Perfected (Entangled Teen) (21 page)

Twenty Five

T
he world was moving beneath me, rocking me. I opened my eyes and Penn’s face was there above me. He held me cradled in his arms and then leaned forward, setting me down gently on the bed.

“Thank goodness,” he said. “I didn’t know whether I was going to end up driving you to Canada or to the emergency room.”

“It was just the blood,” I muttered, stunned by the pain that suddenly sliced through my neck.

“The cut isn’t too deep,” Penn said, sitting me down on the edge of the bed. “I put a butterfly bandage on it. I think you’ll be fine.”

He bent down and picked up a large tool resting on the floor by the bed. “Let’s hope this works,” he said, placing it over the end of the chain next to my wrist. “Otherwise we’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”

He pushed down on the handles, straining to move them. “Damn, they make this stuff hard to cut through.” He grunted, bearing down again. He let go and readjusted his hands on the grips. “One, two, three.” He pushed down again, his arms shaking from the strain.

“What if it doesn’t work?” I asked. The throb of my pulse pounded in my neck, making me flinch with pain at every beat.

He stood up once more and wiped at his forehead. “It’ll work. It has to work.”

Once more he squeezed. The tendons in his neck stood out as his whole body shook with the effort. Finally, the metal began to give. The teeth of the bolt cutters sank through the chain.
Snap. Snap.
The chain fell from my wrist, clanging against the floor and I cringed. It was loud. Too loud.

“Crap,” Penn whispered, whipping around to look out the window at his parents’ wing of the house.

The two of us paused, holding our breaths as we waited for the light to come on. Every sound seemed amplified: the
tap
of a stick blowing lightly against the window, the
tick
of the clock down the hallway. Penn and I strained to see across the dark patio, waiting for his parents to awaken. Waiting to be discovered. The seconds dragged by, but nothing happened. The house stayed dark.

“We need to hurry,” Penn said. “I pushed the car down to the end of the lane so we wouldn’t make so much noise, but now I’m worried about you. Do you think you’ll be able to make it?”

The room was still spinning, but my body filled with an odd strength. If he asked me to walk all the way to Canada, I could do it.

“I’m—” Just as I opened my mouth, a sound at the door made both of us turn.

“Penn?” The congressman’s wife stood in the doorway. Her silk robe was wrapped tightly around her chest, but still she brought her arms across her body as if she was trying to warm herself.

Penn stood up, openmouthed. “Mom,” he said. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“It’s not?”

“He can’t keep her chained up like this,” Penn said. “You can’t treat a person like an animal.”

“Your father will never forgive you for this.”

Penn closed his eyes, but I could see the pain on his face. He might be angry with his father, but he still loved him. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get her out of here.”

“And what? You were just going to run off into the night?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Do you have money? A place to go? Have you thought any of this through?”

He opened his eyes and clenched his jaw.

His mother sighed heavily. “So you’re just going to throw everything away? Your future? Just so you can set a pet free?”

“What future?” Penn snapped. “The one Dad has all planned out for me? I don’t want that. I don’t want any of it and if you make me stay, you’ll be chaining me up, too.”

“I never said I was going to.”

He froze. “What?”

“I never said I was going to make you stay.”

Penn took a deep breath, but he stayed silent. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment and even though they didn’t speak, it seemed as if they’d come to an understanding. “You only have one chance. Just look at the mess that stupid Harper woman made. If she’d taken my help instead of insisting she do it all herself, it would have worked the first time.”

“Wait,” Penn said. “If she’d taken your help?”

The congressman’s wife smiled. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. I never wanted her here.” She turned to look at me. “And maybe some little part of me likes that I’m doing something meaningful for once.”

F
ifteen minutes later the three of us were out of the house. I sat in the car while Penn and his mom stood next to my door. In my arms I held a small bundle of clothes stuffed into the case of one of my pillows.

“I wish we could have left a note for Ruby,” I said, imagining her asleep in her bed. I wanted to run upstairs and kiss that sweet freckled nose one last time. I didn’t want to think about the look she would have on her face when she woke in the morning and realized that Penn and I were gone.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Penn swipe his eyes with the back of his sleeve, but I pretended not to see.

“Don’t worry,” his mother said. “I’ll make sure she knows.”

Simultaneously we turned to face the sleeping house one last time. It really was beautiful, even in the dark. I wanted to picture it this way forever, quiet and elegant, the perfectly trimmed boxwood hedges standing like sentinels beside the front door, protecting all that was beautiful inside.

I closed my eyes, trying to seal the image there. I didn’t want to think about what would happen in the morning when the congressman came to get me out of bed, only to find a broken chain and a bathroom full of blood.

“I’ll keep him from finding out for as long as I can,” the congressman’s wife said, handing Penn a thick envelope. “Here’s some cash. It’s not a lot, but it should get you by for a while. There’s an address on top. They’ll take care of you.” She reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a small paper bag. “I know how much you like them.”

The paper crinkled as I took that bad and opened it. Inside, the bright yellow wrappers of a couple dozen butterscotch gleamed up at me.

“It was you,” I said, thinking back to those bright wrappers on my pillowcase each day.

She nodded once.

“Thank you,” I croaked, hoping she knew how grateful I was, not just for the candy, but for all of this.

“Now get going,” she said, kissing her son softly on the cheek.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

Penn pushed the car out of the driveway, waiting to start the ignition until we were out on the lonely stretch of blacktop that would take us away. The car rumbled to life underneath us and Penn sent us speeding into the night.

He sat forward in his seat, both hands clutched around the steering wheel. Every minute or so he glanced in the rearview mirror, but even though the road stayed dark behind us I could feel the anxiety radiating off of him like heat.

“How’s your neck feeling? Do I need to change the bandage?” His dark eyebrows knitted together in concern.

“My neck’s okay,” I said. “It’s the rest of me that hurts. My whole body feels like it’s tied in a knot.”

“Me, too,” Penn agreed. “I’ve never disobeyed my dad like this. He’d kill me if he knew what I was doing. Forget that he’s never supported the death penalty. I’m pretty sure this would change his mind.”

He was trying to be funny, but I could see the seriousness behind his words.

“My dad spent my whole life telling me what to do. It’s like he was trying to turn me into a mini version of himself, but I’ve never been good enough. Everything I’ve ever done has been a disappointment to him. So really this shouldn’t be anything new, should it?”

“How could you ever be a disappointment?” I asked.

The world continued to rush by. Trees and fields started to make way for houses and shopping centers. It was hard to imagine there were so many lives being lived out there and none of them had anything to do with us.

“Are you sure Ruby will be all right without us? I keep thinking about what she’s going to do when she wakes up and we’re both gone.”

“She’ll be all right,” Penn said, unable to hide the catch in his voice. “At least she’ll have Claire.”

I knew how much he loved his little sister, but I wasn’t so sure that Claire would be any comfort to Ruby. I hated to think about the perverse sort of happiness our running away would give Claire. Now she’d be justified in believing what she had said about me—that I was just waiting to tear her family apart.

“Maybe this will make Claire happy,” I said.

“Why would she be happy?”

“Because she’ll be right,” I said, turning away from him. I could make out a bit of my face reflected in the glass, a ghostly version of myself speeding along beside us through the trees.

“What are you talking about?”

I swallowed. “Maybe she was right. Maybe I was the worst thing that could happen to your family. Look at how I tore you apart.”

Penn sighed. “Claire doesn’t understand. And maybe some part of her is jealous of you. You know, she’s been my dad’s pet since she was a little girl.” When my eyes grew wide he shook his head and chuckled. “Not a pet like you. She’s always been my dad’s favorite. And all his attention didn’t help. She does everything he’s ever wanted. She got good grades. She went to the same school he went to. She follows his politics. She studied law because she thought it would make him proud. God, she’s probably only marrying Grant because she thinks he’d want her to.”

I reached out and held onto Penn’s hand, hoping what he said about Claire was true and that she wasn’t really as bad as I’d believed. His hand was warm and solid in mine and I held on tight while we drove in silence, our headlights cutting a trail through the dark.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Penn asked after a while. “You look so pale.”

I nodded. “The farther away we get, the better I feel.”

Penn clenched and unclenched his hand around the wheel, glancing over at me uncomfortably. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Last night…when you went to the Millers’ house. You weren’t
really
going to leave without…” His voice cracked.

“I was.”

“Even though you knew how I felt about you?”

“I wanted to tell you,” I said. “But after I heard you talking to Claire…”

He shook his head like he didn’t understand. “To Claire?”

“I don’t need to be reminded what I am,” I said. “I know… I know I’m just a ‘goddamn pet.’”

Penn sat back, letting the words sink in. “Ella, that’s not—”

“I heard what she said to you, about what your father would do if he found out what was going on between us. I was scared. Scared about how I felt about you. Scared of your father. He saw us. At the garden, he
saw
us.”

“You’re sure?”

I told him about the trip to the beach, the words his father had whispered so close to my ear.

“God, that’s just like him,” he said. “He wants to control everything and everybody. Well guess what, he can’t control how I feel about you. Not anymore.” Penn shook his head, looking down at the dashboard. “Damn it,” he said, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. “We’re almost out of gas.”

He slowed the car, pulling off the dark highway toward the glow of a large green sign. As we pulled up in front of the store, he threw the car into park and turned to face me. “You know I don’t just think you’re a stupid pet, don’t you?”

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t speak.

“Ella?”

As I turned away from him to look out into the parking lot, he slammed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the car.

Twenty Six

I
nside the gas station the bright florescent lights overhead seemed as harsh as the afternoon sun compared to the dark of the car and I squinted, scanning the store for Penn. I’d never been inside a building like this. The shelves were crowded with shiny packages that reminded me of Ruby’s butterscotch candies and along the back wall, behind glass doors, there were rows and rows of bottled drinks full of reds and blues and greens and browns; colors you could hardly dream a drink could be.

“Can I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked, cocking her head as she stared at where I stood beside the door.

Penn stood in front of her at the counter. “She’s with me,” he said briskly as he opened up his wallet, and then, turning to me, “Go back and wait in the car.” His voice sounded agitated.

The woman’s gaze darted between us. “Were you at a ball or something? She looks like Cinderella.”

Penn glanced over at me as if he was seeing me for the first time. His gaze traveled down over my gown. “Oh…it’s nothing.”

“I always wanted to wear a big ball gown,” the woman said to me. “Only I never had anywhere special to wear it. I guess I could’ve gotten one of those big gowns when I got married, but I couldn’t really stomach spending so much on a dress I’d only wear once.”

Penn nodded, pushing the money closer to her. “I need forty dollars on pump number eight.”

The woman finally took her eyes off of my dress and I slipped back out through the door. A minute later, Penn followed me out.

“What were you thinking coming inside?” Penn shook his head. “Now she’s seen you. What if she can identify you?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t think. I didn’t mean—”

“Why didn’t you come to me when you heard what I said to Claire?” he interrupted. “Why run away?”

“I don’t know.”

He groaned and headed back to the car. “Why did you let me take you away if you thought I didn’t care about you?”

“I do believe you. But it’s complicated,” I said, jogging to catch up to him. “In a way, Ms. Harper cared about me, too.”

“This is nothing like what Ms. Harper did. That lady’s crazy,” he said, stopping in front of the car. “She had an agenda and my mom was trying to get rid of you.” Penn placed his warm hands against my arms and pulled me close to him. “This isn’t about stupid politics or being a hero. It isn’t about anything but you, Ella. I just want to be with you.”

He placed his finger beneath my chin. Gently he lifted my face to his. Above us, the light from the sign cast a green halo across our heads. In his eyes I saw so much worry, so much kindness, that for the first time ever I let myself believe this boy standing next to me could be someone I could share my life with.

B
ack in the car, Penn’s hands finally started to relax their grip on the wheel and his body settled back into the seat. The tension that rode high in his shoulders seemed to melt away. He rolled down the windows and the cool night air washed over us, bringing in the smell of moist earth and summer grass. With a flick of his wrist, he reached down and switched on the radio and the first few soulful notes of a song started to play.

“This one’s dedicated to you,” he said, turning to smile at me for the first time all night.

I leaned my head back against the seat and took a deep gulp of night air. I was afraid to admit it, but I could almost taste freedom, fresh and sweet on my tongue. A moment later Penn’s warm hand settled on top of mine.

I stared at the place our fingers intertwined. They looked the same. Two hands. One big. One small. Looking at them, you’d never know that one of them belonged to a pet. They were just hands. That was all.

For a long time we drove in silence, listening to song after song as we passed roads lined with houses, and then long stretches of emptiness, nothing but trees and fields and telephone poles.

I closed my eyes, too tired to keep them open any longer.

“Do you think I’ll ever get to play a piano again?”

I was almost afraid to hear his answer, but I needed to know. Was the piano something I’d left behind forever the way we’d left Ruby?

“Of course you’ll play the piano,” Penn said. “It’s who you are.”

“Is it?” I asked, opening my eyes to look at him. “I don’t know what parts are
me
and what parts are what Greenwich Kennels says I should be.”

Penn shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess it all depends on what makes you happy.”

I took my hand off of his and turned to stare out the window at the thick stands of trees surrounding us. What made me happy? How should I know? It was a feeling I was used to pushing down, a dangerous emotion that belonged to someone else, not to me.

“Miss Gellner says I’m not supposed to be happy. I was created to tend to other people’s happiness, not my own,” I said. “How can I suddenly start believing something different?”

The bluish light of early morning illuminated Penn’s tired face. “I don’t know,” he said as he shook his head. “I really don’t, but when I hear you play the piano I have to believe it’s coming from somewhere deep inside you. It’s a place that you created, not Greenwich.”

He was right. The piano was my first taste at love, a secret I kept for years. But I didn’t have to keep things secret anymore.

“Yes,” I finally said. “The piano makes me happy.” I smiled at him. “And do you know what else makes me happy?”

“What?” he asked, a smile breaking out across his face.

“You, Penn Kimball. You make me happy.”