“But to what end?” I ask. “What would he even be getting out of it? Other than lots of extra mouths to help feed.”
“Hebarelyhelps feed us. I mean, he hunts, I guess. But we also steal for him. And then he made you burn down the grocery store of someone you say wanted to help. Clearly Sol couldn’t let you accept help from anyone but him.”
I open my mouth to argue, but there are no words. I have nothing to counter her point. And that realization is terrifying.
Rose sighs. “I don’t know what he gets out of it. Adoration? The feeling of control? A group of girls at his beck and call who will do whatever he asks? I don’t know, I just know that he makes me uncomfortable. He always kind of has. I tried to overlook it, because all the girls trust him, but I never got past it. And now I know he’s literally a wanted criminal hiding out in the woods. Is this really who we want to take orders from? I don’t.”
“So … why did you come back?”
“I didn’t want to,” she whispers. “I wanted to keep running. I want away fromhim. Not that I have anywhere else to go.” She turns her head to look at me, and I can see the lines of sadness and worry across those lovely fairy tale princess features. I want so badly to kiss those fears away. To rewind to a few minutes ago, to the kiss, and freeze us right there forever. But I am aching too much, too hurt by her confession to move or speak. She must be able to see my pain, because her hand reaches for mine then. “But, Iris, I came back because I didn’t want to leave you.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” I say. “This is my home. I’m staying.” But even as I say it, I feel myself faltering.
Because if I fail my trials or if Sol finds out I betrayed him, I won’t be allowed to stay. And even if everything works out forme, Rose has just confirmed so much of what Lily and Violet said about her. She’s been resistant to Sol this whole time.
Maybe she is a weed.
Maybe she is destined to end up like Marigold.
“We should go to sleep,” I say. “It’s late.”
“Yeah,” Rose agrees. “Fine, but … Iris, just think about what I said. He’s lying to us. We don’t have to do what he says. We could run. You and me—and maybe we could talk Zinnia and Poppy into coming, too. I’m guessing it’s too late for Lily and Violet, but—”
“Stop. Please. I can’t right now,” I say. What she’s proposing is impossible. We have no money, no resources. We’d be picked up and taken back to bad homes or put in foster care within days. Poppy and Zinnia might be split up. We’dallbe split up. It would be awful. Sol is safer.
Then I think about the fire and the unnerving way Violet and Lily spoke about Marigold and Lily’s anxiety around the shed.
How safe are we?
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “But for now, let’s just sleep.”
“Fine,” Rose says. “We’ll talk about it another time.”
“Yeah.”
“Good night, Iris.”
“’Night.”
ButI don’t go to sleep. I lie on my mattress, staring at the wooden beams on the ceiling, with a million thoughts circling in my head. I relive the high of that kiss and the low of Rose admitting she doesn’t trust Sol.
I feel sick and scared and confused. My head aches. My stomach hurts. I’ve broken promises and broken rules, and I’m terrified of the consequences of any direction I could take from here.
After an hour or so, when Rose has fallen asleep, I get up and step over her mattress, creeping toward the attic door.
There’s only one thing that will make me feel better. There’s only one person who has given me a safe space to talk about my feelings and the mistakes of my past. For the past year, I’ve been able to go to him, spill my secrets, and let him show me how to clean up the mess they’ve left.
I make my way down the stairs and walk down the dark hallway. I’ve never knocked on this door in the middle of the night before, but I don’t think I can wait. I don’t think I can take the pain of this uncertainty and dread for a second longer.
It’s a moment before the door opens. Sol’s hair is tousled, his eyes bleary from sleep. “Iris?” he asks. “What’s going on, sweetheart? You should be asleep.”
“I need to tell you something.”
IRIS
Itell Sol everything. Once I start, it all pours out in a flood: my guilt about the fire, telling Rose about the trials, lying to him about where she’d gone, the kiss. I confess every sin in a babbling stream, and Sol lets me. He doesn’t speak until I’m done.
I don’t tell him about what Rose stole from his room or her feelings about not trusting him. That’s her secret, not mine. As much as those things weigh on me, I know it wouldn’t be right to expose her like that.
