Perfected (Entangled Teen) (7 page)

His words sounded familiar.

“But—”

“There’s stuff you don’t know, Ella. Stuff you probably shouldn’t hear from me.” He climbed to his feet. “I’m sorry. I’ve gotta get out of here.”

He paused and looked at me one last time before he turned and strode out into the night, down the paths toward the gazebo. I didn’t want him to leave. The night seemed colder and darker without him there. I wrapped my arms around my chest and pulled my wet and wrinkled feet from the water before I headed back to my room.

The cool air blowing from the vents made me shiver and I climbed under the covers, pulling them tight around my chin. Lightly, I traced my fingers over my lips, remembering what it had felt like to have Penn’s mouth on top of my own, even if it had only been for a second. Just thinking about it made my body tingle, but I wanted to feel it there again. I wanted to feel that spark, even though I knew it was wrong. I wasn’t supposed to feel this way. What would the congressman do if he found out about the thoughts that were running through my mind? If they’d given one pet back to the kennel, maybe I’d get sent back, too. I’d assumed when they bought me that I’d live here forever.

It hadn’t occurred to me that my stay might be temporary.

I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes, trying to block out the memory of the kennel’s red door, but it was useless. The image had already stained my thoughts, a shock of red as bright as blood against the dark.

Nine

I
rose early and picked one of the gowns Ruby preferred when she last stopped by my room. It was the softest shade of blush, the same creamy pink of my cheeks. The closet was full of dresses that were almost this exact shade, each one as lovely as the gown Miss Gellner had spent so much time picking out for me. I’d already been at the house a week and I hadn’t worn a third of the dresses in the closet.

This dress was elegant. The bodice was covered in fine lace with a thin satin bow accentuating my waist. Below that, yards and yards of soft chiffon billowed out like the upside-down petals of one of the beautiful flowers I’d seen in the garden. I knew, even without looking in the mirror, that it was stunning. It gave off the exact impression a pet was supposed to convey: beauty, prosperity, purity. But even so, I longed for something simple, like the plain cotton dresses we’d worn as girls in the kennel.

The other people in the congressman’s family didn’t dress in fancy clothes every day. Ruby wore shorts and a short-sleeved shirt if she wasn’t running around in her bathing suit, and Penn’s wardrobe didn’t seem much different. Even the congressman’s wife, although always tailored and put together, mostly wore clean, pressed slacks with silken blouses. They were the sort of clothes someone could be at home in.

But my dresses made me feel as if I was constantly on display. Miss Gellner would have given me a sharp whack with her stick and told me that’s exactly what their purpose was, and for me to get used to it. People didn’t buy a pet so that it could blend into the background. They bought a showpiece, a thing of beauty. And after the conversation I’d overheard between the congressman and his wife, I didn’t want to be anything but perfect. On the outside I needed to look exactly like the pet I’d been raised to be. Maybe then, my inside would begin to match. Maybe I’d stop wanting things I couldn’t have.

Outside, the day was cool. The grass was wet with dew and even though my bare feet were becoming accustomed to the feel of it, the luxury of being outside at dawn still hit me anew each day. Today, I ambled down the broad hill and veered left in front of the orchard, following the small, stone path through a patch of bushes overflowing with round white blossoms to the shade of a row of tall trees that grew along the fence. Following the trail, I tilted my face skyward and listened to the lonesome call of a single bird. The early morning sun slanted through the trees, turning the leaves golden. Up ahead, it reflected off of the windows of a carriage house on the other side of the fence.

As I drew closer, I noticed there was someone outside. Her back was turned to me and she stood hunched over a garbage can, scraping some dirt out of a bucket. Under my foot, a branch cracked and she spun around, putting her hand up to shield her eyes from the light.

“Who’s there?” she called, her voice quivering slightly.

My voice caught in my throat. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just out for a walk.”

“Out for a walk at this hour?” she barked. “I thought I was the only one foolish enough to be up this early.”

She lowered her hand from her eyes and her face came into view. I recognized her immediately—the pinched face, the wild gray hair. It was Rhonda, the lady who had stormed into the congressman’s foyer the other day, screaming about how awful pets were.

My legs shook and I stepped farther back into the shadow of the trees. I didn’t want her to see me. I only wanted to get back up to the house where everybody else was.

“I’m sorry I bothered you,” I choked out, turning to go.

“No, wait. Please,” the woman said. She stepped forward, taking off her gloves and tossing them down on a wooden table that ran along the back of the garage.

I stood frozen, wishing I could run, yet pulled by her command to stay.

“Don’t go,” she said again, closer now. “I’m Ms. Harper. I live here.” She gestured behind her. Through the trees I could make out the pale yellow paint of her house.

“You’re the girl from the Kimballs’,” she said, nodding. I expected her to start yelling at me the way she had with the congressman’s wife, but her face stayed calm. “It’s nice to meet you up close.”

She reached out her hand for me to shake, but I wasn’t sure. What if the congressman’s wife found out? Would it be a betrayal to shake hands with this woman?

“It’s a pleasure,” I finally said, curtsying slightly.

She withdrew her hand. “I guess I should apologize for the way I acted the other day,” she said. “I can get a little overheated when it comes to politics. It burns me to the core to think slavery is alive and well in America.”

I nodded as if I understood. “Please, excuse me. I need to be getting back.”

“Wait!” Ms. Harper grabbed onto the edge of the fence. “Please, let me say one thing before you go.”

My heart pounded in my chest, but I stood still.

“I can take you away from here,” she said, looking straight into my eyes. “It’s wrong what they’re doing to you. People should
never
be kept as possessions.” Her voice was desperate, pleading. “I can take you to a better place, give you your own life. I
know
people.”

She reached out and grabbed at my arm, her cold fingers digging into my skin with a grip that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I pulled my arm away.

My legs shook, but I tried to keep my voice calm. “That’s so kind of you, Ms. Harper, but please believe I’m fine where I am.”

“They just have you brainwashed into believing that.”

“I can assure you. I’m very happy,” I told her. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I really should be getting back. The Kimballs are expecting me.”

“If you ever change your mind, my offer stands,” Ms. Harper called after me. “I can help you. I can set you free.”

B
y midafternoon the house was completely silent. The congressman had left right after breakfast for a meeting, and his wife was taking Ruby into New York for the day to go shopping for a new dress to wear to their big fundraising party. Penn had driven away earlier in the morning in his dad’s convertible, but he hadn’t returned yet. Even Rosa was gone. She’d been complaining about all the extra shopping she had to do that day.

Maybe I was the only one who had nothing important to do.

I stood at the window in the living room as the congressman’s wife pulled out of the driveway. Ruby glumly waved good bye. She wasn’t excited to be shopping with her mother. According to her, they’d already been on three unsuccessful shopping trips and had come away empty-handed. They were running out of time to find something suitable for her important party.

I waved after Ruby and stood for a minute longer, making certain they were truly gone.

The seconds ticked slowly and my hands began to itch. I’d been hoping for this moment since I arrived, the moment I could finally sit down at the grand piano in the conservatory and play. For the past week all of the songs I’d been thinking about felt as if they were piling up inside me. If I didn’t get them out soon I’d explode.

As badly as I wanted to hike up my skirts and sprint straight to those perfect black and white keys, I forced myself to walk. There were some rules I just couldn’t break. And even though I was certain Miss Gellner wouldn’t be happy with the idea of me playing the piano without first being invited to do so, I decided that was one rule I would choose to disobey.

In the conservatory the piano sat in a bath of sunlight in the corner. The black top was polished to such sheen that the white puff of clouds floating above the skylights were mirrored in its reflection.

I circled the perimeter of the piano, running my hand gently over the keys, so softly that they didn’t even make a sound. For some reason it didn’t feel right to simply sit down to play. I needed to introduce myself, to let this beautiful instrument know who I was before I used it.

Finally I pulled out the cushioned bench and scooted up to the keys. Gently I pressed the middle C, listening to the sweet, soft tone that rang through the room, one single, perfect note. My eyes clouded with tears, grateful for the chance to play.

I took a deep breath, spreading my fingers across the keyboard, and closed my eyes. The notes moved up through my spine until I could actually feel them leaving my body. Until each one of those notes that had been held captive inside of me broke free.

Miss Gellner wouldn’t have been pleased with the way I moved, letting the music take control of me this way. “Save your movement for ballet,” she would have said, but I couldn’t keep my body stiff and straight when there was this sort of sound surrounding me.

I moved through all my favorite songs. Vivaldi I played so softly that the song was merely a suggestion, the thought of sound. Later I pounded out Mozart with such force that it seemed as if bringing these songs to life was something violent, a raw and savage act.

Dewy sweat formed along my brow, and my breath came in quick bursts, like I’d been running, fast and hard to keep up with the music. I struck the last few chords and sat slouched and panting at the keys.

“Wow.”

I turned around to see Penn sitting in his father’s chair. He leaned forward. “Seriously,” he said. “That was amazing. I don’t even know what to say.”

I sat up straight and smoothed out my skirt. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“I came in during the Chopin piece, at least I think that’s what it was.” He shrugged. “I’m not usually a big classical music fan.”

“Yes, it was Chopin.” I nodded, brushing the back of my shaking hand across my forehead. I hoped he couldn’t see the sweat that beaded my brow. It was bad enough that he’d seen the way I’d lost myself in the music.

Penn fidgeted in the chair. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner, but it just felt wrong to interrupt you. You looked so…” He paused, as if trying to find the right word. “Consumed.”

“I’ve been hoping your father would ask me to play, but he hasn’t yet. I probably should have waited, but I figured that since everybody was out of the house for the afternoon, I wouldn’t be bothering anyone.”

“Not to disappoint you or anything, but your music won’t be important to my dad unless there’s someone to impress.”

He must have caught the bitterness in his voice because he stopped himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you how amazing your playing was. I didn’t realize they taught you to play like that at the…”

He stopped talking and closed his eyes, shaking his head before he stood to go. I turned back to the piano, sorry to say good bye to it so soon.

“Ella?” Penn asked.

I turned around. He stood in the doorway, looking back at me. “Yes?”

“If you ever want to listen to more of the music I was playing the other day, you can always come up to my room. I’ve got a ton of stuff I could play for you.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised by the invitation. “I’d like that.”

I couldn’t hide the smile that broke across my face. My gaze fell to his lips and immediately my skin flushed. Could he tell that I was thinking about the way they felt?

He smiled back. “You can come up now, if you want.”

T
he inside of Penn’s room didn’t look a thing like the rest of the house. Maybe at one point his mother had had a hand in decorating it, but it was hard to tell because of the lengths he must have gone to cover it up. The bones of the room were strong and masculine: solid, wooden furniture stained a dark, deep cherry. But besides the furniture, the rest of the room appeared to be one giant battle against any influence of his mother.

The walls, which had once been painted a soft shade of green, were plastered over with posters of people and old, rusty road signs. The far wall above his bed was almost entirely covered with instruments. I didn’t recognize most of them, but there were a few of them that I could name: a couple of guitars, a mandolin.

“Do you play those?” I asked, pointing to the wall.

“Yeah, most of them…at least a little,” Penn said, glancing up from his speakers. “But I’m only really good at a few. Mostly I play the guitar.”

I looked around for a place to sit, but most of the surfaces were covered in discarded clothes and towels. Apparently Rosa didn’t pick up the laundry in his room the way she did for everyone else.

I stood awkwardly amidst the mess, glancing at the photographs that covered the mirror above the gigantic set of dresser drawers. There were pictures of Penn at the beach, and of him playing the guitar in front of a roaring bonfire. There were pictures of him clustered amidst groups of his friends. I searched their faces, trying to recognize the girl from the swimming pool, but none of them seemed familiar.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’m starting you out with Amos Lee since you liked Ray LaMontagne so much.”

He hit a button and music started playing, sounding as if it was coming from all four corners of his room.

I closed my eyes to the soft sound of the piano, both familiar yet totally new. It was always enchanting to hear a new composition after hearing the same ones year after year, and this one was no exception. The notes were lonely, full of melancholy that reminded me a bit of one of Beethoven’s sonatas. But I wasn’t prepared for the ache I would feel once the singing started. I took a shuddering breath.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, afraid that if I opened my mouth I wouldn’t be able to speak. I closed my eyes again and let myself drift into the music. It wasn’t until the song faded out and I opened my eyes again that I realized Penn was sitting next to me. He was staring at me again, that same puzzled expression on his face.

“That was beautiful,” I choked out, before he could ask me again if I was all right.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “It’s one of my favorites. Who would have guessed I’d have the same taste in music as a pet from Greenwich Kennels?” It was the first time he’d mentioned my past without sounding angry.

“You can play me something else if you want.”

Penn put on another song and flopped down on the bed next to me, pushing a notebook and a pair of pants onto the floor.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said. “Here, you can scoot over if you want.”