The Wicked Trilogy by S. Massery
Caleb
I watchher when she thinks I’m not.
Or maybe she feels my gaze and is an expert in ignoring me. Fuck if I know.
We loaded up into the car and drove in silence. I sprawled across the backseat, my eyes on the back of her neck, and turn over all the revelations.
One: she knows what she witnessed.
Mother insisted Margo made it up, but I figured it was a little too far-fetched for a ten-year-old to create. So I held on to the belief that Margo saw Dad fucking her mom, and let my own mother live in the fantasy world she created.
Without that truth—that Dad had cheated—her whole world stayed intact.
Two: Matt Bonner kidnapped her.
It doesn’t make sense. He didn’t even know her until the first football game I took Margo to, and by that point, Margo had already been receiving texts for a while.
I long to reach forward and touch her, to move the hair off her neck and kiss down her shoulder. To chase away the shadows in her eyes.
Margo Wolfe has her own demons now.
I know all about them.
We get back, and I take the bag out of the trunk. She follows Eli’s dad slowly, like the house is going to suddenly realize she’s intruding and catapult her out. We go up the stairs, down the hall. The room on the end, across from the bathroom, is all hers.
Mrs. Black is a good decorator. Normally the room is a bit cold and formal—more like an adult’s guest room than anything else—but in the short time she had, she’s transformed it.
There’s a fuzzy, hot-pink pillow in the center of the bed. The comforter and throw pillows, which used to be all white, have been replaced with a floral print. Muted colors, but color nonetheless.
A desk in the corner has a vase of flowers.
The curtains are thrown open wide, letting in a stream of light.
I put the bag down on the desk chair.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Mr. Black says. “I have to go make a few phone calls. Norah is picking up some groceries, but she should be home soon.”
I eye him. There’s no way he didn’t see this coming.
He leaves, and then it’s just us.
My phone has been steadily blowing up in the last hour, but I’ve ignored it. Now, I pull it out and scroll through the messages. Half of them are from Riley.
“Do you have your phone?” I ask.
Margo lies on the bed, her dark hair fanning across the pink pillow. “They took it, I think. Or I lost it in the accident.”
I frown. “You haven’t been able to contact… anyone you wanted?”
She shrugs. “Riley came by the hospital, but she wasn’t allowed to stay. They were going to come over. I assume Lenora took care of that.
I hand her my phone.
While half are from Riley, the other half are random people from school asking if Margo is okay. My lacrosse team, some of the nicer cheerleaders…
“I notice Amelie and Savannah don’t give a shit,” she mumbles.
She types out a text, then sets the phone down. “Matt had an alibi.”
I squint. “What?”
“What if I’m misremembering everything? Like my brain just put in a person who didn’t really make sense—”
“You don’t trust yourself?”
“How could I?” She stares up at the ceiling. “I forgot that my own mother cheated on Dad with yours.”
“It was traumatic,” I say. “For us, yes, but… I wasn’t allowed to forget.”
She sits up. Her head tilts. “What do you mean?”
I could give her this. A little bit of my side.
“After Dad died, Mom couldn’t stand to be in the house. She was self-destructing.”
“Not as bad as mine,” she whispers.
I crack a smile. “No, Mother didn’t turn to drugs. But she did think she couldn’t parent me anymore, so she carted me off to my aunt and uncle’s house.”
Margo freezes. “No.”
“Uncle David is Dad’s brother. He was… not happy. And all I wanted was to get you back.” I sit beside her. “He was the one who did his best to turn me against you. And I hate to say that he was successful, but he was. It was easy to blame you for everything that happened.”
She bites her lip.
Everything is so fucking fragile right now.
“I’ll let you sleep,” I eventually say. I don’t know how to talk to her. What to do to make it better.
I’ll figure it out, though.
She lets me go. I half expect her to call me back, but she doesn’t.
And all of a sudden, energy burns through me. It twitches my limbs. Fuck Matt and his alibi, and whoever else was with him. I bang on Eli’s door, shoving it open without waiting for an answer.
He’s at his desk, chewing on the end of a pen.
“Homework?” I ask.
“Yeah. How’s Margo?”
“I don’t know. I need to get out of here.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, I could use some exercise.”
We both change into running gear and meet at the front door.
“A mile?” he suggests.
I roll my eyes. “Five.”
“You’re trying to kill me right out of the gate, huh?”
“First one back gets—”
Eli takes off before I finish. A laugh bursts out of me. This is what I need—to come home exhausted, to pretend Margo isn’t upstairs. She’s safe here, but she’s not safe with me.
I need to remember that.
I chase after Eli.
