Page 29 of Saving Sparrow
“Really?” I turned to Elliott. He’d never traveled beyond the woods and the backyard with us.
“Really,” he replied, tossing the ball in the air and catching it.
“Who knows?” Quentin started. “Maybe he’ll try out for the team this fall.” His tone was playful, but Elliott answered anyway.
“I’d rather just play here with you.”
Quentin did what he always did when feeling happy or sad or angry or any other emotion he couldn’t figure out. He tackled Elliott to the ground, laughing and rolling around with him.
Quentin brought out the kid in Elliott. It had nothing to do with football itself. They could’ve been running relay races, hula hooping, orplaying Simon Says. Elliott liked to play, as if he’d never been allowed to before.
Quentin jumped to his feet before racing to the edge of the yard and disappearing behind a shrub. Elliott and I exchanged worried glances. Before we could make a run for the house, Quentin reappeared with a loaded Super Soaker.
We scrambled to our feet, bumping into each other and falling before getting back up again. We weren’t fast enough and ended up drenched by the time we exploded into the kitchen.
The dishes were piled high, and the garbage needed to go out, as Quentin had told Olga to take some time off, promising to deal with his dad if he had a problem with it. Elliott was freer with no one but us around. He laughed louder, and he no longer changed back into his “boy clothes” just to do something simple like go to the kitchen. He wouldn’t step foot outside in the frilly things he preferred to wear, but here—in this house—he was safe to be himself. Even if he still prayed about it.
We showered and did what teenage boys had done since forever: ate cereal and junk food in place of real food.
The doorbell rang. Quentin and I gave each other stupefied expressions before we all headed to the front of the house. The bell only rang for food and package deliveries, and we hadn’t ordered anything.
My stepfather wouldn’t ring the bell either. Besides, he wouldn’t show up so soon after popping in and out without being noticed by us weeks ago.
The woman waiting beyond the glass doors wore all black, and matching oversized sunglasses swallowed her tiny face.
Amelia.
Elliott froze as soon as she came into view.
“Um, should we let her in?” I asked. She was staring right at us now.
“Fuck no,” Quentin said. “Elliott doesn’t want her here.”
That much was obvious, but we couldn’t just ignore her. And besides, we needed to leave the house for Quentin’s practice soon. Even if we left out the back, she’d see us the moment we rounded the house for the garage.
Elliott stood still as a statue.
“I’m gonna let her in. She probably just wanted to let you know she was back from her trip.”
She’d finally gotten Elliott a phone, but he never had it on him, not even at night when we called it. He’d said he wasn’t used to having one, but I thought he was careless with it on purpose.
I let her into the foyer, saying hello. Quentin had taken a protective stance near Elliott, his larger body angled slightly in front of him. He skipped the polite “hi, nice to meet you” part. Amelia didn’t seem to care. She hadn’t even returned my greeting.
Her heels clicked against the marble as she approached where Quentin and Elliott waited by the stairs. She didn’t even glance at Quentin.Everyoneglanced at him; he was too large to miss.
“Nephew.” The word was loaded with ice. “Duncan told me I might find you here.”
“I didn’t know you were coming back today,” Elliott said in that low, defeated voice he used when we first met. I hated her immediately for it.
“Surprise,” she said, her smile just as cold as her words. Elliott shared her sparkly blue eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. “I had to cut my trip short after unsuccessfully trying to reach you for days.”
“Maybe if you didn’t leave him alone for days, that wouldn’t have been a problem,” Quentin bit out, unafraid of a little confrontation—especially not when defending someone he cared about. He was like that with me and had been the same way with my mother too. He was too small and too young to put into action his defense of us then. Not anymore.
For the first time since arriving, Amelia looked Quentin up and down, unfazed by his size or lethal tone. She turned her attention back to Elliott, dismissing Quentin without a word.
“I was told you missed three appointments with Dr. Adler. Duncan said he came by to pick you up as scheduled each time, but you weren’t home.” She looked around the house then, taking in what she could from the foyer. “So, this is where you’ve been wasting your time.”
“The only one wasting their time is you if you think you’re gonna force him to leave,” Quentin said.
