Chapter 33: Earth

I leap onto the bus, the tremors in my hands only abating enough for me to text after I've put a few miles between me and Declan freaking Rosenbaum. I can’t shake the image of his face from my mind.

I text.

-HE'S HERE. COME HOME ASAP.

Jesse replies.

-ON MY WAY.

I exit the bus and walk around our apartment complex twice, searching for anyone who might be watching. When I decide it's clear, I finally go inside from the back entrance. The good thing about having very few belongings is that I can pack everything we own in less than half an hour.

After which, I obsessively watch the clock. Where’s Jesse? We need to leave. Right now.

From the time I outed myself on Terra, life has been rushing along at a hundred miles per hour. I kill Robert and he dies here. Then I’m fired. We find out Mom and Dad’s seatbelts were cut. I meet my dad and brother on Terra, after barely escaping the Followers of Amun. Jesse insists I make a friend, and I open up to Henry, who randomly offers me a job. And. . .then I see him on Terra too. Jesse lands an almost unbelievably good job, and then I’m stabbed in the heart on Terra. And finally, for the last and most awful two reveals of all, I discover someone made the police drop our parents’ murder investigation. . .and Declan is back.

I didn't want to risk Jesse getting caught before or creating renewed interest in our files. Now, though, I need to know what our status is in Washington. I can't hack the system, but I have another idea. Jesse taught me how to spoof domains. I check the website and then create a fake email address. The Spokane police department emails all end with spd for Spokane police department.

It takes a few false starts, but after a moment, I make the email address bethany [at] spd [dot] com. Jesse will be proud that I've picked up a few things, at least.

I block my number and then dial the number for social services.

“Spokane County Department of Social Services.”

“Hello. This is Bethany from Major Crimes. I need a file sent over.”

“One second. I can transfer you over to our records department.”

“Wait, wait. What's your name?”

“Tanya.” She sounds annoyed, and from her tone and brusque demeanor, I’d guess she’s underemployed. Sometimes if you let people know that you realize they're smart, they'll go above and beyond for you.

“I need a favor. I’m going to level with you, Tanya. I had a fight with the woman in records last week. She takes forever to send me everything, and I take the heat for it over here.”

“Frank?”

Rats. It's a man? “Er, no. I don't know Frank.”

“He's way better.” The woman on the other line clucks. “Trish is a pain in the tush for sure. What exactly do you need? If I can access it from my computer, I'll send it to you.”

“That would be amazing. Thanks. I'm looking for the file on a set of boy-girl siblings who went missing. We have a possible match found.”

“That’s good news.”

“Not exactly. They were found in a lake.”

The woman croons. “Oh, no, those poor dears. That's heartbreaking. What are their names?”

“Jesse and Alora Benson.” My heart leaps into my throat. Can it be this easy?

“There it is. I see their file right here under truants. Oh, I hope it's not them. Or is it better if it is?” She pauses. “I pulled up their photos. They're beautiful children. If they'd only have come back to us, we might have been able to help. Three years can make a real difference, you know?”

I feel something blocking me from speaking. Why didn't anyone we met in person have any sympathy for us? We might not have had to run. I clear my throat. “Doubtful. They were probably too far gone. Beauty often covers untold hidden issues.”

“Oh my, it does say they robbed and assaulted a volunteer at their group home before they ran away.”

I'm furious it was recorded like that, but I’m not really surprised. I did swipe the money, but I didn't assault anyone. “If you can email it to me directly, that would be wonderful.”

“I was initiating the download to the server. Isn't that easier? I think we're supposed to, for privacy reasons.”

“Our server's down today. That's why I'm calling from the lobby phone.”

“I wondered why your number didn't come up. It's so frustrating that these things keep going down. Unfortunately, I'm not supposed to email files like this. The Act is pretty clear.”

I suppress my frustration. I'm so close, if I can just convince her. “The children's Aunt is here,” I whisper into the phone. “She's been waiting for hours already. We need the dental records to confirm, seeing as how they were found in the lake. I'd hate to make her wait until the server comes back up. Who knows when that will be?”

“I see why you didn't want to deal with Trish,” the woman giggles. “She's a horrible stickler. It's not like you're asking for bank records or something. Why don't you give me your email address?”

I do.

“Alright, Bethany, it's sent. I hope it's not them, but I guess sometimes it's better to know.”

“It is, thanks.” As someone who's been mucking her way through life for seventeen years with no answers, it's always better to know.

I check my phone. Nothing from Jesse. Where is he? I text him again. His lack of response is making me even more jittery.

I open the file and start reading. There's a wealth of information, but it's not very well categorized. Dental records, vaccinations, and a long list of medical information on me. The prescriptions alone take up several pages, but they would have been condensable to a single line if you excluded the ones I hid under my tongue and spit out, or when I had a little more freedom, traded to other kids.

I finally reach something interesting. We lived with my aunt for two years after my parents died. Apparently she had to fill out reports on our progress for social services. At first I'm skimming, but something bothers me. She writes down all the right things, but the way she says them is odd. I can't quite pinpoint what bugs me at first. For instance, in one entry she says, “Alora loves punk rock. I find the screaming and discordant sounds disturbing. My sister certainly never encouraged that kind of thing, but there’s no telling what she might have inherited.”

What does she mean, might have inherited? Is there something I was never told about my parents? My grandparents? My father’s family? A few months later, she writes, “Jesse absolutely hates any kind of green vegetable. I'm so sick of fighting with him about what we're eating. I'll frequently find that he's somehow sneaked the food into the garbage and let me believe he ate it. This kind of dishonesty is patently unacceptable. Sometimes I wonder whether my sister’s empathy was a huge mistake.”

Empathy? A mistake? What kind of mistake does she mean? Having kids at all? Upsetting people and somehow getting herself killed?

Or something else?

For the first time. . .I wonder whether we're biologically related to Aunt Trina. I think about how Duncan looks nothing like our Dad here, and how Jesse's my brother in both places. I shake my head. I wish for the millionth time that I understood the connection between Earth and Terra. It’s not like I can use that as evidence with Jesse—especially now that he thinks my dreams are the result of some kind of repressed trauma.

I keep reading. In the last report from my Aunt, she complains about my appearance. It's nothing new, so I'm skimming. . . until something she says clicks.

“I don't even understand how anyone ever believed these were Debra's kids. She and Peter both have pale blonde hair, straight as a pin. These kids with their dark hair and curls don't even look like them, not a lick.”

To be fair, my dad didn't have much hair. I always figured our dark coloring came from his side, the Benson relatives, but obviously our aunt had some information we didn't. Adoption would explain a lot. My aunt's indifference to us, for one. The feeling I always had that our parents loved us, but weren't quite as dedicated to us as they could've been. I know many parents love their adopted children just like they love their own. I'm not trying to say they can't.

It's just, it never felt like mine did.

I remember many things from before my parents died, but I don't remember being hugged. I don't remember being told “I love you.” I don't remember being rocked or sung to sleep. I was always clean, fed, and on time for school. I was taught the things I needed to learn, and I had a roof over my head, but the only one who ever fed my soul was Jesse.

He loves me and always has.

He takes care of me, and I take care of him.

But our parents? Not really.