She took it from him and drank the rest of it before handing the empty bottle back to him. He shrugged as he tossed it onto the floor in a pile of dirty clothes. The room was somehow messier than the last time she saw it. “I could clean your room for you.”
“I’m not gonna make you do that.”
“I know, but you’ve been nice. I’d like to do something in return.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Nice? Don’t say that shit too loud. It might ruin my reputation. And maybe I’ll ask for help with my room someday, but not today.”
“Someday, then.”
They were both quiet again, the silence awkward. Haven tried to think of something to say to lighten the mood, but his eyes were watching her, and she couldn’t focus on anything but them.
She looked around the room again, needing to break from his gaze. “I should try to move around. The longer I lie around, the harder it’s going to be when I do have to get up.”
Carmine helped her to her feet—putting weight on her legs was not easy. He held her arm the whole way downstairs, hesitantly letting go when they reached the family room.
They sat together quietly on the couch as night fell. Carmine offhandedly flipped through channels, watching a program until commercials came on and then turning to another. A few minutes past seven, he settled on an episode of Jeopardy! “This popular pasta dish consists of wide, flat noodles layered with meat, cheese, and tomato sauce.”
“Lasagna,” Haven and Carmine said at the same time. She smiled. “What is this?”
“Useless trivia,” he said, “like the bullshit they teach us in school.”
She turned back to the television, eyes wide, and soaked up every question asked during the next thirty minutes. When the show came to an end, she turned to Carmine. He appeared bored, his head propped up with his fist on the arm of the couch, as he flipped through channels again.
“Thank you,” she said. “I liked that show.”
“It’s on every night at that time,” he said. “You know, in case you wanna watch it again.”
The front door opened a few minutes later, and Haven tensed when she heard footsteps. She could feel Carmine’s gaze on her, could sense it powerfully, but she couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to see his expression. She didn’t want his pity. He had treated her like an equal, and she didn’t want to feel like less than him again.
Dr. DeMarco walked in, an uncomfortable tension entering with him. Haven fought back a bout of sickness, focusing her attention on a smudge on the floor.
“Can you go to your room, Carmine?” Dr. DeMarco asked. “I’d like to talk to her alone.”
Haven’s heart raced as she picked at her fingernails, trying to keep her composure as Carmine left. Dr. DeMarco crouched down in front of her, blocking the spot she’d been focused on, so she stared at a loose thread on his shirt instead.
He raised his hand, and Haven recoiled, wrapping her arms around herself protectively as she moved as far back from him as possible. The queasy feeling flared, and Haven bit her bottom lip to keep it in.
“You should stay off your legs for a few days,” Dr. DeMarco said as he ran his fingers across the tops of her knees and squeezed them.
She winced. It hurt. “I’m fine, sir.”
“You have bursitis. It’s when the little sac above the kneecap fills with fluid. You need to rest and ice them so the swelling goes away.”
He let go of her knee but didn’t get up. It was uncomfortable, him staring at her. She wanted nothing more than for him to go away.
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice softer. “Do you know what a GPS chip is?”
She shook her head.
“It’s a tracking device, sometimes as small as a grain of rice. My car has one in it. If someone steals it, I can find its location. It’s a security measure, so no one takes what belongs to me.” He paused. “You’re no different, child. You have one in you, too.”
At those words, Haven met his gaze. Sympathy shined from his eyes, which made her sicker.
“I injected you with one in the basement that first day, so no matter what happens, I’ll be able to find you. It’s how I knew where you went yesterday.”
She couldn’t speak, afraid if she opened her mouth, she’d lose it. She’d never had these reactions toward Master Michael. She endured years of abuse from him and could keep going, battered but strong, intact . . . but in one second, without raising his hand, Dr. DeMarco had shattered a part of her.
10
Durante fell under autumn’s clutch. The lush green faded, giving way to rich, warm hues scattered among the tall pine trees. Leaves fell in heaps on the ground, covering the earth like a crisp blanket.
With the emergence of fall came Homecoming, a big extravaganza in town, with spirit week and a pep rally, a parade, and a football game, the week’s activities culminating in a dance. Carmine should have been excited, but he had been dreading it all week.
Haven had been cold again, hiding out whenever he was home. He heard her crying at night as he sat in the library, whittling away the hours by plucking the strings on his guitar. He wanted to go to her, to console her, but he didn’t know what to say. Sorry you’re here? Sorry you’re trapped? Sorry my father is a sick motherfucker? How could he explain it, make it all right, when nothing about the situation made sense to him?
It was close to six in the evening when Haven opened her bedroom door and came face-to-face with Dr. DeMarco. He stood in the hallway with his fist raised to knock, and she took a step back as he dropped his hand. “May I come in?”
She nodded, confused why he would ask permission in his own house.
He entered nonchalantly, as if he were there for casual conversation, and looked around for a moment before addressing her. “How do your knees feel?”
“Fine,” she said quietly.
“Do you think you’re up for a trip out of the house?”
The question alarmed her. A voice in the back of her mind screamed, It’s a trick!
“Only if you say so, sir,” she said, eyeing him warily.
Dr. DeMarco reached out to her. She recoiled, her heart pounding rapidly as she braced to be struck, but he dropped his hand without touching her. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re going to Carmine’s football game. Make yourself presentable.”
She stood there when he left, having no idea what he considered presentable. She eventually changed into a pair of khaki pants and a sweater and brushed her frizzy hair, but nothing could tame the natural curls. She pulled it back with a rubber band and forced her feet into a pair of shoes before heading downstairs. Dr. DeMarco waited in the foyer with his hands shoved in his pockets, rocking on his heels. Hearing her approach, he scanned her. She awaited his assessment, but he said nothing as he pulled out his keys and opened the front door. Haven stepped onto the porch as he locked up the house, ushering her into the passenger seat of the car.
Durante High School’s parking lot was packed when they arrived, cars lining the road and covering the field beside the school. Haven gawked at them as Dr. DeMarco parked on the grass.
“I’ve gone about things the wrong way,” he said. “I’ve kept you in the house until you could prove you’d act appropriately in public, but there’s no way for you to do that until I allow you around people. So I’m giving you a chance, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”
“Yes, sir.”
Her knees wobbled as they made their way into the stadium. People surrounded them on all sides, shoving past and blocking their path. Dr. DeMarco glided through the crowd fluidly, while she followed, feeling like she was drowning. They encircled her, voices and bodies swallowing her like a current. Dr. DeMarco paid her no mind as they headed up the packed bleachers.
A voice carried over the loudspeaker as a band played, and cheerleaders chanted something Haven couldn’t hear over the roar of the crowd. She covered her ears as everyone took their seats, only dropping her hands when it calmed down.
Familiar laughter rang out, and Haven looked in the direction of the sound. Dominic walked toward them with his arm draped around a girl, Dia begrudgingly following them.
Dominic took a seat in front of them and introduced Haven to his girlfriend. Tess stared at Haven for a moment, her gaze intense, but said not a word as she sat down beside him. Dia wedged herself between Haven and Dr. DeMarco. It startled Haven, but Dr. DeMarco simply slid over to give the girl room.
Haven turned her attention to the game, trying to ignore the people all around. She scanned the field silently as a player was hit and knocked onto his back. She winced. Ouch.
“Looks like number three took a hard hit,” the announcer said. “Let’s hope he’s okay.”
“He’s fine,” Dominic said dismissively. “Carmine’s tough.”
Her eyes darted back to the field. Carmine?
He climbed to his feet and flexed his fingers, his white number 3 jersey smudged with grass and dirt. Her mouth went dry as she gazed at it. So that was what the big black number meant.
“You don’t know shit about football, do you?” Dominic asked, glancing back at her. “I can see it on your face.”
She smiled sheepishly. “No.”
Dominic was rattling off the basics of the game, most of it lost on her, when Carmine pulled off his helmet, his skin glowing with sweat under the stadium lights. As she watched him, her breath hitched.
Carmine turned toward the bleachers, his eyes drifting in their direction as he scanned the crowd, and Haven could have sworn his gaze lingered on her for a moment.
The rest of the game rushed by, the energy in the stadium making Haven’s skin tingle. People occasionally approached Dr. DeMarco, not one inquiring as to who she was. She could see it in their eyes, though, could see it in their expressions as they surveyed her from a distance, trying to make sense of her presence.
When the final whistle blew, the crowd descended upon the field. Haven followed Dr. DeMarco to the surrounding fence, her footsteps faltering on the outskirts.
Dr. DeMarco paused. “Don’t move from this spot. Remember what I’ve told you.”
The voice in her head screamed again, He’s testing you!
Someone approached while she stood there, their voice an unfamiliar southern drawl like none she’d heard before. “Lost?”
Haven turned to see a boy with sun-kissed skin, his blond hair concealed under a baseball cap. He wore a pair of cargo shorts and a blue t-shirt. Haven was immediately drawn to his nearly bare feet. She smiled at them—he had on flip-flops.
Her own feet felt stifled. What she wouldn’t give to have a pair.
“I’m not lost,” she said politely. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“I’m Nicholas.”
“Haven.”
“So, tell me something, Haven. What do you call a deer with no eyes?”
“Excuse me?”
“No-eye deer.” Nicholas grinned. “Get it? No idea.”
