See How They Run (Embassy Row 2)

“No. It’s a great idea because you are my aforementioned best friend and it is summer in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.”

Noah is grinning at me, teasing, mocking just a little. He doesn’t know that he should hate me. Fear me. Pity me. I should like him for that, but in the end I can’t respect anyone who could be foolish enough to be sucked into all of my lies.

As the sun dips lower, shadows descend on Embassy Row. Noah stops, and I have no choice but to turn and face him.

I can’t help but notice he’s stopped smiling.

“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re up to something. And you’re not telling me, and that offends me. Just a little. It hurts.” Noah motions to his heart. “Right here, Grace. Right here.”

I’m almost certain he’s joking. Almost. He laughs, but then, in a flash, he’s serious again.

“You’re scaring me, Gracie. Just tell me what it is. Tell me and let me help you.”

But no one can help me. Not anymore. Not ever again.

“I’m sorry, Noah,” I say as we reach the US embassy’s gates. The marine on duty nods to us but doesn’t speak. He’s almost invisible, and Noah and I are almost alone.

“I will see you later, Grace.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you later.”

He points at me. “At Lila’s shindig, right? I’ll meet you right here. In this spot. Nine o’clock. Because you are going to go with me. We are going to be typical teenagers for a brief, three-to-six-hour window this evening.”

I can’t help myself. I laugh a little as I ease toward the gates.

“Take care, Noah.”

“I’m taking that as a yes. You heard that, Martin.” Noah points to the marine. “She said yes.”

Martin opens the gates and I step onto US soil, but Noah is still calling at me through the fence.

“I will be here, Grace. And you’d better be here, too, or else I’m storming the fences. Or” — he looks up at the imposing iron bars that surround the embassy’s grounds — “I’m going next door to Germany and getting Rosie to storm the fences! Don’t make me cause an international incident.”

Martin is laughing as I step toward the doors. When I glance back I can’t help but notice that Noah’s grin is wide and honest. He doesn’t see the truth about me because he doesn’t know where to look for it. Buried deep. Paved over. If he knew me better he might see through my facade, so I swear that Noah can never know me better. I am safe in my mother’s homeland, my grandfather’s house. Embassy Row is my new home, and I’ll be fine here as long as I’m surrounded by strangers.

I’m just starting to tell myself that it’s okay, that no one here will ever guess the truth about my mother’s society or my terrible secret, when I see the doors of the residence open and I hear a familiar voice say, “Hello, Gracie.”

The boy in front of me is not a stranger, and yet he feels like one. His hair is shorter, practically shaved. His arms are leaner, his posture better. But the hardest thing to realize is that he isn’t looking at me like he used to.

He called me Gracie.

But I am not his little sister. Not really. Not anymore. I’m the monster who killed his mother, and now both of us know it.

I knew I’d have to see Jamie eventually, but I’d assumed I’d have time to prepare, to brace myself for him lashing out, fighting back against the thing that killed his mother. I knew I was going to have to deal with this someday. I just never guessed that someday would be now.

Before I can blink, Jamie lunges for me. He’s faster than he used to be, stronger. In a flash, his arms are around my waist and my feet are off the ground. I close my eyes and feel his harder-than-I-remember shoulders beneath my hands as he spins me around and around. For a split second, I let myself forget that I’m not little — that I’m not safe. This is my big brother, the boy who slayed all my monsters. But just as soon as I’m back on the ground, I remember: The monster is me.

Guilt makes my eyes burn. I want to run and hide, but I just stand there, looking at my big brother.

“What … what are you doing here?”

Something happens when the sun sets in Adria. There comes a moment every day when the sky is clearer, the water is bluer, and the entire city looks as if it’s made of gold. It actually glows, and when my brother smiles, the honey-colored light hits him and he looks like he’s wearing a halo.

“Surprise!” On anyone else, Jamie’s smile would be cocky. But on him it’s so natural and easy that it makes me want to cry.

“What are you doing here?” I ask again.

“Do I need a reason to come visit my favorite sister?”

I’m his only sister, and that’s what I’m supposed to say. It’s my line, my joke. But I can only ask, “What about West Point?”

I can’t even imagine my father’s response should Jamie wash out. But of course that thought is preposterous. Jamie doesn’t fail. Not at anything. Not ever.

“West Point is still there,” he tells me, trying to tease, but I don’t laugh anymore. My brother, of all people, should know that.

“Why aren’t you there, Jamie?”

“Relax, Gracie. I’m on leave. We’re finished with basic, and we had a few days, so we —”

“We?” I ask just as another boy steps through the embassy’s door. It’s the one used for the ambassador and senior staff. For family. But I have never seen this boy before in my life. And yet, instantly, I know him.