“You’ll need to increase his space by at least an extra five feet in all dimensions,” Farren inputs. Rohan’s mouth falls open, demonstrating how difficult a task that is to complete in only hours.
“Fail to amend Hort’s measurements and quarters and I’ll have to report you to the racing committee,” Dr. Walsh finishes. “Test me, and we’ll see who loses their license first.”
“Rules are in place for the good of society,” I add, knowing in this moment we’ve won.
My father’s face goes red as he stares me down. “What have you done?”
Dr. Walsh steps forward again. “Nothing illegal, I assure you. You know as well as I that some children just outgrow their parents.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWOWHEN THERE’S A CONFESSION
FARREN
The car ride back isn’t as awkward, but shock and relief create a different kind of stillness. My father doesn’t want to dress us down, what with James’s face bleeding and bruised and me… me feeling like I’m going to explode in an emotional heap. Instead, he waits until we rumble into the driveway. “Let’s get Hort settled and then I think another family meeting is in order.”
Mom flitters onto the porch, curious about our day no doubt. Even more so, I imagine, when she zeroes in on the right side of James’s face. Her own face falls, and she jumps into a jog toward us. “What in the world happened? James.” She reaches forward toward his jaw before retreating. “Did a dragon…?”
James freezes, but Dad cuts through the hesitation with a tight and angry “John.”
When Mom only shakes her head, sharing that anger without a hint of surprise, realization hits. I was the last to figure it out. My parents took James in not because of social standings, but to protect him, to care for him like they care for all creatures. Mom must decide not to hold back, becausea second later she’s hugging James. He flinches at the affection before slowly hugging my mom back.
My heart clenches. I turn to help my father with Hort, anything to avoid confronting this overwhelming guilt. There’s not a single person I care about who I didn’t hurt today. My parents, my dragons, James. And his own mom, who thought we could keep him safe. Who hugged me like my mother is hugging James.This will be good. So good, that’s what she’d told me.
A year ago, when I found out about Nity, when her very presence dictated my every move, I came close to failing a History paper. My parents never had to reprimand me, though, because the guilt of it chewed through me like I was mere tissue paper. At times like this I try to calm down and forgive myself, but this guilt builds like steam trying to escape a kettle, my whole body a vibrating whistle no one can hear. But sometimes I feel like screaming just so someone can help. Today is like a hundred failed History papers all at once.
Dad rubs my back, and I suck in a breath. “You’re okay. Everything is okay,” my dad whispers. “We’re going to talk about it. Make a plan together.”
I nod before hurrying along to free Hort of his trailer confines and pretend bandaging. Fake wrappings fall away, and he whooshes into the sunlight like he’s flinging himself onto the cozy comfort of home.
When we enter the living room, a small bag of ice is pressed to the right side of James’s face. Another twinge of guilt squeezes around my ribs.
We nestle into the same chairs and couch formation we did last time we had a family meeting. James and I on opposite sides of the room, with my parents pressed into the couch between us.
“Farren, you need to catch your mother up,” Dad says calmly, fingers laced in front of him.
I nod, knowing I’d have to rehash the last few hours of horror. Suspicions turned to tests turned to James’s lies and the violence and accusations thereafter.
In the car Dad tried to reassure us, repeating “It’s going to be all right” and “I won’t let anything bad happen.” But I’ve been waiting on Mom tounleash the truth, talk through the strategy of how bad it can get. Because my father is the calm optimist and my mother balances him out with a whopping heap of realism. And I’m counting on that slice of reality. If we solve this, maybe I can breathe evenly again.
Yet, I don’t expect what she says next. “Thank you for helping Farren, James. That was a smart lie.” Her eyes slide to mine. “Well thought out.”
James’s head snaps upward. “Ah, you’re welcome.”
She glances between us. “There’s more isn’t there? Something you’re not telling us.” The quiet stretches. “You two are dating, aren’t you?” Mom says softly like she’s worried she’s going to scare one of us into lying again.
I wish James and I could have consulted before being forced into this conversation. Half the deal was to make sure he could stay here. His parent’s one rule is still technically there, especially since Mr. Murphy was storming mad at the very idea James could be kind to me, let alone date me.
I don’t know what to say now. Do I need to dramatically act out distaste again? Or should the truth finally fly free?
“No, we aren’t dating, but I want to,” James says simply. Like it’s a fact so understood there need not be any surprised reaction, like it should have been known long before the question was drawn up.
He wants to date me.
I swivel to hide my face.This shouldn’t be a surprise to you either, I yell at myself. You kissed. But my pulse ramps up at his announcement. With eight words he’s crumpled our deal into dust.
“Farren?” Mom eyes me, willing me to lie.
This is not how I imagined being asked out for the first time.“I want to as well,” I whisper.
