Chapter Thirteen
Ashovel was wedged through the door handles of the shed. I pulled it out and opened the doors. From the darkness inside, Amir blinked up at me.
I rushed to him as he stood and brushed the dirt from his jeans. “I’m fine,” he said. He sounded hoarse but didn’t appear injured.
I hugged him. If Will smelled like nothing, Amir smelled of everything—the earth, the sea, everything I loved.
“I’m so sorry.” I whispered the words into his neck. I felt acutely aware of how my body fit against his, the soft movement of his breath at my temple. All I had to do was lift my chin and my lips would find his. His hand moved over my hair. When his thumb grazed my earlobe a thousand sparks of light danced across my closed eyes.
Disgusting.Bear’s voice tore through my thoughts. I shifted away from Amir, shame burning in my chest.
There was a crashing sound and then a jumbled shout from the direction of the cottage. My body went stiff with fear, but amoment later the unmistakable sound of the screen door slamming told me that Bear had gone into the cottage for the night.
My heartbeat steadied. “You sent the stone with Doctor Clark,” I said, looking up at Amir. “I thought it meant you were okay.”
“Bear locked me in here after the doctor left.” His eyes darkened and skidded away from mine. For a moment, fury transformed his face. At his temple, his pulse skittered. I ached for him, for the fear and isolation and sense of powerlessness he must have experienced while I was gone. A violent storm spun behind his eyes.
“Amir.” Worry choked my voice.
He looked down at the hand I’d placed on his arm and released a long, ragged breath. When his eyes found mine again, his gaze had softened. He shook his head as though clearing away whatever vengeful thoughts had run through his mind.
“It’s you I’ve been worried about,” he said. “How’s your leg? The doctor said it was infected.”
“It’s better now. I should have come earlier. You must be hungry.” I thought about the meals I’d had with the Langfords. Why hadn’t I thought to bring something home for Amir?
He gave me a sideways smile and sunk a hand into the pocket of his sweatshirt, pulling out the end of a Dutch Crunch roll.
I laughed. “You took it from the Langfords’?”
His eyes glinted with mischief. He bit into the roll and shrugged. “I did what was expected of me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You saw how they looked at me. They thought I was a thief.”
“They thought we wereboththieves. Their dog had just attacked me for jumping over the wall.”
“Yes, but they forgave you almost immediately.”
I understood what he meant. He thought the Langfords were racist. The possibility had occurred to me, too, while we’d sat together in their den. I’d wondered how differently they would have treated Amir if he had been the one whom Tiger had bitten instead of me. Would Will have insisted he come inside? Would Rosalie have bandaged his leg?
“They ended up being nice,” I said quietly. “Rosalie surprised me. She was generous.”
Amir reached out and rubbed the cuff of my new, soft sweater between his fingers. “I think,” he said, “that her generosity extends to smart blond orphans and ends there.”
I had no basis to disagree, but still the urge to defend Rosalie sprang within me. She’d told me that I reminded her of herself. Was it so awful to feel a connection to the familiar?
“Maybe,” I said, “it’s easier for some people to have sympathy for people who look like them, whose lives they can imagine more easily.”
“Why would she be able to imagine your life any better than mine? Because you have the same skin color?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Or maybe because I’m a girl. I think I make her think of her own childhood.” I thought for a moment. “If she’d had time to get to know you, it would have been different. With a little time, I think you would have felt differently about each other.”
“You wantmeto forgiveherfor looking at me the way shedid.” I felt Amir’s gaze travel through me, below my skin, through my veins, quickening the pace of my heart. “You thinkIshould have empathy for her... because it’s too much work for her to feel sympathy for a boy with brown skin.” He shook his head. “That’s bullshit, Merrow. People like that need to try harder. It’s on them. Not me.”
Amir was angry, but I had always seen his anger as the way he expressed feeling hurt. He had been treated as though he were less than whole by so many people—by the head of the orphanage, by his adoptive mother’s father, by Bear, and now by Rosalie Langford. I felt sick with remorse. Why hadn’t I understood how insulted he had been by the Langfords? I had meant to always be there for him, to stand up for him in the way that he had always stood up for me, and I had failed him.
“You’re right.” I put my hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
