkin. "Don't be rude."
"What?" he mumbled around a forkful of pancakes. "There's no one here to impress."
"You know I can arrest you for being impolite?" my uncle said.
"What?" Schylar said perking up a bit. "How...why? When did this happen?"
"It's been in the law books since 1843. If someone is rude or impolite on a Saturday morning between the hours of sunrise to sunset, then I have the lawful right to arrest them." My uncle forked pancakes into his mouth and stared at Schylar.
He was sitting in his seat, his mouth open in wonder. "Really?"
My uncle nodded and swallowed. "So I advise you to apologize to the lady and eat properly. Use the manners your mother taught you."
I couldn't help but chuckle. Schylar quickly looked at me, mumbled an apology, and went back to eating. My father was smirking behind his milk glass and Kells looked gleeful. Saturday mornings at my house were interesting. All I needed now was the rest of my friends to show up but more than likely I wouldn't see then until tonight. Most of them were helping out at the country club to get things set up.
"Are you done?" my father asked, breaking into my thoughts on my friends.
"Yes. They were very yummy."
He smiled and stood up, coming around the table to grab my plate. "Drink your milk."
I rolled my eyes and picked up my pretty much full glass. Milk was most definitely not my favorite beverage. But I knew, if I didn't drink it, he wouldn't let me up from my seat. So I sat there, trying to finish my drink without grimacing when a cupcake on a plate was placed down in front of me, one of those star candles burning for all it was worth.
For a split second it made me wonder about the one Cecil brought me this morning but it was all pushed out of my mind as my father crouched down next to me and grinned.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart."
I grinned back at him, knowing full well what he was doing. It was an old tradition my parents started. My dad would be the first one to tell me happy birthday and my mother, while tucking me in, would be the last. Of course, after she died, he had to do both. Sometimes my uncle would call around bedtime so he would be the last but that only happened on the hard years. The years when both myself and my father were having a more difficult of a time than usual.
"Thanks, Daddy."
He gave me a brief hug and then took the lead in singing the birthday song. Like most kids, it was embarrassing. And it got even worse when Schylar tossed confetti at me out of a paper bag.
When they were done, I was supposed to blow out the candle and normally thinking of a wish wasn't a problem. It was always the same. But this year, with that wish being granted earlier that morning, I had to come up with something else.
So I squeezed my eyes closed and wished for the first thing that popped into my head. The thought made me smile just a little as I opened my eyes and blew out the candle.
With my hopes that this year would be different, even though it sorta already was, I set off for the rest of my day.
Although, not before taking a bite of my cupcake and then smashing the rest into Schylar's face...
Just like last year.