Part 31 (1/2)

And then everything goes dark.

CHAPTER 32.

I open my eyes. I'm still, but only for a second. Then everything comes rus.h.i.+ng back. Ariel. Abe. A scream bursts from my lips before I can stop it.

The door flies open, and my mom is at my side. Her arms are around me, and she pulls my head into her chest.

”Amanda, shh, it's all right. Everything is all right. You're home.”

I'm in my bed. In Vermont? They took me back to Vermont? How? When? I'm so confused. I want to yell at my mom for everything she's done, but I don't. She's warm and comfortable and everything I need in this moment. I sink into her arms. My hands slide around her waist. Her fuller, curvier waist. She's wearing a long skirt and a tank top. A little roll of flesh peeks out over the top of the skirt. Her wavy hair hangs down her back. It smells like shampoo. I feel how strong her arms are around me.

She's better. She got better. How is that possible? I don't know if I care.

I pull her closer. ”Mom, I think I had the most awful dream.”

She smooths my hair and leans down to whisper in my ear, ”It wasn't a dream, Amanda. I don't know what happened on that mission of yours, but you're never going on one like that again. This was not part of the agreement. Your father's already heard an earful from me.”

My . . . what?

I pull away from my mom and look around. I'm in a bedroom, but it's not mine in Vermont. It's not my room at Annum Hall either. There's a pale-aqua duvet on the bed and a folded pile of clean clothes in front of the closet. There's a giant b.u.t.terfly mural on one of the walls, and a window that looks out over- I gasp and rush to the window.

I'm staring at Commonwealth Avenue, at the park that runs the length of the street, splitting it north and south. I'm in a brownstone on Comm. Ave. The most expensive street in Boston.

Do I . . . live here? I look down at a small white desk under the window. There's a neon-pink picture frame set on top of it, and I s.n.a.t.c.h it up. It's a picture of me and a b.i.+.c.hon frise sitting in front of a Christmas tree. I set the picture down next to a notepad that has ”AMANDA OBERMANN” printed on top, right next to six yearbooks lined up on the desk, all with ”Phillips Andover Academy” printed on the spine. A painting hangs over the bed. It's the scene of a sailboat gliding across a blue Mediterranean.

I do. I do live here.

Ariel is dead. Alpha is alive. My dad is . . .

”Did you say my dad?” I ask as I look back at my mom. She smiles at me with her big peridot eyes.

”He was at the Hall, but he'll be home soon.”

”I . . .” I what? I don't how to end the sentence. I don't even know how to start it. How did I even get here?

She reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. My very healthy, very stable mother.

”Are you taking your meds, Mom?”

She lets out a throaty laugh. ”Like you even need to ask? I take the same combo. Every day. Just like always, baby.”

”I think I need to be alone for a little bit,” I tell her. My head is spinning. Everything is spinning. I can't focus on anything except that boat above my bed.

”Of course.” My mom drops her hand from my shoulder. She's almost out the door when she turns back to me. ”But I'm serious. No more missions like that.” And then she smiles again. ”And the law requires that you listen to me for about three and a half more months. My baby girl-almost eighteen. Crazy.”

She shuts the door. I stare at it.

What the h.e.l.l did I do?

I have a mother. I have a father. I have-I look toward my closet full of clothes and shoes, then to the Mac laptop on my desk-things. Nice things. Do I have brothers and sisters?

A phone rings, and I look toward the desk. I spot it right away. It has a turquoise case, and the screen is lit up. I grab it. Incoming call from Jess. Who is Jess? Do I answer or ignore?

I have to answer.

”h.e.l.lo?” I say.

”Dude, what happened to you today?” The voice is female, and it's familiar. ”Did the Mola.s.ses Disaster take a wrong turn or something? I mean, I knew it was going to be intense, but-”

”Hang on. Violet?”

There's a quick laugh on the other end. ”Well, I guess if you want to be all formal about it, Iris. Seriously, are you okay? You don't crack like that. Your dad's going to flip. I mean, he already has. He left here like twenty minutes ago, and I've been trying to find a sec to call and give you the heads up. You may have escaped today, but you're in for one h.e.l.l of a debriefing tomorrow.”

A debriefing. Of course. Because I arrived back in the present completely confused and asking about someone who's been dead for like fifty years. I sink down onto my bed. Alpha's smart. I have to imagine my dad is, too. They know something is up.

”Amanda.”

”Yeah?”

”You haven't answered my question. Are you okay? I'm worried about you.”