against his grip. "Please. This is crazy." He squeezed my wrist more tightly, but it was a strangely calming touch, as if he was trying to focus me and force me to listen carefully when he announced, very clearly and gravely, "If you don't help me, Jill, and if I can't cure myself, I will kill myself before the beast acts upon its nastiest impulses."
Tristen released my wrist then, like he knew that I wouldn't run away... which I didn't do. I just sat there, staring at him. And shaking.
70
I didn't know if I believed any of what he had just said about a beast lurking inside of him thanks to a formula created over one hundred years ago. But looking into his eyes, meeting his unwavering gaze, I did believe in that moment that he would commit suicide before he really hurt someone else. Me, or somebody like Todd Flick, or the girl in his dream, whoever she was.
Still, I found myself saying, "Tristen ... I don't think so." He thumped his novel down next to my family's box of
documents, putting them close together and turning from me to observe them both. "Your father and my grandfather believed the same thing," he said quietly. Ominously. "The past and the future for me--they seem to be commingling here, Jill."
When he looked to me again, his gaze was commanding but his voice was imploring. "I am asking you to help me. And in return I will help you develop a contest entry. Do my best to see that you walk away with a thirty thousand dollar scholarship. All of it yours. I don't care about the cash."
I stared at him, in doubt about... everything. "I... I..." I had no idea what I was about to say and no chance to say it because, suddenly, downstairs, I heard my mom enter the
kitchen. We'd completely lost track of time.
"You have to go, Tristen! My mom is home!" I searched the room, desperate. We were on the second floor, and the only closet was tiny. "You have to hide somewhere!" I cried, eyes darting everywhere. "And I have to get out of here!"
Tristen didn't seem to share my concern. He calmly packed up the box, replaced it on the shelf, stuck the novel into his messenger bag, and walked to a window, which he unlatched and opened with one powerful shove. He paused and looked to me as 71
I heard my mother's footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Go, Tristen! Please."
"Think about what I've offered, Jill," he said, stepping over the sill.
"It's a good bargain."
Then Tristen Hyde slipped out the window and pulled it shut behind him. I heard his footsteps cross the porch roof and disappear, leaving me to turn and face my mother, who stood in the doorway looking very tired and very, very unhappy.
Chapter 19 Jill
"MOM ... I WAS JUST ..."
What was I doing? My eyes darted around the room again, to the box and the window that Tristen had just shut, and the
photograph of me with my parents. "I just remembered this, and I really wanted it," I lied, snatching the picture off the desk.
"You're not to be in here, Jill," Mom said, through gritted teeth.
"I've told you!"
"But Mom ..." I wanted to defend myself and say that it wasn't so bad, was it? To be there with Dad's stuff? But the look on Mom's face stopped me. She wasn't just upset. She looked almost beyond anger. Her eyes were getting empty again, like after Dad's funeral.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, hanging my head with guilt and so I wouldn't have to look at Mom's face. Those flashes of
vacant-ness ... they were scarier than anger. "I didn't mean to upset you," I added, cradling the picture against my chest. 72
"Go to your room, Jill." Mom stepped back from the door so I could pass. "Now."
"Yes, Mom." I stared at the floor as I brushed past her. She smelled like hospital disinfectant, but I caught a faint whiff of staleness, too, like maybe she hadn't showered that day. "Good night."
She didn't answer. As I walked to my room, I heard her slam the office door shut, and the faint click of the lock slipping back into place. I closed my own bedroom door behind myself and stared
Tristen released my wrist then, like he knew that I wouldn't run away... which I didn't do. I just sat there, staring at him. And shaking.
70
I didn't know if I believed any of what he had just said about a beast lurking inside of him thanks to a formula created over one hundred years ago. But looking into his eyes, meeting his unwavering gaze, I did believe in that moment that he would commit suicide before he really hurt someone else. Me, or somebody like Todd Flick, or the girl in his dream, whoever she was.
Still, I found myself saying, "Tristen ... I don't think so." He thumped his novel down next to my family's box of
documents, putting them close together and turning from me to observe them both. "Your father and my grandfather believed the same thing," he said quietly. Ominously. "The past and the future for me--they seem to be commingling here, Jill."
When he looked to me again, his gaze was commanding but his voice was imploring. "I am asking you to help me. And in return I will help you develop a contest entry. Do my best to see that you walk away with a thirty thousand dollar scholarship. All of it yours. I don't care about the cash."
I stared at him, in doubt about... everything. "I... I..." I had no idea what I was about to say and no chance to say it because, suddenly, downstairs, I heard my mom enter the
kitchen. We'd completely lost track of time.
"You have to go, Tristen! My mom is home!" I searched the room, desperate. We were on the second floor, and the only closet was tiny. "You have to hide somewhere!" I cried, eyes darting everywhere. "And I have to get out of here!"
Tristen didn't seem to share my concern. He calmly packed up the box, replaced it on the shelf, stuck the novel into his messenger bag, and walked to a window, which he unlatched and opened with one powerful shove. He paused and looked to me as 71
I heard my mother's footsteps coming up the stairs.
"Go, Tristen! Please."
"Think about what I've offered, Jill," he said, stepping over the sill.
"It's a good bargain."
Then Tristen Hyde slipped out the window and pulled it shut behind him. I heard his footsteps cross the porch roof and disappear, leaving me to turn and face my mother, who stood in the doorway looking very tired and very, very unhappy.
Chapter 19 Jill
"MOM ... I WAS JUST ..."
What was I doing? My eyes darted around the room again, to the box and the window that Tristen had just shut, and the
photograph of me with my parents. "I just remembered this, and I really wanted it," I lied, snatching the picture off the desk.
"You're not to be in here, Jill," Mom said, through gritted teeth.
"I've told you!"
"But Mom ..." I wanted to defend myself and say that it wasn't so bad, was it? To be there with Dad's stuff? But the look on Mom's face stopped me. She wasn't just upset. She looked almost beyond anger. Her eyes were getting empty again, like after Dad's funeral.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, hanging my head with guilt and so I wouldn't have to look at Mom's face. Those flashes of
vacant-ness ... they were scarier than anger. "I didn't mean to upset you," I added, cradling the picture against my chest. 72
"Go to your room, Jill." Mom stepped back from the door so I could pass. "Now."
"Yes, Mom." I stared at the floor as I brushed past her. She smelled like hospital disinfectant, but I caught a faint whiff of staleness, too, like maybe she hadn't showered that day. "Good night."
She didn't answer. As I walked to my room, I heard her slam the office door shut, and the faint click of the lock slipping back into place. I closed my own bedroom door behind myself and stared
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