Katie McGarry - Say You'll Remember Me

Hendrix

“Let me make sure I have this correct.” Cynthia leans forward, places her elbows on the table and has this starry-eyed take-me-to-bed expression that’s going to get me into trouble. So far, my brother isn’t nibbling the bait, but I don’t have much luck left. Axle hooking up with someone involved in my future won’t do me any favors.

“You’ve taken on custody of not only Hendrix, but your younger sister, as well?”

Axle is in the folding chair next to me, and he draws his long legs in as she edges farther in his direction. Cynthia introduced herself as my “handler” when we arrived ten minutes ago for the press conference. She’s in a pink dress top, black pants and suit coat, and she’s good-looking. Not as beautiful as Elle, though. Not as charismatic either.

My lips slightly edge up at remembering the fire in her eyes when she described her idea of taking out those guys with a baseball. I almost stepped back because I wanted to see her do it.

Have to admit, the girl put the fear of God into me. She had the most intimidating blue eyes. Eyes that made my heart pound, eyes that made me feel like she saw past my skin and into every crack, crevice and shadow. Eyes that made me feel alive. Eyes that also made me want to hide.

Girls like that are one in a billion. Shots with girls like that are even rarer. Another tally mark in the column of things I lost.

Cynthia laughs too loudly, and my brother and I share a side-eye-what-the-hell because Axle’s comment about feeling too young to be a dad wasn’t funny.

For the fifth time since I put on the white button-down shirt, black dress pants and tie, I pull at the collar. Between the humidity and the pressure at my neck, I feel like I’m choking. The convention center is air-conditioned, but there’s also a thousand people worth of body heat.

We’re sitting at a table near center stage. When Axle and I first got here, a group of kids were tap-dancing. They’ve left, so have their parents, and now reporters with cameras are preparing for the press conference. Time feels like it’s speeding up while my thoughts are slowing down.

“Yes,” Axle says to bring the conversation back around. “To taking on Holiday and Drix.”

“You’re so giving.” Cynthia twirls her black hair around her finger. She’s about Axle’s age, and I don’t know if it should bother me how inexperienced she acts for her job. Flirting with the older brother of the person you’re in charge of should be at the top of the Don’t Do playbook. “Not many people would give up so much of their life for their family.”

I can’t argue with that, but I’d still like her to leave us alone.

“How does your girlfriend feel about all this?”

Axle’s chair squeaks when he scoots back. “I’m single.”

“I didn’t know. Sorry.” Cynthia appears anything but sorry as she scribbles a few notes. “I know you said your father is out of the picture. How about Hendrix’s mother?”

“They both gave custody to me,” Axle says.

“I’m aware, but are they both out of the picture?”

“Legally,” Axle answers, and I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He and I haven’t talked about my mom or our dad yet. I haven’t heard from Mom since my first month in juvie. Odds are she’s drinking away her problems. That’s where she was before I moved in with her, and where she was while I lived with her. Can’t imagine that’s changed. For Dad—Axle, Holiday and I have never been more than playmates for when he was alone and bored.

“Legally?” Raised eyebrow on her part.

“They won’t be problems.”

Satisfied with the answer, she moves on. “Do you want to run through what you’re going to say again, Hendrix?”

I didn’t want to go through it the first time. “No.”

Cynthia’s cell vibrates. She checks the message then lands her narrowed gaze on me. “You say exactly what’s on that sheet. Feel free to read from it onstage. No one expects you to have it memorized. We will open it up to the press, and I have two reporters who have agreed to ask my questions. I have a few prepared answers typed up for you. Memorize those so you can rattle them off. Those I don’t want you to read from the paper.”

Axle frowns. “That happens? People are okay with you prepping the media?”

She waves his question away. “It’s not something we do often, but we do want to seem transparent with this program. With Hendrix only being seventeen, we have two reporters who agreed to take it easy on him and ask simple questions. Oh, and, Axle, make sure you give me Hendrix’s cell number.”

“I don’t have a cell,” I say.

“I know.” A bat of her eyelashes at Axle. “The moment you get it, Axle, I need that number. I have to be able to reach Hendrix to give him plans. But, of course, I’ll use your cell in the meantime. And, Hendrix?”

Axle’s phone pings, and a dark shadow crosses his face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask in a low tone. Cynthia’s close enough to hear, but she’s not included in this conversation.

Axle slides his cell to me. The text is from Dominic: Holiday’s boyfriend showed.

Fantastic. Last I checked, the ass wasn’t invited. “Go.”

“Drix,” Axle starts, but I shake my head.

“Go. I’m good.” My sister is more important than being grilled by my handler.

There’s a pout to Cynthia’s mouth, and she gives sad eyes when she tells my brother goodbye. Cynthia watches him leave, and when she turns back to me, she giggles over some joke no one told. It all seems forced, and it places me on edge. I drum my fingers on the table.

“You know Marcus would have been a better fit for your poster child. He was the real leader.” I don’t know why I say it other than it’s the truth. Marcus was my best friend through this past year’s entire ordeal.

Cynthia regards me with interest, as if she’s shocked I might have something intelligent to add to any conversation. “The position of spokesperson came down to you and Marcus, but the governor and his team believed you would be the better fit.”

“He was the real leader.”

“You became one, as well.”

“I only became one because he pushed me to be better.”

She flips her cell phone in her hand as she weighs our conversation. “The home life you have returned to is more stable than his. We believe that means you have a better shot of being successful in your return to society. It doesn’t mean Marcus won’t be successful, but it will be a tougher road.”

“Should you be telling me this?” I ask, if only to annoy her like she annoys me. “Doesn’t that break confidentiality?”

“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”

True story. Marcus and I became tight, and the program’s aware of this, even commenting on it several times. Thinking of him causes a sense of uneasiness, as if I’m unbalanced. I haven’t heard from him yet. Yeah, it hasn’t been long, but after talking to someone day in and day out for a year, I miss him.

“So I spoke with your therapist from the program,” she says, “and he told me how you floated the idea of applying for the youth performing arts program at Henderson High School as part of your reentry strategy.”

Oddly enough, there’s a silver lining to Holiday’s boyfriend showing—I never told Axle of my plans to apply to the youth performing arts program for my senior year. I haven’t told him yet that there’s a scrap of me that’s considering applying for college. Before the arrest, my entire life was living one high to the next. No future. Just living in that minute. Going wherever my emotions dictated.

“You know this is a private high school, correct?”

I nod.

“You’re hoping for one of the scholarship spots?”