Free Promises I Made by Michelle Zink Page B

tea?”
    â€œSure.”
    She poured us each a glass and set mine down in front of me. Then she leaned against the counter and folded her arms over her chest. I knew body language—I’d studied it as part of our many cons—but Selena’s would have been readable even by an amateur. It screamed defensiveness, a big flashing sign that read STAY AWAY.
    Silence sat heavy between us. Finally I said the only thing I could say.
    â€œI’m sorry to come here.”
    She studied me for a minute. “You’ve got balls. I’ll give you that.”
    I shook my head. “It’s not like that.”
    She shrugged. “What do you want me to say, Grace?”
    I looked down at the table and blinked back the tears that sprang to my eyes. “Nothing. I just . . . well, first I want to say I’m sorry.”
    â€œThat’s it? You’re sorry?”
    â€œI don’t know what else to say. What we did was fucked up, and I’m not making excuses, but—”
    â€œBut now you’re going to make excuses,” she said.
    â€œIt’s . . . more complicated than it seems.”
    She took a drink of her tea and set the glass down a little too hard on the counter. “Did you or did you not lie to us—to me —about who you were, about why you were here?”
    â€œI did,” I said softly. It was true, but I still hated admitting it out loud.
    â€œDid you use what you learned from hanging out with us to steal from Logan’s family?”
    I looked into her eye. “Not you, Selena. I never used anything you told me. You weren’t even supposed to be part of the plan.”
    She narrowed her eyes at me. “What does that mean?”
    â€œJust . . . I was assigned to get in with Logan and Rachel and the others, try to get information on Logan’s family. But I . . . well, I liked you. And I wanted to be your friend even when it seemed like a bad idea.”
    â€œWell, I wish you’d listened to your gut, Grace. It would have been a lot easier for me.”
    The words stung because they were true. It was something I hadn’t thought about at the time: that my friendship with Selena was completely self-serving. She’d never been part of the con. I’d pulled her into my web of lies because I’d needed her friendship, even when I knew it would be temporary. She hadn’t gotten anything but trouble out of the deal.
    â€œYou’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œStop saying that,” she snapped. “It doesn’t change anything.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œWhy was it complicated?” she asked.
    I looked up at her. “What?”
    â€œYou said it was complicated. Why?”
    I shook my head. “You were right. It’s not complicated. I did what I did. The why of it doesn’t really matter.”
    â€œNo, it doesn’t,” she said. “But I’d still like to know.”
    Somewhere outside the window I thought I heard the caw of a parrot, and I turned my face to the glass, searching the trees for the flash of blue or red that would signal its presence. Like the peacocks, the parrots had been let loose here a long time ago. Now they were naturalized, as at home on the peninsula as if they’d been here for centuries, another mysterious resident of a place that never seemed quite real.
    â€œI didn’t really know my mother,” I finally said, still looking out the window. “I was in foster care for a long time. I moved around a lot, had a lot of different families. Some of them were nice. Most of them weren’t.”
    A host of people flashed through my mind. Harsh faces and blank stares, cold hands and dirty sheets.
    â€œI was eleven when Cormac and Renee adopted me,” I continued. “They were heaven compared to the other people I’d been with. It was the first time I’d had a real family, one that couldn’t be taken away from