Blindsided (18 page)

Chapter 24

I wake up sore and grouchy and wishing I could get the images of Noelle’s dead body out of my head. That’s why, when I drag myself out of bed, I determine to do something I haven’t done in years. Because I need to feel real and capable and maybe this will help. Mom’s downstairs messing around in the kitchen, so I sneak to her bathroom and scoop up an armful of her makeup. Then I run to my room and lock the door.

Staring at the foundation, blush, mascara, and more doesn’t have the effect I want. All I can remember is the last time I put this stuff on, and how awful Graham made me feel about it.

I was twelve, and when everyone went out on Friday nights they’d keep me locked in the penthouse where I was “safe.” So I did what any girl would have done—I turned on musicals, ate whatever I wanted, dressed up in my mother’s fancy clothes, and slathered my face in makeup.

It never lasted long, fading as my skin absorbed the color. And it looked weird because I still didn’t have hair or eyes. But for a girl who doesn’t know what she looks like, it was just enough to keep me going.

One night, Graham and Miles came home early from some party and found me dressed up. Graham burst out laughing. “You think you look like a person in that stuff? Don’t kid yourself—you look like an invisible girl trying to be something she isn’t.”

Tears ran down my face as I rushed to my room, filled with shame. When I looked in my mirror, I saw Graham was right. My tears had streaked the fading makeup, turning me into a pretty disturbing ghost-like creature. It was then that I realized makeup wouldn’t show me my face, not really. So I never put it on again.

My hand shakes as I reach for the foundation. Screw Graham—I want to see myself today, and this is the best I have. Opening the cap, I pour the creamy color into my palm, where it seems to float in the air. I dip my fingers into it and begin spreading it over my face. It makes my heart race, seeing my features come into view bit by bit. A soft jawline, cheekbones, my button nose. I even put it on my lips so I can see how full they are.

I stand there, staring at this person I don’t know in the mirror. This face doesn’t look like the one I had at twelve. It has more angles and less round cheek. I try to see what Seth sees when he looks at me—imagining my golden hair and hazel eyes to go with this muddy mask in front of me.

Don’t see it.

Grabbing the lipstick, I use it generously in hopes that maybe it’ll make this flat image more realistic. It does a decent job, so I add blush and eye shadow and pretend this is enough.

But it’s not.

I head to my closet in hopes of covering all the still-invisible parts of me. I put on a long sleeve shirt, gloves, tight pants, and sunglasses to hide my hollow eyes. As I stuff the beanie on my head, I look in my long mirror.

The makeup is already fading, but I try to take myself in. Maybe I do look like Mom. Maybe Seth isn’t over exaggerating when he says I’m beautiful. Or maybe this is all stupid. It
does
feel fake, even without Graham here laughing at me. I pull the hat off and throw it on the ground. Then the gloves and shirt and—

Someone knocks on my door.

“Fiona?” Seth’s voice is muffled through the wood.

My face burns. He better not be looking through. “One sec! I’m not dressed!”

“Sorry for just showing up—you didn’t answer your phone. I was worried something happened,” he says as I run for my bathroom to scrub my skin. I don’t even want to know what he’d say to seeing me with makeup on.

“It’s okay!” I call, though I do find it slightly annoying. After I throw on a dress, I open the door with a smile. “Good morning.”

He gives me a suspicious look. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He comes in, and I shut the door behind him.

“That smile was the fakest thing I’ve ever seen your face do.”

He might be right, but I still find this statement offensive. “Do I have to tell you everything?”

This was clearly not the right thing to say, because Seth now looks like a wounded puppy. “Don’t you
want
to tell me everything? I
like
that I can tell you anything.”

I look away, unsure about whether I should feel bad or not. “Every time I tell you about wanting to see myself, you don’t understand. So why bother?”

Seth purses his lips, but says nothing.

Wrapping my arms around my stomach, I try to keep it together. This fighting thing is getting out of control, but I can’t seem to reel it back in. “That’s not important right now anyway…”

“It isn’t?” His voice cracks, and I know I’ve done something really wrong.

I can’t deal with this on top of everything else. “My dad is trying to have Miles murdered, and it would’ve happened last night if Spud didn’t show up.”

He tries not to be interested, but he is. “So that girl downstairs…Miles said her name was Lee Seol, but that’s Spud?”

I nod.

“Whoa.”

“Don’t tell anyone. Not even Brady. Miles will probably be pissed I even told you.”

“Of course I won’t.” He scratches his head, the information seeming to quell whatever issues we have. “So does this mean she’s, like, going to help us now?”

“I have no idea.” I grab my checkerboard bag from its peg and sling it over my shoulder. “I wanted to ask her at first, but she’s already working so hard to keep Miles safe. How can I demand more than that?”

He nods. “Good point.”

“So are we looking into your dad today?” I ask, since we’re finally on to business. Business is so much easier. “If so, I figure we should check his office.”

Seth gives me the smallest smirk. “You read my mind.”

The Mitchell Construction office is in an old strip mall that also houses a laundromat, tax place, and the one dentist in Madison. Pretty much the worst combo of businesses ever. But though I know where it is, I’ve never actually been inside. For some reason I was picturing something a lot nicer than the one room filled to the brim with files and blueprints.

“Wow,” I say as I take in the mess.

“I know.” Seth goes to a desk buried in paper. “And this is actually pretty clean. My dad is supposed to keep up with the finances, but Alejandro usually gets slammed with it all. He should probably own the place.”

“Are they out on a job?” I can’t help but notice that Alejandro’s desk is the one organized spot in the whole room.

“Yeah. They only come here for scheduled consultations, paperwork, or designing.” Seth is already digging through the files, organizing like this isn’t his first time.

“So what are we looking for?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I’ve come here plenty of times, and I know the numbers better than my dad. So I guess I don’t really know. Something that seems off?”

“Okay…” I help him go through the papers, which all seem to be money related: supply orders, estimates for customers, final payments needed, etc. A few hours go by in this mind-numbing boredom. I get us some vending machine candy from the laundromat. We start scouring the computer files.

A little past two, Seth finally leans back, clearly frustrated. “There’s nothing! I’ve seen these accounts a million times and they’re the same as ever.”

“Hmm.” I start reading the spines of binders on the shelves, all of which are labeled with years going back to before I was born. All the way back to the 1940s, in fact. This sparks my curiosity. I pull out the oldest one, labeled 1945. “Your family has been building houses around here since before Radiasure?”

He nods. “My great grandfather started the company when he got back from the war. Why?”

“So did they help build Radison before it was blown to bits?” My heart pounds at the thought. Maybe Seth’s father
does
know more than he lets on.

Seth pauses, the gears turning in his head. “I…don’t know. My grandpa died before we were born, and you know how my dad is about the past. It’s not something I ever thought to ask, but it makes sense that they would have, right? At least if he lived in this area at the time.”

“Miles said Madison didn’t even exist until after the drug wars, so yeah.” I open the binder, suddenly curious to see what the Mitchells were building in 1945. “There’s nothing here.”

“What?” Seth comes to get a closer look, as if I can’t tell the few yellowed papers are blank. “I never thought to look at these. I was always looking for money that didn’t belong. And of course hiding places for drugs, which I always find. Why do you always show me answers I’ve missed for years?”

“No clue.” I go for the next year and the next. Those are empty, too. Something about seeing nothing in these binders makes me uneasy. “Seth, if there was nothing to put in these binders, then why have them?”

He nods slowly. “I know where you’re going with this. The information has been removed, which is suspicious. But the most logical answer is that it was confiscated after Radison was destroyed…”

“What?” I don’t like the angry expression he’s giving off.

“Think, Fi—who would have taken these? Would they have destroyed them or would they have kept them?”

It clicks. “Ohhh, shit, you think the Army…?”

He drops the empty binder on the desk and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t know what I’m thinking, but it sure seems like Major Norton has had me targeted from day one. Maybe there’s no coincidence at all—maybe he’s worried we know stuff about the old city.”

I can’t seem to get enough air. It’s not impossible. The Army clearly has some kind of intel about the factory. For years no one ever thought to dig it up, and that’s the first thing they started to do. They must have known. Maybe they even have the blueprints. “You think your family helped with the factory?”

“No idea.” He leans on the desk, wincing at what I’m sure is another headache from his glitching vision. I want to reach out to him, comfort him, but I still have no idea where we stand. “But this doesn’t make my dad look
innocent
by any means. For all I know, he could be selling info to whoever wants to pay.”

“Maybe…but then where’s the money?”

“In his veins.” Seth’s voice is cold.

“He couldn’t have spent that much on drugs. That kind of info would come with a huge payoff. He’d have to have a whole room full of painkillers.” I purse my lips, the wheels turning but getting nowhere. “Something is beyond fishy.”

Wearing an expression I can’t read, Seth goes to the desk and digs through the papers again. “I’ll keep looking through this stuff. I know you’re probably bored—you can check up on Hector’s progress with destroying the element if you want.”

For some reason his words make me uneasy, or maybe it’s his pain-filled expression. It’s obvious he’s hurting in more ways than one, and I don’t like the idea of him being alone with all that stuff on his mind. “Is your vision still being weird?”

“It’s fine,” he says, though he blinks rapidly.

“You don’t
look
fine. Can’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

He shoots me a biting look. “We don’t have to tell each other everything, right?”

Anger flares, hearing my own words used against me. “Seriously, are you gonna be like that right now? I’m worried about you!”

“And I’m worried about you!” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re getting…I don’t know, like, distant from me lately, and now you won’t even tell me what I’ve done wrong.”

My eyebrows rise. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Really?” Seth leans on the desk, staring me down. “Then why do you always pull away from me when you should want to be close? And you can’t seem to stand the thought of me seeing you undressed. Not that I’m incapable of waiting, but how do you think it makes me feel to see you recoil like that?”

I fold my arms, not expecting this sudden change in topic. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re doing it right now!” he points out.

Crap.
My hands drop to my sides. “This really isn’t the time—”

“When is the time then?” Seth rounds the desk and grabs my hands. “I can’t do this. I have to tell you everything, and you should tell me what’s wrong because if this keeps going…what then?”

I know he’s right. There’s no way I’ll get past this invisibility barrier without telling him how strange it is for me, but I’m so scared of how he’ll react.

“Fiona, please, tell me.” His eyes beg me so badly that I have to look away.

“Sometimes…when we’re…it’s just…” I can’t seem to get words past this lump in my throat. But he wants me to tell him. He’s asking for it. “Sometimes it’s weird, okay?”

Seth’s brow furrows. “Weird? Like, me touching you is weird?”

I wince, but force myself to nod. “I mean, I can’t see what you’re touching or kissing. It’s just you and the air and…”

“Oh.” He drops my hands as he steps back. I have never seen him look this embarrassed, and I regret even the few words I said. “Well, I’m sorry it’s so weird to be with me. Not sure I can fix that.”

“No, Seth, that’s not what I meant.” I try to grab him, but he jumps behind the desk.