The Revealed (17 page)

I walk up to the second floor where my father has his office.

His secretary, Tracy, is surprised to see me. She fumbles over the phone, knocking her drink over in the process.

I flinch at the noise, suddenly amplified into an explosion in my head.

“Oh, I’m so klutzy,” she chortles.

I help her mop up the mess.

“How are you feeling?” Her thick brows pull together, her face animated with worry.

“I’m doing just fine.” I don’t add that I had the car inspected by security before I got inside.

“I’m just surprised to see you!” she exclaims. “It’s been so long. Is your father expecting you? I mean, he didn’t tell me to expect….”

What she’s really asking is,
Aren’t you supposed to be locked up in your house?

“No,” I say to her, “I wanted to surprise him. My mother thought it might be a nice idea, so close to the election,” I add.

“Well I’m sure he’ll be surprised.” She forces a grin. Meaning that my father will be upset. Everyone knows I’m supposed to be at the house.

Tracy picks up the phone. “Mr. Atwood? Lily’s here to see you.”

Pause.

“I don’t know, sir.”

Another pause, and then she hangs up the phone.

“He’s in a meeting down the hall right now, but he said it shouldn’t take long and you’re more than welcome to wait in his office.”

I walk inside the room, my fingers trace over the books on the desk before I settle on the view from the window. Across the street there used to be a park. I remember running around out there when I was little. It was called The Spirit of Justice Park. It seems a little grandiose for a cozy spot with benches tucked under trees, but it’s named for an aluminum statue of a woman who stands tall and proud over the area.

The smoke rising in the distance flattens my nostalgia and makes my gut clench in longing for those days in the sun.

My father strolls into the room looking magnificent, and I turn to greet him. His brown hair perfectly combed back. His black suit pressed and polished with a crimson-red tie. He looks like a president. Somewhere under all of this grandeur is my father.

“Lily! What a surprise,” he says.

“I got Mom’s permission, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“A little worried,” he admits. “But to what do I owe this visit?”

“Do you want to get something to eat?” I ask hopefully.

My father picks up papers to scan through as he speaks to me. “I wish I could, but we’re working on getting a press release out right now about our plans to extend the borders once I’m elected. We can’t keep ourselves confined in isolation forever.”

“I won’t take up much of your time, then. I just haven’t seen you in a few weeks and …,” my voice trails off as I lose his focus to the computer. “What are you working on?”

“Going over reports from the Department of Defense. They’ve got some new intel that could be a promising lead to the location of The Revealed.” He pauses before adding, “That’s between you and me.”

“Of course,” I say. Who could I possibly tell anyway?

“We previously thought they were coming from west of the wastelands, but now it seems as though we should be looking south.”

“Why south?”

“A group surveying the border talked to a gas attendant clerk who said she saw two Range Rovers coming up from Interstate 11. They stopped to fill up their tanks, then headed north. The group was dressed in black. She said she couldn’t see any symbols that would have confirmed it was The Revealed. But she snapped a couple of pictures. They definitely weren’t civilians.”

My father flips the computer around.

The pictures aren’t the best quality, but it’s easy to see a group of six clustered near the pump. They stand with their heads high, looking around the area. A few hold backpacks and cell phones. The cars are in great shape—that and their cell phones are red flags that these people aren’t normal civilians. If they aren’t soldiers, they have to be members of The Revealed.

“So we’re close then, right?” I ask hopefully. These pictures are solid evidence. They have to provide some leads. This means we could be really close to finding their headquarters.

“Don’t get too excited,” my father warns. “This is just the first step.”

The phone rings. I jerk at the loud thrum on my father’s desk. He watches me for a moment, curiosity turning to worry at my skittish behavior.

Bombs will do that.

“Hold on just a second,” he tells me and answers. “Jet? I was just looking over the report…. Yes, let’s go ahead and release the photos to the press…. I think so, too. Someone has to know these people….”

“Sounds good.”

My father hangs up the phone and turns back to me. “Sorry, Lil.” This is followed by silence as he assesses me. He folds his hands on the desk. “I have to get back to it,” he motions around his desk.

I clear my throat. I have one more questions for him. “Um … is there any information on Kai?”

My father sits back in his chair, annoyed. “That boy is bad news, Lil. I wish you’d forget about him.”

I ignore his frustrated tone. He’s just tired from all this campaigning. But I have to ask, even if he won’t tell me. “You haven’t heard anything?”

“Lily,” my father says and closes his computer, and now I know the question was a mistake. I’ve gotten under his skin. “Kai Westerfield arrived back home from his mission two days ago. I’ve told you from the beginning that boy is trouble. You shouldn’t meddle with someone like him. His motivations aren’t good. He’s a Westerfield. The rest of the world may be charmed by him, but we know better.”

I hardly heard anything after the first part.

“He’s back?”

“Yes, Lily. He’s back,” my father sighs. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. But you have to know this boy is no good. If the two of you were so close then where is he? Why hasn’t he come to see you? Lily, you are too good for him. And I mean it. He isn’t someone—”

Turning to leave his office I say, “Sorry, I know you’re busy. I’ll just see you at home.” I don’t give my father the chance to say anything else. I sprint out to the car and practically dive into the front seat.

“What’s the rush?” Jeremy watches me curiously from the passenger seat.

My mind is going in about fifty different directions at once. “He’s back.” I wrap my hands around the base of my neck. “He’s back.”

“You better calm yourself down before you start driving,” Jeremy says, watching me closely.

I glance over my outfit. Leggings. Boots. A thick cardigan. I don’t even bother asking Jeremy how I look. It’s fall. How else can I look but cold?

My stomach flips.

Don’t hesitate. Just do this.

I throw the car into reverse, and Jeremy holds on for dear life. “Are you trying to get us both killed?!” he yells as I speed onto the road.

Everything around me is a blur. All I hear on the drive to his house is my heart beating in my ears. Nothing is in focus.

The excitement carries me to his doorstep where a house attendant answers the door.

“Ms. Atwood,” the man says in curt recognition.

“He’s home,” I breathe.

“Ms. Atwood—”

I’m sprinting inside the house.

I run my hands along the iron banister as I make my way to the second floor. All I can focus on is the idea of being close to him. It’s almost as if I can feel him, just on the other side of the crisp white walls.

But I’ve never been inside this house, and I have no idea which room is Kai’s. As I reach the second floor I begin opening doors.

Where my house is antebellum, blending in with the Capitol’s terrain, the Westerfield mansion is contemporary, full of sleek lines and sharp angles. The exterior is white and so is the interior, with dark gray furniture and stainless steel detailing.

“Kai!” I call. There must be at least two dozen rooms. There is even a third floor above me.

I open a door. Office.

Other doors are already open.

I imagine finding him unpacking and running into his arms. He’ll tell me he missed me and apologize for not calling before he left.

Guest bedroom.

We’ll leave together right now. And spend the whole night just catching up.

Bathroom.

Finally, I reach the door at the end of the hallway and push it open. Instantly, I know it’s his. It smells like him—earthy and clean.

“Kai?” I ask, gently pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The bed is made. There’s a chair in the corner with a shirt hanging over the back. An empty duffel bag is on the floor.

“Can I help you?”

I jump out of my skin.

Roderick Westerfield stands behind me. His hands are crossed behind his back. His salt-and-pepper hair is slicked back, and he wears his typical shiny black suit. He matches the contrasts of the house. He holds himself with such pompous arrogance, raising one eyebrow at me in mock curiosity.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“I believe that’s none of your business,” Westerfield tells me calmly. “If he wanted to see you, he would have called.”

“Is he okay?”

“Of course,” Kai’s father replies. “He’s with friends right now.”

“Friends?” I haven’t met Kai’s friends yet. And that thought alone makes me realize how not-close we really are.

“He does have friends, Ms. Atwood,” he says, clearly not amused. “Now I would appreciate it if you would allow your driver to escort you to your car. I don’t encourage people barging in on me uninvited—especially little girls with misplaced affections.”

I look downstairs and see Jeremy standing in the doorway. Suddenly I feel embarrassed. More than embarrassed; I’m humiliated.

My father’s words weigh on me. Kai doesn’t want to see me.

“Excuse me,” I mumble as I pass Westerfield.

As soon as I walk outside, the old house attendant slams the door, and Jeremy takes the cars keys from me. I hardly notice any of it. I stare out ahead at the road as we drive, trying to process what just happened, from my father telling me Kai was back to the fiasco at the Westerfields’ to this moment, sitting in the car, heading home.

Kai doesn’t want to see me.

Jeremy drives me back to the house.

He’s been back for almost two days and hasn’t even called.

Why?

It isn’t until I reach my room and securely close and lock the door behind me that I slide down the wall and onto the floor. My eyes sting and I swallow, fighting back tears. I won’t cry. I won’t let myself give in like that.

But I don’t understand. How could I have been thinking about him and waiting for him all this time while he was just indifferent? How could these feelings have developed so quickly, only for them to be one-sided?

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, I glance up to find a black note on my window.

I don’t even think. I charge at it, ripping it from the wall and shredding it until a thousand little black pieces float down around me.

“Come on then!” I scream. “I’m right here! I’m right here! Just do it!”

I repeat those words over and over again until I’m exhausted.

No one answers.

No one even comes to check on me.

And I know I’m alone.

There’s a newspaper on the stands today featuring a piece on Kai with a mysterious woman. No doubt his so-called friend. The headline reads,

My parents don’t understand—not that it’s anything new. My father hasn’t even been home for the past week. I haven’t seen or spoken with him since he broke the news of Kai’s return.

I stare up from my computer at my mother, who walks in the door with her arms full of shopping bags. “I have some news,” she tells me. “Your father and I have decided to go on a last-minute campaigning spree. We’ll be traveling to five cities within the next week. We just decided today. Jet said it could be just the golden ticket we need in this race. We leave early tomorrow morning.” She’s beaming.

“And you want me to stay here?” I ask hesitantly.

“Well, of course not by yourself.” She waves a hand at me. “Jeremy will be here.”

“Right.” I don’t know why her announcement pushes me further into a wallowing pit of loneliness. It’s not like she and my father haven’t left me behind before. But I don’t want to be alone now. Can’t she see that? I think about the conversation we had the other day. The progress I thought we made suddenly seems lost.

“Can I go with you?” I dare to ask, though I already know the answer.

“Lilith.” She sets her bags down and runs a hand through her hair. “You have responsibilities here. You must keep up with your studies. You know that.”

I stare at the picture of Kai and the blonde again. It’s only a picture of their backs, but I can tell the girl is beautiful, with her hourglass shape and mermaid hair. Most likely a model.

The doorbell rings.

“That must be your English professor,” my mother sighs. “I heard you ditched your classes yesterday, and I don’t want that happening again. Do you understand? We pay a lot of money for those people, and you might as well get some use out of them.”

I spend the rest of the afternoon blankly staring at
The
Merchant of Venice
on the dining room table. It might as well have been in a completely different language. That night, I eat dinner alone. Mostly, I just stare at the food in front of me and push it around the plate. Rory is off today. She will be off a lot in the next few weeks leading up to the election if my parents are out of town. With my parents out of the house, there won’t be a reason for Ilan to have extra staff around.