SCARLETT

I can’t stay here much longer. What if the other hunters find me?

Look at what I have become. They won’t spare me.

BENJAMIN

You must come home. We can protect you there.

SCARLETT

But who will protect you from me?

Thirteen

As soon as I was back in my car in the parking lot, I picked up the phone and called my mom.

“Hello, Lace,” she answered. “How are you?”

Between the fight with my dad, being back at high school again, and discovering my tutor was a critic who might one day trash my movie, I was feeling very low. “I’m okay.”

“Thanks for sending Abby and Cooper over the other day. That was so nice. I got to run some much-needed errands.”

“I’m glad it worked out.” I had forgotten I’d asked Abby to do that. I had the best friends ever. “So I have the rest of the day and tomorrow off. I was thinking about driving up to see you and the littles tonight.” It was only noon. I’d be there by four and could have twenty-four hours with my family. It sounded like exactly what I needed—my mom.

“Yes, you should come!”

“Okay, I will. See you in a little bit.” I sent my dad a text and didn’t wait for an answer. I didn’t need permission to see my mom. The fact that I didn’t go home to pack had nothing to do with not believing that.

I was so excited that the four hours it took to drive home felt like four hundred hours. The Central Coast was cooler than LA, and as I finally reached my neighborhood, I rolled down the windows and took a breath of fresh coastal air. I was surprised at the lump rising in my throat as I parked the car and hopped out.

My mom was waiting for me on the porch, and she came running down the walk when I stepped out of the car. She looked as beautiful as ever with her dark hair and even darker eyes. We collided into a hug. I held on longer than normal.

“I’ve missed you,” she said.

“You too.” I stepped back and moved toward the door.

“Didn’t you bring anything?” she asked, gesturing toward the car.

I cleared my throat and waved my hand through the air like it wasn’t a big deal. “No, I left a lot of my stuff here because it doesn’t fit at dad’s.”

“I know. It’s just . . .”

I was worried my dad had called and tattled on me, so I rushed on, not wanting another fight. “Where are Colby and Syd? I’m dying to see them.”

“They’ve made you a special treat.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Try to choke down a little, at least. We’ll throw the rest away when they aren’t looking.”

“I’m scared,” I said.

“You should be.”

The house felt the same but different when I walked inside. The same paintings hung on the wall. The same bench and kids’ shoes scattered the entryway. But it felt bigger. Much bigger than I remembered. I assumed this was the result of a month in a small apartment.

My mom kicked a stuffed animal out of the way and said, “Guess who’s home!”

My brother and sister came tearing out of whatever corner they’d been hiding in, and each grabbed an arm. “Lace! Lace!” they yelled.

“Hi, guys. I missed you. Have you each grown a foot since I was gone?” This was why adults said this. I now understood.

“We made you a salad!” Sydney said.

“A salad?” I raised an eyebrow at my mom.

“I told them you’d given up sweets for a couple of months.”

“How thoughtful,” I said.

They dragged me into the kitchen, where a bowl full of what looked like everything they could find in the fridge sat on the counter. “Am I going to get salmonella if I eat this?” I asked my mom under my breath.

“I think it’s mostly fresh,” she answered back.

“So comforting.”

“I’ll put the ranch on it for you,” Sydney said, retrieving it from the fridge.

As she poured it on my salad, coating each and every item in the bowl, Colby said, “We got a cat! It lives in your room!”

“Colby,” my mom said sharply. “That was going to be a surprise.”

My head whipped over to my mom. “What?”

“I know, I know, you’re not a fan of animals. But you weren’t here, and it’s good for the kids to learn responsibility, and it’s really cute.”

“So you got a kitten?”

“It’s not a kitten,” Mom said. “It’s a rescue cat.”

My sister pushed the salad across the island to where I stood. My stomach flipped. I wasn’t sure if it was from the smell of ranch that now overpowered me or the thought of a cat living in my room.

“Does it sleep on my bed?” I asked.

“We put a cat bed in the corner,” Mom said, which didn’t answer my question. She pulled a fork out of the drawer and handed it to me. “Eat up.”

Three very ranchy bites later I crept my way down the hall. So what? A cat lived in my room. It couldn’t be that bad. People liked cats for a reason. It couldn’t be their constant shedding or sharp skin-piercing claws, so something else.

I opened the door, and the smell hit me first. Some sort of urine mixed with Lysol. People absolutely couldn’t like animals for their smell.

“I haven’t had a chance to clean the litter box in a couple of days. It’s Syd’s job, but I usually double-check,” Mom said, following behind me. “But I did vacuum when you called. Pepper hates the vacuum.”

“Who?”

“The cat.”

“The cat’s name is Pepper?”

“Yes, she came with that name. Come here, kitty, kitty,” Mom said, walking around me and into the room. “She takes a while to warm up to a new person. Also she likes to jump out at legs when you walk by.”

My mom continued to talk, but I was busy looking at my room that wasn’t my room anymore. It was a cat haven. There was some sort of tower in the corner, rope was tied around each of the legs of my bed, creating scratching posts, a plastic mat with a litter box on top was tucked beside my dresser, and cat toys were scattered all over my bed. In my closet, my beautiful closet, all my clothes and shoes were gone, replaced by stacks of boxes. I couldn’t decide if I was more angry or sad.

My mom must’ve noticed my gaze because she said, “Pepper was batting at your hanging clothes and she peed on a pair of shoes, so I decided to pack away everything in your closet.”

“Why do people like animals again?” I mumbled.

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. We were just getting the cat used to the house. She has trust issues, and they said it would be good to keep her in one room for a while and slowly introduce her to the rest of the house, and your room, seeing as how it was empty, seemed like the best option. She doesn’t really like people.”

“You adopted a cat that doesn’t like people?”

“She has the potential to like people. She wasn’t treated very well in her last house. Are you mad? You’re mad.”

My mom looked so stressed, and my siblings had seemed genuinely excited about this, so I said, “No, of course not. I’m only here for one night.”