“Hey, wait up. Hey!” He reaches out and grabs my sleeve, spinning me to a stop. “What the hell?”
“Get off me.”
“I’m not on you. I’m touching your sleeve.”
“Don’t touch my sleeve.”
“Why are you mad at me? I’m the one being accused of all sorts of insane shit no one would believe, no one obviously does believe.”
“Everyone I know believes it,” I say.
“Yeah, but no one outside this town, right?” One minute he’s appalled and offended. The next you can tell this is fun for him, sparring, arguing, twisting logic all around then ramming home his point. “That must be true. No one must believe you.”
“Not no one.” I sound pathetic.
“Because you said seventeen years ago.” He talks right over me. “If you had proof, everyone would know it by now.”
“The wheels of justice turn slowly,” Russell always says, my mother always repeats, and I echo now.
“Plus, now the plant’s reopening,” he reminds me.
“So?”
“So they wouldn’t risk doing it again. If they’re reopening the plant, they must know everything’s fine. They must know everything’s been fine all along.”
“Oh, I see now,” I say. “I get it too.”
“Get what?”
“Why you’re saying all this.”
“Because it’s obviously true? Because you besmirched my honor?”
“Because you’re just like your grandfather.” Besmirched his honor? Who is this kid? “Evil must run in your family.”
“And crazy must run in yours.”
“We might be crazy,” I admit, “but it’s not hereditary if you’ve been poisoned.”
His mouth is open, silent. His hands are open, disbelieving. But the rest of him is closed as a walnut, his face shut against all I’ve told him, all I am, all of us.
He doesn’t want to walk next to me. He doesn’t want to follow behind me. But he doesn’t know where he’s going. So he walks ten feet or so to my left through the trees, off the path that’s half natural, half worn by me over the years, his foot twice sinking up to his ankle in wet mud, his clothes snagging every other step on climbing thorns he’s walked through instead of around, rainwater spilling down the back of his hoodie every time his head brushes the overgrowth, snapping twigs and branches like what you can’t see in a horror movie, the monster that’s coming, invisibly but （Petra would say） inexorably through the trees to get you.
Two
Often when Mama says she wants me to help her, it is more accurate to say she wishes I would change my personality. She will say, “Monday, I need you to help me by being a little bit more flexible about food today,” or “Monday, I need you to help me by not fighting with your sister about whether it’s necessary for her to wash her hands before washing the dishes,” or “Monday, I need you to help me by not eating twelve bowls of Corn Pops just because you want to cut the box into postcards,” and if you reply, “It is more accurate to say you need me to help you by not eating twelve bowls of Corn Pops mostly because I want to cut the box into postcards but also because they are yellow,” she will point out that this also is not helping her.
But today, after River leaves with Mab, Mama says, “Monday, I need you to help me by working your librarian magic.”
And that means she really does need my help.
“Maybe River Templeton is wrong. Maybe River Templeton doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Most teenagers aren’t as smart as the three of you, you know.” Mama is making her voice sound jolly, but I look at her face and even I can see it is pretend. “But just in case, let’s see what we can find out.”
“Just in case what?” I ask.
“Just in case River’s on to something.”
“Find out about what?”
“Belsum’s plans.”
“How will you do that?” I wonder.
“By asking the librarian.” Mama kisses the top of my head, even though I do not like germs or touching. “Even if it’s bad news, better to know. Knowledge is power. See what you can find, love. Mirabel and I have to go to work.”
Mama always says that—“Knowledge is power”—but she also says knowledge is depressing, demoralizing, soul crushing, mad making, and despair inducing, so I do not know if it is worth it. She says knowledge is power, but she also says there is such a thing as knowing too much as well as such a thing as too much power, depending on whose. Mama says knowledge is power but only if what you know is actually true.