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Simon's father, Christopher Bae, appears to have taken de facto custody of DS, with no record of a formal adoption or fostering arrangement. The boys were enrolled in school as “Simon Kim” and “Derek Brown. ” The reason for the false names is not known.
School records suggest DS's behavioral problems began in seventh grade. Never an outgoing or cheerful child, he became increasingly sullen, his withdrawal punctuated by bouts of misplaced anger, often culminating in violent outbursts.
Violent outbursts…
The bruises on my arms throbbed and I absently rubbed them, wincing.
No incidents have been properly documented, making a complete forensic study of the disorder's progression impossible. DS seems to have avoided expulsion or other serious disciplinary action until an altercation described by witnesses as “a normal school yard fight. ” DS violently attacked three youths in what officers suspected was a chemically fueled rage. An adrenaline surge may also explain the display of extraordinary strength reported by witnesses. By the time authorities interceded, one youth had suffered spinal fractures. Medical experts fear he may never walk again.
The single-?spaced page of background detail continued, but the words vanished, and all I could see was the floor whipping past as Derek flung me across the laundry room.
Extraordinary strength…
Violent outbursts…
May never walk again…
They'd taken Liz away for throwing pencils and hair gel bottles, and they kept Derek? A huge guy with a history of violent rages? With a disorder that meant he didn't care who he hurt or how badly?
Why hadn't someone warned me?
Why wasn't he locked up?
I shoved the pages under my mattress. I didn't need to read the rest. I knew what it would say. That he was being medicated. That he was being rehabilitated. That he was cooperating and had shown no signs of violence while at Lyle House. That his condition was under control.
I shone the flashlight on my arm. The finger marks were turning purple.
Sixteen
EVERY TIME I DRIFTED off, I'd get stuck in that weird place between sleep and waking, where my mind sifted through the memories of the day, confusing them and twisting them. I'd be back in the basement, Derek grabbing my arm and throwing me across the room. Then I'd wake up in a hospital, with Mrs. Talbot at my side, telling me I'd never walk again.
When the wake-?up rap came at the door, I buried my head under my pillow.
“Chloe?” Mrs. Talbot opened the door. “You need to get dressed before you come down today. ”
My stomach seized. With Liz and Peter gone, had they decided we should all eat breakfast together? I couldn't face Derek. I just couldn't.
“Your aunt is coming by at eight to take you out to breakfast. You need to be ready for her. ”
I released my death grip on the pillow and got up.
* * *
“You're mad at me, aren't you, Chloe?”
I stopped moving my scrambled eggs around my plate and looked up. Worry clouded Aunt Lauren's face. Dark half-?moons under each eye said she hadn't been getting enough sleep. I'd missed those smudges earlier, hidden under her makeup until we got under the fluorescent lights of Denny's.
“Mad about what?” I asked.
A short laugh. “Well, I don't know. Maybe because I dumped you in a group home with strangers and disappeared. ”
I set down my fork. “You didn't 'dump' me. The school insisted I go there and the home insisted you and Dad stay away while I adjusted. I'm not a little kid. I understand what's going on. ”
She exhaled, the sound loud enough to be heard over the roar of the busy restaurant.
“I have a problem,” I continued. “I have to learn to deal with it, and it isn't your fault or Dad's. ”
She leaned forward. “It isn't yours either. You understand that, too, right? It's a medical condition. You didn't do anything to cause it. ”
“I know. ” I nibbled my toast.
“You're being very mature about this, Chloe. I'm proud of you. ”
I nodded and kept nibbling. Seeds from the raspberry jam crackled between my teeth.
“Oh, and I have something for you. ” She reached into her purse and pulled out a sandwich bag. Inside was my ruby necklace. “The nurses called from the home and told me you were missing it. Your dad forgot to take it from the hospital when you left. "
I took it, fingering the familiar pendant through the plastic, then passed it back. “You'll have to keep it for me. I'm not allowed to have jewelry at the home. ”
“Don't worry, I've already spoken to the nurses. I told them it was important to you, and they've agreed to let you have it. ”
“Thanks. ”
“Make sure you wear it, though. We don't want it going missing again. ”
I took the necklace out of the bag and put it on. I knew it was a silly superstition, but it did make me feel better. Reassured, I guess. A reminder of Mom and something I'd been wearing so many years that I'd felt a little odd without it.
“I can't believe your father left it at the hospital,” she said, shaking her head. “God only knows when he would have remembered, now that he's jetted off again. ”
Yes, my dad was gone. He'd called me on Aunt Lauren's cell phone to explain that he'd had to leave for Shanghai last night on an emergency business trip. She was furious with him, but I couldn't see how it mattered when I was living at the group home. He'd already arranged to take a month off when I got out, and I'd rather he was around then.
My aunt talked about her plan for a “girls' New York trip” when I was released. I didn't have the heart to tell her I'd rather just go home, see Dad, hang with my friends. Getting back to my normal life would be the best post-?Lyle House celebration I could imagine.
My normal life…
I thought of the ghosts. Would my life ever be normal again? Would I ever be normal again?
My gaze tripped over the landscape of faces. Was anyone here a ghost? How would I know?
What about that guy in the back wearing a heavy metal shirt, looking like he'd just stepped off the set of VH1's I Love the 80s? Or the old woman with long gray hair and a tie-?dyed shirt? Or even the guy in a suit, waiting by the door? Unless someone smacked into them, how did I know they weren't ghosts, just waiting for me to notice them?
I lowered my gaze to my orange juice.
Oh, there's a plan, Chloe. Spend the rest of your life avoiding eye contact.
“So how are you adjusting? Getting along with the other kids?”
Her words were a slap, reminding me I had bigger problems than ghosts.
