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Xander pushed hair out of his face. God, he lookedso mucholder. It kept slamming against me.
So I just asked about our mom. “Do you know why I can’t see her?”
“We can’t either,” Xander said.
“She’s only letting Dad, plus aunts and uncles,” Kinney explained. “We overheard them talking. I think she doesn’t want to scare us.”
“Why would she…?” I trailed off, seeing Xander’s tortured expression and downturned gaze.
“She got beat up,” Kinney snapped, incensed, and she glared back at Donnelly likedo something.
“Kinney,” Farrow warned from Donnelly’s corner. To which, he had to clarify to me, “Donnelly wasn’t involved with Lily’s assault.”
Kinney was about to retort, but Xander cut in, “We can’t, Kin. Don’t overwhelm Luna.”
Our mom got beat up.
Assault.
I imagined her face puffed. Eyes black-and-blue and swollen shut. Legs and arms in casts. My stomach lurched, and I sincerely hoped my overactive imagination painted a worse picture than reality.
She’ll be okay.
It’s not as bad as you think.
Farrow gave me those reassurances when I asked him after my siblings left. Still, it made total sense why she wouldn’t want many visitors. I feared having the real picture superglued to my brain, and she was saving us from that image.
As the elevator ascends towards the unknown, my good thoughts are more of a mixed bag, and anxiety still bears on me.
Moffy sees. “You okay?”
Great, now my memory guide is overly concerned. I like it more when he’s pissed about the Time Thief in my head. Plus, I’m angry too.
“Fine.” I chew on the corner of my lip. “Just thinking about Mom.” I was released from the hospital this morning, but they wanted her to stay longer.
“She’ll be okay.” He sounds certain. “I think she’s more worried about you.”
My memories.Everyone must be freaked. Honestly, every time I say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing,Iworry Moffy is gonna think I’ve been body-snatched and a Variant Luna has entered his universe.
Or maybe that’s my fear talking. Because I’m fucking terrified that everyone will look at me and think I’m notme. And they’ll mourn the Original Luna that was put to rest when she hit her head. They’ll wish for her. Long for her.
Instead they get this subpar, mediocre copy.
My hands sweat, and I rub my palms on my jean shorts. Someone brought me clothes from home.
Home.
I don’t even know where that is. Not yet.
* * *
Numbers climbon the elevator panel. 28, 29, 30…
Each floor higher is another dollar sign. My eyes grow as the elevator slides gently to a stop at 33. “Is this the very top floor?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He leads me into a short foyer, a door staring back at us. “There’s no creative name for this place. We just call it what it is.” He already grimaces. “It’s a penthouse. And I know, I know, you’re going to think,what the fuck, Moffy? How could you ever?”
I’m already thinking it.
