Select by Marit Weisenberg

Author:Marit Weisenberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Charlesbridge
Published: 2017-10-03T04:00:00+00:00

John parked my car in front of a small ranch house. Lights were on inside, but I could tell no one was home.

I suddenly felt so relieved and just better than I had in days, now that he was with me. I also felt completely spent.

John turned off the ignition but didn’t make a move to get out. The glimmer of the interior light went out, making the inside almost pitch-black. I knew what was coming. He’d digested the oddness of the past few minutes.

“Were you there because you knew there was going to be a fire?”

I didn’t answer, just stared out the window, looking at the telephone wires lining the streets. Now I needed to begin the lying.

“Julia!”

I reluctantly looked over at him and then wanted to look anywhere but. All he wanted was for me to admit it.

“Just say it.”

“Why do you need me to?”

That hung between us, suspended. I hadn’t known I was going to say it. That one sentence began the unraveling of everything I’d been told to guard as tightly as I could.

“Because I do.” John’s voice was soft, wary.

I started to open my car door to get out and away, the rush of what I’d admitted hitting me.

“No, stay.” John’s voice was urgent. I was so relieved he wanted me to stay that I didn’t resist. When I leaned back into my seat, he said, “Explain. I think I know part of it.”

If I said the words out loud, I could never take them back, and it wasn’t just me I was supposed to protect.

Frustrated, John spoke. “You can predict things and…I don’t know…tamper with things. There’s truth to that exposé written about your”—he searched for a word—“people.”

I could sense he was waiting for me to deny it. When it became clear that my long silence was all the confirmation he needed, John said under his breath, “Thank you,” as in, Thank you, I knew I wasn’t crazy.

I put my hand to my face to rub away my total confusion at what the hell I was doing, and I felt a layer of grit. I pulled my hand away to look at what came off, but I couldn’t see in the dark.

“I need to go.” Two seconds after my silent acknowledgment, I was already starting to worry. But the thought of going back to my glass cage made me want to be sick.

“No! Look—let’s at least go inside. No one is home. You can get cleaned up.”

John surprised me by getting out of the car in one swift move, striding to my side, and opening the door for me. He offered me his hand, which he usually hid from me. Like a robot, I undid my seat belt, took his hand, and stood up next to him. He closed the car door and started to lead me to his house.

“I have to get home.” If I went inside, I was agreeing to talk. I dropped his hand and stopped where I was on the sidewalk.

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