Watercolour Smile

  Despite everything that I had just said, everyone turned to look at Noah—like he had been the most shocking detail of my recount. Quillan stared with a jumble of emotion that was too hard for me to read, Cabe with a casual roll of his eyes, and Silas… with anger. Strangely, Noah ignored the others and met Silas’s glare, the corner of his mouth turning down at the side. Was Silas worried that Noah had broken their rule?

  “What did those messages mean?” I asked Silas. “The ones that he was sending to me?”

  “It means I need to wipe your phone. Hand it over.”

  I dug my phone out and tossed it into Silas’s waiting palm, and then I shoved my hands into my empty pockets.

  “If he’s been listening in… do you think he knows?” I spoke to the ground, not yet ready to acknowledge our situation out loud.

  “Knows what?” Silas goaded, a hint of ice to his tone.

  I whipped my head up and glared at him.

  “Silas.” Quillan sighed. “Not now.”

  “It’s possible that he knows you’re bonded to more than one pair,” Cabe said gently. “But I have a feeling that he would have lashed out by now. I mean he’s been watching you for months—years, even, judging by the pictures, and he didn’t make himself known until you got close to us. I think finding out about Silas and Miro would set him off again, so if he hasn’t plastered photos all over the house, then he probably doesn’t know.”

  “Besides,” Silas added, facing the other way now so that we were all forced to stare at his back, “the messages were sent between one-thirty and three in the afternoon, today only. You have music for forth period, don’t you?”

  “How did you know that?” I asked.

  “He’s batman,” Cabe said.

  “The messenger was in your music class,” Silas concluded, ignoring us both.

  “These rumours are spreading faster than itchy underclothes spread through the Varsity team last year,” Poison said as we walked along the beach that Wednesday. “If Amber was worried about you before, you’re basically a terminal cancer to her at this point. Seriously, shorty, getting caught in the janitor’s closet with the captain of the football team?”

  “I just wanted to know about the picture. Cabe was the one who made it look all scandalous.”

  “That’s because Cabe’s a bona fide genius. The skankier your reputation, the more it looks like you haven’t met your pair yet.”

  “I really don’t think Weston is that tuned into high school gossip.”

  “He is, though. The most important kids in the entire Zev community go to this school, and he would have them reporting back to their parents with anything they hear about you or the Adairs. He’s not above paying people to stalk his golden boys. It got really bad over the last few years leading up to the cut-off age for Quillan and Silas, but since you’ve come onto the scene, you can bet your pretty little head that he has a spy in every single classroom.”

  “Did he ever try to pay you?”

  “He did. Clarin too.” She paused, her eyes moving to the roiling waves of the ocean. “You never asked anyone why Clarin lives at that house?”

  “No…” I creased my brow in thought. “I just took it at face-value, since he’s their cousin. Why?”

  “Clarin fed Weston false information about the Adairs and Quillans for years. He did it all out of love, of course. He was always closest to the golden boys, probably because they didn’t give a shit that he was gay, unlike the rest of the Weston-spawned bastard horde. Myself excluded.”

  “Of course.”

  “So anyway, Weston found out eventually. He killed Clarin’s mother as pay-back.”

  “What?” I spun around, my hair whipping into my face. A few strands got caught in my mouth and I spat them out, grabbing Poison’s arms, my nails digging into her skin. “Tell me that was your idea of a really terrible joke… please!”

  “He did it.” She winced, probably because of my grip. “I was always a little more selective with my information. I mostly pretended that I didn’t even know my own name. Weston still thinks I’m mentally retarded, or he would have been hassling me more to spy on you, I’m sure. I mean, he still gets my mother to ask me, and I do say things… obvious things, that he would know anyway. But I avoid lying.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I said dumbly, my hands falling back to my sides. “That’s…”

  “That’s Weston.”

  “He came to my father’s funeral,” I said, turning toward the ocean again and digging my toes into the sand. I couldn’t believe that Clarin’s mother was dead. I couldn’t believe that Weston had killed her… and for something so seemingly insignificant as a few lies.

  “You haven’t said much about your dad or how he died. Only that it happened.”

  “We went to his house to give him money, Silas and me. He was already dead. Some guy had shot him. That’s why we brought Tariq here with us, because we didn’t want him getting caught up in any retribution plans.” I skipped over the real reason, being that I had discovered Tariq’s prior involvement with the messenger. I wasn’t ready to share that information before I had come to terms with it myself. I couldn’t see the look of suspicion or judgment on Poison’s face until I had fully ridded myself of my own suspicion.

  “If they killed your dad, didn’t they already get their retribution?”

  “There were still guys in the house when we got there. Silas… ah… killed them.”

  Poison didn’t even bat an eye. “Couldn’t he just detain them or something?”

  “They hurt me,” I muttered, passing a hand over my neck.

  “Okay… so what happened when Weston turned up at the funeral?”

  I cringed. “He attacked Silas with a knife to see if it would hurt me, too.”

  “I wondered when he would do that. Did you react?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Stupid question. You’d be locked-the-hell-up by now if you had reacted.”

  “Why doesn’t he just lock me up anyway?”

  “Because, on the off-chance that you aren’t their Atmá—and it apparently looks like you aren’t—you’re basically a godsend.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “You’re distracting all four of them from finding their Atmás. Weston has shoved girls at them before, hoping to side-track them.”

  “Why is he so obsessed with finding their Atmá?” I asked.

  “Who knows.” She shrugged casually. “It’s been a given in our society for as long as I can remember. Weston hunting for the Atmá to match his pairs. At first, all the female Atmás came running, thinking it was a Cinderella scenario. They hoped that the shoe would fit and they would live happily every after with one of the Zev princes, but it soon became clear that Weston’s intentions weren’t all that fluffy. It was probably the way he tortured Silas in front of them, while staring at them suspiciously, waiting for a reaction.”

  I shuddered, remembering the weight of Weston’s eyes he slashed at Silas. “Why just Silas? Everyone keeps telling me about how much he hates Silas, but I don’t understand why it’s just him. Shouldn’t he be torturing Noah or Cabe as well? By only hurting Silas, he’s only testing one of the pairs.”

  “I feel like it has something to do with Miro being the first-born. Miro is, after Weston, the most important person to our people. He’s the heir, the future. I guess it makes sense that Weston would be more preoccupied with his Atmá than Cabe or Noah’s.”

  “Hey!” Clarin called out, jogging down the beach toward us. “You two aren’t leaving me with much time!” He landed in front of us, diffusing the tense thoughts building up in my head. “People will start turning up soon.”

  “After the last party I had…” Poison shook her head. “I’d be surprised if anyone turns up at all. I used to have them every weekend, but it’s been months since anyone has even set foot in our house apart from you guys.”

  “They’ll come,” Clarin promised. “They better, anyway. I have
big plans for the mouse, I can’t let it all go to waste.”

  “Maybe I could dress myself?” I asked as we all began walking back toward the house.

  “Did Poison give you drugs or something?” Clarin glared at me, and then Poison. “Did you slip something into her milkshake earlier, you witch?”

  “I’ll take that as a no,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Damn straight you’ll take it as a no. Noah and Cabe will be here any minute with your stuff.”

  “You made them buy clothes again, didn’t you?”

  “I ordered a few things the second I found out we were having this party. I couldn’t go and pick them up because I had a little misunderstanding with the designer last week and I’m banned from the store for the rest of the year.”

  “Doesn’t sound like such a small misunderstanding to me.”

  Poison scoffed. “You slept with the guy, didn’t you?”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny the vicious allegations being laid against me,” Clarin declared.

  “Whore.” Poison stuck out her tongue.

  “Sticks and stones, babe.” Clarin winked at her and grabbed my arm, pulling me away. “Go set up for your party!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  Clarin dragged me to Poison’s bedroom and kicked the door closed. He pointed to the bathroom door. I didn’t need to be asked twice—I knew the drill. I put myself through a shower and washed my hair. Instead of wearing the same clothes, I simply wrapped myself in a towel and opened the door.

  “Finished,” I said.

  Clarin appeared a moment later armed with a hair dryer and a brush. He looked over my towel and then cocked his head to the side.

  “Something’s changed.” He set the hairdryer and brush down, backing me up against the counter and grabbing my arm, lifting it up for his inspection. “Have you been working out?”

  “Gymnastics,” I clarified, wishing he’d take a step back. “Aren’t you gay?”

  “You don’t need to keep reminding me.” He grinned, drawing my eyes to his lip ring. “Or are you asking out of interest?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  “Ugh, Clarin.” I pushed him and he fell back, laughing.

  “Just kidding. Although I am bisexual, just so you know.”

  “You tell me that now!” I pushed again, hard enough to slam him into the bathroom wall this time.

  “I’m kidding, mouse!” He barked out another laugh and grabbed my shoulders, forcefully spinning me around to face the mirror. “You’re so easy to tease, I just can’t help myself. Now stop trying to pull that towel tighter. You’ll cut off your circulation for no reason. I’m not interested in what you’re hiding.”

  I dropped my hands from the towel. “I hate you,” I mumbled as he started to brush the wet tangles from my hair.

  “No you don’t.” He wasn’t even paying attention anymore, his full focus now reserved for my hair.

  I sighed and brooded for all of ten minutes, until he dragged me out of my mood with his usual combination of light humour and rude obscenities.

  “You’re investing a lot into this particular party,” I said as he meticulously dried my hair by sections, coaxing it to fall in glossy waves down my back. “What’s the deal?”

  “You know I love dressing you.”

  “Mhm,” I muttered, not convinced. “And what’s the other reason?”

  His eyes flicked to mine in the mirror, and I could tell that he was amused. “People were curious about you before, being the Adair sister and everything… but it’s nothing compared to now. You’re dynamite for my reputation right now, Seph. I’ve started seeing people wearing ridiculous pleated skirts at school—because of you. You wore a pair of purple skinny jeans on Monday too, and guess what… everyone suddenly owned a pair of bright purple skinny jeans by Friday. They’re going to notice the smallest changes in your usually prissy appearance—”

  “Hey, I’m not prissy.”

  “Yeah you are. Anyway, they’re all going to notice. I want to stand back and hear the whispers, see their faces. I’m thinking of designing my entire senior project around you, did you know?”

  “Obviously I didn’t.” I tried not to sound as surprised as I felt. “This is the first time you’re telling me. What senior project?”

  “For Creative Industries. I’m doing a new clothing line for the school’s winter showcase at the end of the year. It’ll be my graduation piece. I thought I’d use your Adair star-power to boost it a little.”

  “Wow, Clarin. I’d be happy to help.”

  His work on my hair faltered, his eyes meeting mine again. There was the smallest tinge of pink in his cheeks. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I smiled. “Anything you need me to do, just let me know.”

  He slapped the hairdryer down onto the bench and swooped me into his arms, spinning me around. “You’re the best!”

  I laughed until he put me down, and then I turned back to the mirror, pulling my towel tight again. “You’re not going to leave my hair like this are you?” I indicated the still-wet side of my head.

  Clarin finished up with my hair and then lugged a big black case onto the counter, opening it to reveal layers and drawers of bottles, vials, tubes, sponges and brushes. He set a stool by the counter and I sat, sifting through the items in the case in an attempt to recognise something. I found foundation tubes and powder compactors, mascara and eyeliners before Clarin smacked my hands away.

  “Clarin! Seph!” Cabe called out from the bedroom.

  “In here!” Clarin answered, pulling out a tube of moisturiser and tapping it against his fingers.

  The bathroom door swung open and Cabe stepped through, two bags dangling from his fingers.

  “Dude.” Cabe dropped the bags, his eyes dragging over my towel and down my legs. “I leave you alone with her for one afternoon!”

  Noah appeared behind him, his mouth clinching into a hard line.

  “Oh yeah,” I said, my voice low. “Clarin’s bisexual, didn’t you guys know?”

  Clarin forced a sheepish look onto his handsome features.

  Noah made a sound deep in his throat and then sprang at Clarin. I jumped between them, laughing too hard to stand properly—forcing Noah to pull-up short. Clarin lost it, and I slumped against the wall, clutching my towel again. Noah’s eyes switched from murderous to incredulous in the space of seconds; behind him, Cabe seemed torn between laughter and disbelief.

  “I’m sorry,” I eased out between bouts of laughter. “But seriously, Clarin’s seen worse. The most you have to be worried about is a Silence of the Lambs situation in the case that he gets too obsessive over my girly skin.”

  “It’s true,” Clarin confirmed, laughing again.

  Cabe screwed up his nose. “This is going to take a little getting used to.”

  Noah fell back a step, turning on me. “I guess it’s hard to figure out how a guy can stay gay when you’re literally standing naked in front of him.”

  “Ah,” I indicated the towel, “not naked.”

  “Almost.” Cabe said, siding with Noah.

  “My sexuality hasn’t been questioned this much since I discovered I was gay.” Clarin got over his laughter and nudged me back to the stool. “Now can you two get out? In case you haven’t noticed, Seph isn’t dressed for visitors.”

  “We noticed.” Noah bared his teeth at Clarin. “Just remember that she belongs to us, Clarin.”

  Clarin suddenly got serious, his deep green eyes growing shrewd, his features sharpening with an acute sobriety that I had never seen in him before. “Does she?” he asked, his tone deceptively light.

  Noah stilled, and I could almost see the clouds that rolled into his eyes, threatening to throw us all into a hurricane until we bent to his will from sheer force. I stood, slowly, a nauseating realisation dawning, spinning dizzily through my brain until I was forced to reach out and grab it.

  He’s seen much worse. I had said the words only minutes ago, but I was only now recognising their
significance. My eyes rounded in shock, travelling up to Clarin’s face. As if sensing the look, he turned from Noah to me, and the confirmation was there in his face; in the guilty glint of green irises, in the tremble of his lip as it hovered between his staple good-natured smirk and something that wanted to dip with apprehension.

  “You heard me, mouse. I need to see what I’m working with.” He tossed a sky-blue dress onto the bench and reached forward, tugging the shirt I wore straight up and over my head.

  I stood there, stunned into unmoving silence, realising that I’d cooperated with him out of sheer reflex. Now I quickly wound my arms around my chest and backed up. He was tilting his head, examining me, and there was nothing sexual in his expression at all. He flicked me an annoyed glance and drew my arms away from myself.

  “Cut it out, stop being shy or this will take all day. I need to see what I have to work with,” he repeated. “Off with the shorts.”

  Months.

  He had kept this secret for months.

  I grabbed Noah’s arm, my voice refusing to work. Noah took one look at me and then communicated something silently to Cabe, who stepped up and shook my shoulder.

  “What is it?”

  “He knows,” I croaked. “I only just remembered… I mean… I didn’t realise at the time…”

  Cabe pulled me into his side, his voice rumbling through his chest. “What is she talking about, Clarin?”

  “I believe she’s remembering the day we went shopping. Four months ago. That’s how long I’ve known that she was your Atmá. Silas and Miro’s Atmá too.”

  The door closed with a sharp snap and then I felt the heat of Noah’s arm against my side. “You’ve known for that long and you didn’t say anything? How did you even find out?” he asked.