Page 18 of Shelter
Fencing would be a breeze. Mr. Gerard never asked me personal questions. And maybe I could skip swim practice this weekend.
“It looks bad,” Elise said, peering over my shoulder to stare at my reflection.
I shook my head. “It’s not bad.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve got a fat lip,” she said.
I coughed to keep from laughing. “Yeah, thanks, Elise. I hadn’t noticed.”
She smacked her sopping rag against the counter and glowered at me. “Well, you don’t have to be so sassy. I could have left you with a bloody shirt, remember?”
I rolled my eyes, even though I was grateful. “Thank you,” I said in a baby voice, tossing my head left and right. Mocking her.
Elise crossed her arms over her chest, still scowling. “That’s not a nice way to say thank you, and you know it.”
I shrugged. “I’m not the one who thinks I’m a good person.” I met her scowl with a look of boredom. I was grateful, but now that I knew how to remove my own bloodstains, I wouldn’t need her to do it for me, and I wouldn’t need to see the look of pity in her face. For Christ’s sake, she was a fifth grader! And she was my housekeeper’s kid. I should feel sorry forher, not the other way around.
She shook her head, eyeing me with disgust.“No onethinks you’re a good person, Cole Whitehurst.” Then she turned and flounced out of the bathroom.
She actually flounced, her dark ponytail swishing behind her. I followed her into her room.
“Should I go out the front door?” I whispered. We’d gotten this far without being caught. No need to screw that up now.
Without saying a word, Elise just jabbed a finger at her window.
“Out the window?” I asked, thinking of the barberry bushes that were planted on that side of the guesthouse. They had two-inch thorns.
“Uh, yeah,” she hissed with sarcasm. “Mama’s watching TV in the living room. Can’t you hear?”
Now that she’d mentioned it, I could hear the muted sound of theme music. It sounded like she was watchingER.
Instead of responding, I crossed her room, pushed the drapes aside, and unlocked the window. I expected Elise to just watch me go, but as soon as I got the window open, she ran up to me.
“Will you be able to get into your house? Mama probably locked up.” A look of concern pulled her brows together. Concern was almost as bad as pity.
“I’m smart enough to get into my house even with all the doors locked,” I bit out — but quietly. I still didn’t want Flora to hear.
Elise looked away and flicked her hand up and down. “Fine. What do I care?”
“Let’s keep it that way,”I wanted to say. Instead, I hooked my fingers under the latches of her window screen and popped them open. Then I pushed the bottom of the screen out until it pressed against the stupid barberry bushes. The stiff limbs of the bush rustled in protest when I shoved harder, so I stopped, afraid Flora would hear me.
And as soon as I stepped past the protection of the screen, thorns dug into my pants, one snaking up beyond the cuff and swiping my shin. I bit back a curse at this and waded through a few more spiky assaults until I reached the pavement.
Turning back to the window, I found Elise watching and snickering quietly. To my surprise, I could take her laughing at me easier than her pitying me. But she didn’t need to know that.
“Go to sleep, little girl. It’s past your bedtime,” I said just loud enough for her to hear me.
Her snicker turned into a snarl, and she shut the window and closed the drapes.
I made my way around the side of the house and tried the door we’d used to sneak out, but, just as Elise had predicted, Flora had locked it. I knew the front door was locked.Hehad locked it before questioning me about where I’d been.
As if I’d try to run away.
I hadn’t tried to run from my father since I was six years old. What was the point? Back then, I certainly wouldn’t have been able to outrun him. Make it to the door… call for help… No. I might be able to outrun him now. He was forty-one years old, and his only exercise was golf. Because of swimming, running almost never left me winded. I might be able to leave him in the dust.
Maybe he’d even have a heart attack.
I let that fantasy go before it could start. Thinking like that only frustrated me.
