“They would have done it to you,” Darla said, but Blair stood up and brushed her hands off on her skirt.
“That’s not why I did it...that’s not a good enough reason.” She bent down and picked up Frank and he struggled in her arms, clawing against her chest and her shoulders. She lifted him up to Grant and Grant reached down and grabbed Frank around the belly and then set him in the library. Frank bounced around Grant’s body and began sniffing the edges of the bookshelves.
Dean created a stepping stool out of his knee and helped both Darla and Blair to the surface. Then he jumped and grabbed the ledge, hoisting himself up onto the floor. He just rested there, his legs still hanging into the black pit, his upper body out in the library.
Blair grabbed Frank’s leash and walked up to Darla. “Teddy’s mom,” she said. “As if my day couldn’t get more heartbreaking.”
After a beat, Darla nodded. “He’s my everything. I don’t know how you know my son…but…”
Behind a bookshelf, they heard a low whisper. “You left me,” a voice cried, raspy and hoarse.
Grant froze and Blair shrieked, dropping to her knees.
Dean and Darla stared at them and then looked at each other. They began to laugh. It was a bubbling of all the pent-up tension from the last forty minutes. Darla wiped her eyes and wandered to the nonfiction aisle, and Dean joined her. A girl was splayed out making dust angels against the hardwood floor.
“We’re sorry, Ainsley...but trust us...you didn’t want any part of what just happened down there,” Dean said. He stretched out his hand and she sat up.
“Ainsley...” Grant repeated.
“Grant, right?” Ainsley asked and she extended her hand to him. He took it and shook her cold hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” she added. Grant raised his eyebrows and looked at her. She had wild frizzy hair and a large nose, and one of her front teeth protruded out in front of her other one. She wore torn jeans and there were dark circles underneath her eyes. When she noticed him staring at her, she ducked behind Darla and put her hands on her friend’s shoulders.
“He’s looking at me,” Ainsley said. “Make him stop.”
Dean nudged his son and Grant turned to Blair, unsure of what to make of the girl with the wild hair. He took a step forward. “What happens now?” he asked. “There’s no Copia?”
“There’s no Copia,” she confirmed.
“And I’m supposed to be dead.”
Blair didn’t answer.
“Blair—”
“I don’t know what to do,” she said to the group. “You’re alive and the guards are dead. And Teddy’s mom is alive and...” Blair looked like she was too overwhelmed to continue. “And I’ll have to face my father.”
“Look,” Darla said, but Blair put up her hand to stop her from continuing.
“No,” Blair spat. “Nobody talk to me. You have to let me think. You don’t understand...none of you can understand. I just saved you, but...”
Grant put a hand on her shoulder and she didn’t shove him off. They all stood watching her, realizing slowly that their entire lives rested in Blair’s hands. Frank barked and outside a strong wind blew and it rattled the roof.
“You don’t understand,” she repeated. “What happens now? Now that everything I’ve worked for and wanted is gone?” And without saying anything else or giving them any instructions, Blair tugged on Frank’s leash and stormed out of the library and onto the deserted Brixton road.
Ainsley stuck her head out and followed the line-of-sight out the door and then ducked back. “Who was that?” she asked, pointing after Blair.
“The woman who is going to take me to my son,” Darla answered, and she stuck her gun in the back of her leggings, following Blair into the bright afternoon sun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Maxine slopped a large scoop of eggs on Lucy’s plate. She kept moving down the line: some for Galen, Malcolm, Monroe, and Harper. They looked at the eggs and pushed them around on their plates; a thin layer of uncooked whites wobbled under their forks.
“Where did they come from?” Malcolm asked.
“Chickens, dummy,” Monroe answered.
“I mean...” Malcolm continued, ignoring his brother, “where did the chickens come from?”
This seemed like a valid question, so everyone turned to their mother and awaited her reply. Scott, with wild hair and several days of beard growth, crossed his arms over his chest and pushed the plate back an inch. Maxine watched his actions scornfully and turned her attention to her children.
“The East Tower has an agricultural level. They have chickens there,” Maxine said with a curt nod and raised eyebrows. “Any other questions?”
“Do they deliver them to your doorstep every day?” Monroe asked.
“Do we have to eat eggs every day?” whined Malcolm.
Lucy took a bite and felt the soft folds of the undercooked egg rest against her tongue. She swallowed quickly and reached for the salt. Galen pushed it toward her and then nabbed the pepper, and they sprinkled their mother’s meal with enough spices to hide its imperfections.
“No and no,” Maxine replied. “Eat and stop your complaining. You have fresh eggs, seasonally appropriate vegetables, and your mother just made you breakfast. Get up anytime you want and make your own damn meal if you want.”
It was just going to be one of those days. The kids exchanged wary glances and started to eat. Harper rested her fist on her chin and slid her breakfast from one end of the plate to the other. She started to mumble something, but Maxine shot her a withering look and Harper clamped her mouth shut. Even she knew it was best not to push further.
Scott stood up without touching his breakfast.
“I’m going to the track,” he announced. “Run a few laps.”
“Now?” Maxine asked, but it wasn’t a question. “When we can, we have breakfast as a family.”
Her father looked at the empty chair where Ethan should have been. He’d been up and out of the apartment before any of them woke. While he hadn’t been as brusque to Lucy (she was sure he heard about her conversation with Cass and perhaps he felt guilty for excluding her and hurting her feelings), he had not warmed up to their parents. Scott took to the behavior by withdrawing. Maxine seemed perpetually wound-up for a fight.
“Yes, now,” Scott said.
The kids held their breath.
“Sit down and eat your eggs.” Maxine pointed to his plate.
“I’ll eat them when I return.”
“Then sit down and don’t eat them,” she said.
It was a brief showdown with neither parent willing to back down. Scott’s face was expressionless, but Maxine stood there holding her spoon like a catapult. It was angled in his direction just enough to look like she was considering launching the rest of the eggs straight into his pajamas. It wouldn’t have been the first time Maxine had thrown food at them to incite proper behavior or change the current tone. Lucy didn’t know of many other mothers who used food fights to their benefit, but in many ways Mama Maxine was magical.
Once Lucy had told Salem, “She will bite your head off in love,” and it was the truest sentence she had ever said.
“What’s your deal?” Maxine asked Scott once he sat down.
Scott scratched at his chin. He looked quickly to Lucy and then back to Maxine. “It’s just a big day and I’m nervous. Copia is leaving today.”
Lucy raised her eyebrows and swallowed another bite. “Really?” she asked, smiling. “Will Grant be able to call once he gets there? When can we visit? Can I go there? That’s the best news!”