A Connecticut number.
Home.
What once was home, anyway. Now I didn’t claim anything from Connecticut or that world. Not after leaving it when my sister disappeared. The only reason I even entertained keeping my old phone number—the last tie to the world I’d come from—was the fact that my sister might need it one day. It was the same reason that stalled me as I looked at the inbound call now.
Could it be her? After all this time, could it really be my sister running back after running away?
I doubted she’d still have a Connecticut number, though it wasn’t impossible. But I also didn’t want to answer just to be wrong and end up having to talk to my mom or dad or god forbid anyone else.
No, if this was truly Mar, I would know… right?
Doubt slipped in on the last ring, but just as I moved my thumb to answer the call, I noticed the front door opening and our very own Saint Alta slipping away without saying goodbye.
When I looked back down, the call had ended.
Pocketing the phone, I jogged after her. She was halfway to her car by the time I caught up, opening the back door to slide her bags in a few moments later. When she shut her belongings in and finally turned around, she startled at the sight of me.
My eyes narrowed. “Please tell me you knew I was behind you.”
“I… did,” she said defensively, her arms folding over her chest and her back going up against the side of her car to put some space between us. “Do you need something?”
Jesus. I get that she was spaced out, but it was dangerous to becompletely clueless “Shape up, Boss. A nice girl like you will get snatched up if you’re not paying attention.”
Her arms folded tighter around herself. “Any girl could get snatched up, not just nice ones.”
“Did you really think that was a good comeback?” I asked.
“Yeah, I thought it was pretty good,” she said.
I couldn’t help it. I swear I didn’t laugh so much with anyone else. This girl was just… something else. “That was rhetorical. Iknowit wasn’t a good comeback.”
“Oh,” she pouted. “Well, whatever. I have to get back to the office. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
“Feeling any better?” I asked, before she could get in her car.
“Better than…”
“Than when you tried to strangle that plant,” I said, nodding in the direction of the victim.
She winced. Yeah there was no way I was forgetting about that. She knew it too. Which is probably why she sighed and went for the truth. “Yeah, actually I am. Seeing that you guys are working on your art for the festival calmed me down a little. So… thank you.”
“I told you they would worry,” I said. “They’re used to seeing Saint Alta. If only they knew what you were really like.”
She looked at me, her expression open and honest. “I’m not a saint you know?”
“No?” I asked, looking her over slowly. “Could’ve fooled me.”
That expression closed right down again. “I’ll see you later, Mr. Harper.”
Ah, the“Mr. Harper.”She was pissed again. I couldn’t help but laugh. So testy this one, but only with the right touch. Mine. For everyone else she was a dream.
“Are you going to tell me what was bothering you?” I asked.
“Probably not,” she answered truthfully.
“Are you going to tell me what you thought about my sketch,then? Everyone else got a response. Not me,” I said, suddenly wanting to know.
Her expression went thoughtful, her eyes skating up as if she was seeing the photo right there in front of her again. Then she looked at me. “If you tell me what it means, exactly, then yes. I’ll tell you what I think.”
