Verify by Joelle Charbonneau

Author:Joelle Charbonneau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-07-16T16:00:00+00:00

Ten

My bike is leaning against the side of the garage when I return home. Someone from the Stewards had taken care of it, just as Atlas had promised hours ago when we first stepped off the bridge and into the shadow-filled rabbit hole from which I have yet to fully emerge.

Everything is quiet as I slip through the door and soundlessly shut it behind me. I peel off my shoes, dump my bags at the foot of my bed, and climb under the covers, hoping to find refuge in unconsciousness. To escape the day and the questions swirling in my mind.

The dream comes as it always does. Mom standing on the sidewalk. The headlights shining bright as the car streaks down the street. Only this time the car doesn’t hit her. This time the vehicle screeches to a stop at the curb.

Two men in dark coats jump out. They slam their doors shut and shout, “Are you Gillian Beckley?”

I scream for her to stop, but she is already placing a small pill on the tip of her tongue and swallowing.

“Mom! No!”

The men running toward her freeze in place. The sidewalk and the buildings and the headlights fade into nothingness until only Mom and I are there in a cloud of white.

“An artist’s job is to look at the world and share the truths they see. I had no choice but to look, and I couldn’t ignore what I saw.” She holds out her hand. “Truth can be dangerous, but it is more dangerous to pretend it’s not there. Be careful.”

My eyes snap open.

Sunlight streams bright through my window as I shove the covers off and glance at the clock.

Nine twenty-two. I slept later than I have since the night the two officers came to break the news about the accident. The smell of coffee wraps itself around me like a warm blanket. Dad is not only awake, he’s also functioning. I blink away the haze of sleep and look down at my clothes, which are damp with sweat, and that’s when all that happened last night comes rushing back.

Dad drinking. Atlas on the bridge. The paintings on the station walls. The Lyceum and the books. My mother’s hidden life and all that it implies.

I slide out from under the covers and check the foot of my bed. Two bags. The red one is mine. The green-striped black one has the two books Atlas told me to read.

I jump at the light rap on the door and shove the bag and the books under the covers as it swings open.

“Hey.” Dad gives me a tense smile. “I heard you moving around and thought you could use this.” He holds out a tall green mug with outlines of paintbrushes pictured on it.

An apology.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the mug. “I didn’t set my alarm.”

“You needed sleep. We both did. It was a long week.” He slides his hands into the front pockets of his khaki pants. “Do you have big plans for today?”

He

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