52. Not My Secret To Tell

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I really, really hate Simon.

Because now, sitting in the car with my brothers was no longer a cute, fun little family thing. Now it was a warzone. An interrogation.

I was being interrogated. 

Who was he? Where did we meet? How long have we been dating for? Have you kissed? What's his blood type? Is his sister hot? Does he play a sport? Where did he transfer from? Why didn't you tell us?

I fucking hate Simon. 

The interrogation continued until we were in the theater, waiting for Godzilla to start. 

If this was Simon's revenge, however, it was much tamer than I expected it to be. I thought he would try and kill me, not embarrass me in front of my brothers.

It all made me a little nervous, y’know? From what I knew of Simon, he wasn’t tame. He wasn’t one to swear revenge and not go one-hundred-percent.

But I didn’t like to dwell.

So instead I focused on the movie.

Now I am not a sentimental person. By nature, I don’t cry at movies. Disney movies are my weakness and so, apparently, is Godzilla. Because when that monster was lying in the wreckage, looking dead, I had to stifle my sobs.

I was glad that Simon didn’t kill me or attack my vulnerable brothers. And I was only now realizing just how vulnerable they really were.

I could see it at swim practice, whenever we ran or did abs. I was stronger than the other people on my team. Even my brothers were weaker than I was. And I could only guess that my newfound strength was a result of the experiment that I had become.

After Godzilla was over, we went our separate ways. I had to run to the library, and Seth and Cody wanted to go straight home.

I didn’t expect to run into Tony at the library. Honestly, sometimes the fact that he could even read surprised me.

But I did run into him.

He looked just as surprised to see me, almost dropping his books. I knew how awkward it must be, and nodded a hello before trying to walk past him.

I didn’t get far before he grabbed my arm and stopped me.

“Lia, wait,” he said, a little loudly.

“What’s up?” I whispered, pushing him back towards a less busy section.

“I just… I wanted to apologize,” he said, looking a little bashful. “I shouldn’t have been such a dick.”

Part of me was still angry. But then there was the forgiving part of me, that part that accepted Seth and Cody’s apology for six and a half years of neglect. That part of me was warm and smiling, so I was warm and smiling.

“I forgive you,” I told him. “Does this mean that you’re coming back to the Freaks?”

“I mean…” He rubbed at the back of his head, spiking his hair further. “If you guys want me back.”

“Of course we want you back, Tony,” I grinned. “Emily’ll be ecstatic.”

He blushed darkly and grinned a little wider. “So she told you?”

“I’m happy for you,” I insisted, leaning a shoulder against the bookshelf. “But if you hurt her or call her insane I will have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” Tony shrugged and smiled. “And, y’know, I appreciate you keeping my secret.”

“What secret?” There were too many secrets in my life to keep track of.

“The rest of my story?” Tony looked timid now. “Back in the cage, when we were doing that stupid get-to-know each other thing, and I didn’t tell my entire story? Thank you for not telling anyone.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell,” I shrugged. “But I think you should be honest with the others.”

“Maybe,” Tony looked at the ground, seemingly lost in thought. I turned to walk away, but his voice stopped me. “Isn’t it your birthday next week?”

I was surprised that he knew that. Maybe Tony wasn’t such a self-centered bastard.

“Yeah, October thirteenth.” I smiled and hugged my books to my chest. “Why?”

“I dunno. I have to get you something, don’t I?” Tony looked uncomfortable, and I remembered how little money he had.

“Nah,” I shook my head. “Unless you’ve got a coupon for a free de-winging, I’m all set.” I waved, and then I checked out the two books that I had grabbed before Tony had come back into my life.

When you love someone, really, truly love them with all of your heart and soul, there isn’t anything that you won’t do for them. Tony was an example of this. A thirteen-year-old boy who had a baby brother and sister to raise, who needed money to eat every week. Barely a teenager, and selling himself to older, desperate people an hour at a time. Selling his body, his soul, so that his siblings could eat every night.

But that wasn’t my secret to tell.

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