The Keepers: The Box and the Dragonfly by Ted Sanders

Author:Ted Sanders
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Confessions

BECK DROVE THEM HOME. THEY WERE HEADED TO CHLOE’S house first, so she could get clothes and make arrangements for Madeline. As they drove, Chloe rolled the leestone mindlessly between her cupped palms, peeking at it now and again, and once or twice pressing it to her cheek.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Horace asked her, after several silent blocks.

“About what?”

“You know what.” Horace wasn’t sure how much Beck understood—or actually, whether Beck could even talk.

“I can handle it. I’m used to dealing with things on my own.”

“I don’t think that’s smart.”

“I never said I was smart.” She tilted her head at him. “So you lured Dr. Jericho away that night, huh? When I was hiding inside the tree?” Her brow wrinkled. “Or no—the night before.”

“The night before, yeah.”

“You didn’t really know me yet.”

Horace shrugged. “It didn’t matter. You needed help.”

“No, I mean you didn’t know me well enough to know I didn’t need help.” She pressed the leestone against her cheek again. Horace turned away, irritated. It wasn’t like he’d been bragging about what he’d done, throwing it in her face.

They dropped into silence. Horace thought they were nearly to Chloe’s house now; the neighborhood seemed familiar. Chloe leaned forward and spoke to Beck.

“Actually, I don’t need to go home. Can you take me to my aunt Lou’s instead? It’s close by.” Beck regarded her in the mirror for a moment. “My sister is there,” Chloe explained, and after another little pause, Beck nodded.

Chloe started to give Beck directions, but Beck just reached up and tapped a sticker on the dashboard that read:

ANY ADDRESS ANYWHERE

“Oh, sorry,” Chloe said, and she rattled off a street and number. As they swung around the next corner, Chloe leaned into Horace. “Are we supposed to take that literally?”

After a couple of blocks, they pulled up in front of a squat blue house with four little girls playing outside. Chloe got out and one of them, a girl of seven or eight with copper-colored hair, came running. They hugged, and then Madeline pointed at the cab, a question on her face. Chloe turned, and Horace saw the words form on her lips—my friend Horace. Horace offered up an awkward wave. Madeline just stared.

An enormous woman with short hair came out of the house. More hugs, more talking, more pointing at Horace. Another embrace. They went inside briefly, and two minutes later Chloe reemerged, carrying an overnight bag. As she headed back to the cab, Madeline wrapped herself around her leg. Chloe staggered down the sidewalk, making the most of it, dragging the leg and Madeline with it. Horace could hear the laughter—Madeline’s high squeal and Chloe’s laugh, too, rich and childlike, a laugh he hadn’t heard from her before. They made it all the way to the cab, and then Chloe heaved Madeline to her feet with a groan. He could hear their talk now, round and muffled. Madeline’s face bent into a pout. “Tomorrow,” Chloe said. “Promise.”

Chloe pried herself away from her sister and opened the car door.

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