The Evolution of Mara Dyer (Mara Dyer, #2)

by Michelle Hodkin

If I truly loved him, she said, I would let him go. I wished I loved him enough.

“Jude is here.” Daniel swallowed and then asked carefully, “In the room?” I shot him a glare. “No, you ass. In Florida. In Miami.”

Lmao

“See his hands?” I nodded. “Jude wouldn’t have any. His hands were all they found.”

Omg

“What you’re going through,” she said, clearly avoiding the words mental illness, “can be caused by biological and genetic factors.” “But who in our family has had any kind of—” “My mother,” she said quietly. “Your grandmother.”

“She killed herself, Mara.” I sat there, momentarily stunned. Not only had I never known, but . . . “I thought—I thought she died in a car accident?” “No. That’s just what we said.”

The next few seconds felt like forever. “You had me when you were twenty-six.” “She killed herself when you were three days old.”

Woah

“When I was little, my mother would sometimes ask me if I could do magic.” A sad smile appeared on her lips. “I thought she was just playing. But as I grew older, she would ask every now and then if I could do anything ‘special.’ Especially once I was a teenager. I had no idea what she meant, of course, and when I asked her, she would tell me that I would know, and to tell her if anything changed.”

Mara has it

“She would think she was responsible for things she couldn’t possibly be responsible for,” my mother said. “And she was superstitious—she was wary of certain numbers, I remember; sometimes she’d take care to point them out. And when I was around your age, she became very paranoid.

Sketchbook paper. My fingers identified the texture immediately, and my heartbeat quickened as I unfolded it, revealing the picture I gave Noah, of Noah, weeks ago at Croyden. And on the back were just three words, but they were the most beautiful words in the English language: I believe you.

Wtf how

I couldn’t stop my smile. “What is it with you and girls’ bathrooms?” I asked, watching his eyes. The corner of his mouth lifted. “That is a fair question. In my defense, they’re much cleaner than boys’ bathrooms, and they do seem to be everywhere.”

“What did you do?” I said over the noise as he backed up toward the bathroom door. “The girl who gave you the note?” “Yes . . .” “I caught her staring at my lighter.” I blinked. “You gave a child, in a psych ward, a lighter.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “She seemed trustworthy.” “You’re sick,” I said, but smiled. “Nobody’s perfect.” Noah smiled back.

Her wide red lips pulled back to reveal a flawless smile. “I hear you’re going home,” she said. “Looks that way,” I said back, careful not to sound too smug. “Good luck to you, Mara.” “Thanks.” But then she didn’t leave. She just stood there, watching me. Awkward.

Wtf

“Mr. Dyer,” he said to my father, “you’re looking quite well.” “Thank you, Noah,” my Dad said. “That gift basket you brought kept me from starving. The hospital food nearly killed me.” Noah’s eyes met mine before he answered, “Then I’m thrilled to have saved your life.”

Literally he did

“The people we care about are always worth more to us than the people we don’t. No matter what anyone pretends.”

“It’s not just me,” I said, as my heart began to pound. “He was wearing a watch, the same one you saw in your—in your—” Vision, I thought. But I couldn’t quite say it out loud. “He had the same watch as Lassiter,” I said instead. “The same one.” I met Noah’s eyes. “What are the chances?” Noah was quiet for a moment. Then said, “You think he took Joseph.” It wasn’t a question, but I nodded in assent.

So I spoke instead. “You think he’s like us?” “That, or the remains they found weren’t his.”

But Noah spoke with affection. “You like them,” I realized. Noah’s eyebrows lifted in question. “Like, as people.” “As opposed to . . . furniture?” “They’re my parents.” “That is my understanding, yes.” I made a face. “It’s weird.”

“Well, if you’re worried about your mother showing me your most embarrassing childhood pictures, don’t be.” Thank God. “I’ve already seen them.” Damn it.

“It’s my way of telling you that I can’t bear to look at my bed without seeing you in it,”

“Ladies first,” Jamie said with a little bow. I looked up at the ceiling as I thought about what to say. “PTSD,” I decided finally. “A few hallucinations here and there. Nothing to write home about. You?” “Oh, my parents were persuaded that it would be a wise preemptive measure to send me here before I shot up a school.” He dropped onto the bench.

Lmao

“I actually saw Anna last week when my mom dragged me to Whole Foods. She didn’t even recognize me.” “Did you say anything to her?” “I politely suggested she drive off a cliff.”

He looked back and forth between Jamie and me. “We’re ready for you, Mara.” Jamie stood. “And I’m going to be late for electroshock therapy!” Then he faced me and said with a wink, “See you ’round, Mara Dyer.” He saluted Mr. Robins, turned on his heel, and left.

“Got anything else in your pockets, Mara?” I blinked. “Um, string or nothing?” “Excuse me?” I raised my eyebrows. “The Hobbit?” He looked concerned. “A what?” “It’s a book,” my father piped up. He met my gaze and winked. Mr. Robins looked from my father to me. “You have a book in your pocket?” I tried very hard not to sigh. “There’s nothing in my pockets, is what I meant.”

“What’s with the face?” he asked. “Was I making one?” “You were looking all wistful-like.” “Just a touch of déjà vu.” Jamie nodded slowly. “I know. It’s like we just did this.”

“Phoebe’s the psycho,” he said, when she walked in. “Tara’s the klepto, Adam’s the sadist, and Megan’s the ’phobe.”

Phoebe slid into the seat next to me and I was distracted by the smell of her breath in my face. She slipped a folded piece of paper into my lap. A love letter, perhaps? Could I be so lucky? I opened it. Not a love letter. Not a letter at all. The piece of paper was a picture of me, lying in my bed. In the pajamas I wore last night. I faced the camera, but you couldn’t see my eyes. They’d been scratched out.

Wtf

“We did not, in fact, go fishing,” Noah answered, still squinting at the screen. “What? Why?” Joseph rocked forward, gripping his controller fiercely. He didn’t speak. “Joseph didn’t want to kill any fish, though he seems to have no problem killing—you bastard.”

“It wasn’t Jude,” Noah said quietly. “What wasn’t Jude?” “The doll in your bedroom. He didn’t put it there.” I blinked, not getting it. “Then who did?” It felt like forever before Noah finally spoke. “You.”

Wtf is happening

“Don’t you still smoke?” “Not around your parents,” Noah said, still rummaging. “But yes.”

Noah was impossibly still as I pulled down the collar of his T-shirt. I looked at the charm around his neck, the one he never took off, and then stared back at the charm in his hand. They were exactly the same.

“I was just going to say it reminds me of the symbols on a family crest.” Noah stopped mid-stride, and turned very slowly. “We’re not related.” “I know, but—” “Don’t even think it.”

“In any case,” he said, “about the pendant, at least now we know that at some point, your grandmother and my mother crossed paths through whoever made them. I’ll look through her things and see if I can find anything else.”

“What if I’m afraid forever?” “You won’t be.” His voice was soft, but certain. “What if I am?” “Then I’ll wait forever.”

“My family . . . isn’t the same as yours,” he said. “What do you mean?” He paused, measuring his words before he spoke. “We’re strangers who happen to live in the same house.”

“Why would you think that?” “Perhaps because she is batshit crazy, Brooke.” Jamie slow-clapped. “Jamie,” Brooke said calmly. “I’m not sure that’s productive.”

Lmao

“You must leave him.” Her words cut the air. A few seconds passed before I found my voice. “What are you talking about?” “The boy with the gray eyes. The one outside.” “Why?” I asked warily. “The boy is destined for greatness, but with you, he is in danger.

“He will die before his time with you by his side, unless you let him go. Fate or chance? Coincidence or destiny? I cannot say.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Noah said. “We know you’re a fraud, Roslyn, so please do yourself a favor and admit it.” Her head dropped, and she shook it. “That girl, I swear.” “Roslyn.” She lolled her head back, like this was some kind of giant inconvenience. “He paid me, okay?”

“What are my options?” “You could read obscure poetry while I play the triangle, I suppose. Or we can smother ourselves in peanut butter and howl at the moon. Use your imagination.”

You can’t hurt me the way you think you can. But even if you could? I would rather die with the taste of you on my tongue than live and never touch you again. I’m in love with you, Mara. I love you. No matter what you do.”

“If I were to live a thousand years, I would belong to you for all of them. If we were to live a thousand lives, I would want to make you mine in each one.”

“He laughed and said that was impossible. Unamused, I asked him why that would be.” Noah paused. “Mara, he said they bought the house from his wife’s mother, Ortal. Eighteen years ago.”

Wtffff

The scene in my mind went dark. But just when I thought the footage was over, I heard the soft lilt of laughter. Unmistakably mine.

Wutttt

“I heard the levers shriek and then ran to the doors, but they closed on my hands,” he said. His eyes studied my face. “You actually smiled at me when I turned to look at you. You smiled.”

“They think I tried to kill myself,” I said. Noah closed his eyes. For the first time ever, he looked like he was in pain. “Do you?” I asked him. The muscles in his throat worked. “No,” he said. “I saw—I saw everything. I saw Jude.”

Was that what this was? I looked up at him now and shook my head. “It’s not your fault.” “Actually,” he said with unparalleled bitterness, “it is.”

Huh how

“When you got out of bed, you said you didn’t mean to kill Rachel and Claire. But you weren’t sorry about the others. That’s what you said.”

I rounded on Phoebe once we were left alone. “Why are you lying to them?” She smiled at me.

“Stella,” I said. “She’s nice. A little moody sometimes, maybe. Why?” “I saw her,” Noah said. “Saw her—” “Someone hurt her.” His gaze dropped to my hands. “Grabbed her wrist. Nearly broke it.”

“It doesn’t matter how many we do,” Phoebe called out. “You can’t trust Mara.” Jamie began to chuckle silently. I stepped on his foot.