Because It Is My Blood

IV I AM SURPRISED; I AM SURPRISED AGAIN

FRIDAY NIGHT, I was planning to stay in, but Scarlet insisted that I come out with her and Gable. “You haven’t gone out once since you’ve been back from Liberty,” she said to me on the ride home from school. “You can’t spend the rest of your life at home with Natty and Imogen. We’ll get dressed up and go to one of our old places. How about your cousin Fats’s?”

There was nowhere I wanted to go less except possibly Little Egypt.

“Or maybe you’d prefer Little Egypt?” Scarlet asked.

“Fats’s is fine,” I said.

“I thought you’d say that. Meet us there at eight. And, Anya?” she added just before we parted, “Don’t wear your school uniform!”

Around seven thirty, I changed per Scarlet’s instructions, then took a bus downtown.

“Hey, kid,” Fats greeted me. “Your friends are in the back room.”

Fats had lost quite a bit of weight since I’d last seen him. “You’re skinny,” I said.

“Gave up sugar,” he informed me.

“Cacao, too?”

“No, never cacao, Annie.”

“Maybe we should stop calling you Fats.”

“Nah, it’s got a nice bit of irony now.”

I went into the back room.

“Surprise!”

The place was packed, and it took me a second to realize I knew everyone there. Scarlet, Gable, Natty, Imogen, Mickey and Sophia Balanchine, Mr. Kipling and his wife, Simon Green, Chai Pinter, and several other of my classmates. Even Alison Wheeler was there, though she had come solo.

As you already know, I was a fan neither of surprise parties nor of parties in particular. Still, I could not help but appreciate that so many people had come out for me. Scarlet came up and kissed me on the cheek. “What kind of best friend would I be if I let you come back to Trinity without a party?”

I made the rounds, talking to everyone, thanking them for having shown up.

“Win really wanted to come,” Alison Wheeler whispered in my ear.

In the back of the room, a bit separate from everyone else, stood Mickey and Sophia Balanchine. They were talking to a third person. How could I not have noticed him before?

“Yuji Ono!” I exclaimed, throwing my arms around him in a manner I’m not entirely sure was dignified or appropriate. But, well, he had saved my brother’s life.

He smiled at me in his shy way.

“What are you doing here?”

“Business, of course,” he said.

“Had you returned any of my calls, you would have known this,” Mickey Balanchine remonstrated me.

Yuji Ono gave me a look. I could tell he was disappointed in me.

“It took me longer to resolve my high school situation than I would have liked,” I explained. Even as I was saying this, I knew how pathetic it sounded.

I turned to Yuji Ono. I wanted to ask about my brother but not in front of Mickey and Sophia. “Will you come see me at the apartment tomorrow?”

“I don’t know if I will have the time,” he said. “I am only in town for three days and my schedule is inflexible.”

“I could come see you, then. Where are you staying?”

“I will try to come to you,” Yuji said coolly. It annoyed me that he didn’t trust me enough to tell me where he was staying when I had trusted him with my whole life.

“Give the child a break, Yuji,” Sophia teased him.

I didn’t like being referred to as a child. “Come or don’t come,” I said. I turned to Mickey. “How is your father?”

“Any day now,” Mickey said glumly. Sophia took his small hand in her large one.

I thanked the three of them for coming and then I went to talk to Simon Green, who had not managed to integrate himself into the rest of the party.

“You look utterly miserable,” I said to him.

Simon Green laughed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Mine neither,” I said. “What’s your reason?”

Simon Green took off his glasses and wiped them on his sleeve. “I’m afraid I had a very lonely childhood. Never got used to being with people.”

“The opposite for me. Everything was too crowded. Middle-child syndrome I think they call it.”

Simon Green nodded toward the corner of the room. “Is that Yuji Ono?”

“Yes.” I didn’t want to talk about him.

“And who’s that?” He was pointing at Alison Wheeler, who was dancing with a girl from my history class.

“Ah, that would be my ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend. We’re friends. It’s all very grown-up and civilized.”

“Her?” Simon Green’s tone was one of utter incredulity. “We’re talking about the redheaded girl with the pixie cut?”

“Yes, her.” I paused. “Why not her?”

“Just not what I expected.” I tried to convince him to elaborate, but Simon Green would go no further.

I continued my rounds. Before I knew it, it was 11:20, and the only ones left were Scarlet and Gable. Scarlet told me to go home, but I stayed. I knew Gable wouldn’t be much help cleaning up.

“It wasn’t awful, was it?” Scarlet asked me. “You weren’t hating me the whole night?”

“Of course not, you silly duck.” I kissed Scarlet on the cheek. “No one has ever been a better and more loyal friend to me than you have.”

“How completely touching,” Gable said sarcastically. “Can we please go home now?”

I asked Scarlet if she wanted to ride the bus back with me. She informed me that she was planning to spend the night at Gable’s.

“Scarlet!” The Catholic schoolgirl in me was scandalized.

“No, it’s fine,” she insisted. “Gable doesn’t like me traveling uptown at night and his parents don’t mind if I use the spare room.”

As it was late—ten minutes until city curfew—my cousin Fats insisted that he see me back to the Upper East Side.

We were waiting for the bus when a black car pulled up to the stop. The door opened. For a second, I wondered if I was about to be shot, if this was how it was all going to end. (But we are only on page seventy-one of the second volume of my life, so surely this could not be the end.)

Fats reached into his pocket. Just in case he had to shoot, I suppose.

Yuji Ono leaned out of the car. “A ride, Anya?” I nodded to Fats to let him know I was fine and then I got in the car.

I had had several cups of coffee that night to aid in the illusion that I was in possession of a sparkly party personality. As soon as I sat down, I started feeling the effects of the caffeine in my body. My heart beat like a hummingbird’s. I was flushed, too bold, too sharp. More like Scarlet than myself. “I thought you were mad at me,” I said to him.

“I am,” he said. “Outraged.” I couldn’t tell if he was serious.

“How is my brother?” I asked.

“Very well,” Yuji promised me. “I have a present for you, but only after you tell me why you’ve been neglecting Mickey Balanchine.”

Daddy used to say that the only people who made excuses were failures. “It was harder coming back from Liberty than I thought it was going to be.”

“You mean finding a secondary school?” Yuji Ono made a face. “Why do you even need a high school diploma?”

“You would rather me be uneducated? A fool?”

“That is not what I am saying. But the things you need to learn, you cannot learn in school.”

“Every time I see you, you lecture me,” I complained.

“That is because I am counting on you, Anya. I think you will agree that I have gone to great lengths for you.”

“Of course, Yuji.”

“You are my investment.”

“I don’t belong to you though.”

The car was just passing the southeastern edge of the park. Yuji reached into his pocket. He took my hand and pried it open. On my palm, he placed a small wooden lion.

“Did Leo make this?” I asked quietly.

“Yes, he has taken up carving.”

I looked at the lion, my miniature miracle. Leo had touched this. Leo was safe. I smiled at Yuji and tried not to cry. “He’s good at this.”

I turned to thank him. I was about to kiss him on the cheek when the car passed over a pothole and I ended up kissing him on the mouth. It was not romantic in the least. His teeth knocked against mine. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was aiming for your cheek. Potholes, you know. This city!”

Yuji blushed. “I know, Anya.” He turned his dark eyes on me. “You would never try to kiss an old man like me on the lips.”

“Yuji, you’re not old,” I protested.

“Compared to you, I am.” He turned to look out the window. “Besides, I have heard that you are secretly with your old boyfriend. The politician’s son.”

I twisted in the seat. “What? That absolutely isn’t true! Who said that?”

“Mickey and Sophia suspect it.”

“They barely know me! They should keep their mouths shut.”

“You are back at your old school, are you not?” Yuji asked me.

“Only because nowhere else would have me. Yuji, it is impossible for me to be with Win. And you should know that even the suspicion of that could be disastrous for me.”

Yuji shrugged. He might have been the most infuriating person I had ever known.

“Was Sophia Bitter your girlfriend?” I asked.

Yuji smiled at me. “Is tonight the night for archaeology?”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“Mainly she was my school friend,” Yuji said after a rather long pause. “She was my best school friend.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that when we were at the wedding?” I asked.

“It wasn’t relevant.”

“Neither is my personal life then.”

We traveled up Madison Avenue in silence.

I closed my hand around the lion, letting its edges and imperfections etch themselves into my flesh. Yuji put his hand around my fist. “So you see. Our lives are interconnected.”

His hand was ice around mine, but the sensation was not entirely unpleasant.

The car stopped on East Ninetieth Street, where I lived, and I opened the car door.

“I am sorry that we argued,” he said. “I … The truth is, I see you as … part of myself. I should not, though.”

I got out of the car and went upstairs. I went into Natty’s room. She had already fallen asleep, but I woke her up anyway.

“Natty,” I whispered.

“What?” she asked drowsily.

I held out my palm so that she could see the wooden lion.

“Leo? It’s Leo, isn’t it?” Her eyes were bright and alert.

I nodded.

She took the wooden lion and kissed it on its head. “Will we ever see him again?”

I told her that I hoped so and then I went to bed myself.

I had barely slept at all when I awoke to a banging on the apartment door. “Police!”

The clock read 5:12 a.m. I pulled on my bathrobe and went to the door. I looked through the peephole. Indeed, two uniformed police officers stood there. I opened the door, but left the security chain on. “What do you want?”

“We’re here for Anya Balanchine,” one of the police officers said.

“Yes. That’s me.”

“We need you to open the door, ma’am. We’re here to take you back to Liberty,” the officer continued.

I ordered myself to stay calm. I could hear Natty and Imogen stirring in the hallway behind me. “Annie, what’s happening?” Natty asked.

I ignored her. I had to stay focused. “On what grounds?” I asked the officer.

“Violations of the terms of your release.”

“What violations?” I demanded.

The officer said that he didn’t have that information—just instructions to bring me back to Liberty. “Please, ma’am, we need you to come with us.”

I told him I would come out, but that I needed a moment to change.

“Five minutes,” the officer said.

I closed the door and walked down the hallway. I tried to consider my options. I couldn’t run; there was no other way out of the apartment, except suicide. Besides, I didn’t want to run. For all I knew, this could have been some sort of clerical error. I decided to go with the police officers and figure out the rest later. Imogen and Natty stood at the end of the hallway. Both seemed to be awaiting my instruction. “Imogen, I need you to call Mr. Kipling and Simon Green.”

Imogen nodded.

“What should I do?” Natty asked.

I kissed her on the head. “Try not to worry.”

“I’ll say a prayer for you,” Natty said.

“Thank you, sweet.”

I ran to my bedroom. I took off my necklace and changed into my school uniform. I went into the bathroom, where I took a second to brush my teeth and wash my face. I looked at myself in the mirror. You are strong, I told myself. God doesn’t give you anything that you can’t bear.

I heard more banging on the door. “It’s time!” the officer called.

I returned to the foyer, where Natty and Imogen looked at me with shell-shocked faces. “I’ll see you soon,” I said to them.

I walked to the door, unchained it, and pushed it wide open. “I’m ready,” I said.

The officer was holding a pair of handcuffs. I knew how this went. I held out my wrists.

At Liberty, I wasn’t brought to the intake room as I had been the previous two times I’d been there. They didn’t even have me change into the Liberty jumpsuit. Instead, I was delivered to a Liberty guard, one I didn’t recognize, then led down a hallway.

A hallway that led to several flights of stairs.

I knew this route, and it could mean only one thing.

The Cellar.

I had been there once before and it had nearly killed me, or at least driven me crazy.

I could already smell the excrement and the mold. Fear crept into my heart. I stopped short. “No,” I said. “No, no. I need to talk to my attorney.”

“I have my orders,” the guard said without emotion.

“I swear on the graves of my dead mother and father, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

The guard pushed me and I fell to my knees. I could feel them scrape against the concrete. It was already so dark and the stench was terrible. I decided that if I didn’t stand up, then they couldn’t make me go down there.

“Girl,” the guard said, “if you don’t stand up, I will knock you out and carry you myself.”

I clasped my hands. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” I was begging now. “I can’t.” I grasped the guard’s leg. I was past having dignity.

“Assistance!” the guard called. “Prisoner is noncompliant!”

A second later, I felt a syringe go into the side of my neck. I did not pass out, but my mind went blank, and it felt as if my troubles were behind me. The guard tossed me over her shoulder like I weighed nothing and carried me down the three flights of stairs. I barely felt it when she placed me in the kennel. The cage door had only just closed when I finally did lose consciousness.

When I awoke, every part of me hurt, and my school uniform was ominously damp.

Outside my tiny cage, I could see a pair of crossed legs in expensive wool pants attached to a pair of feet in recently shined shoes. I wondered if I was hallucinating—I had never known there to be any lights in the Cellar. A flashlight beam moved toward me. “Anya Balanchine,” Charles Delacroix greeted me. “I’ve been waiting near ten minutes for you to wake up. I’m a very busy man, you know. Dismal place here. I’ll have to remember to have it shut down.”

My throat was dry, probably from whatever drug they’d given me. “What time is it?” I rasped. “What day is it?”

He pushed a thermos through the bars, and I drank greedily.

“Two a.m.,” he told me. “Sunday.”

I had been asleep almost twenty hours.

“Are you the reason I’m here?” I asked.

“You give me too much credit. How about my son? Or you yourself? Or the stars? Or your precious Jesus Christ? You’re a Catholic, are you not?”

I did not reply.

Charles Delacroix yawned.

“Long hours?” I asked.

“Very.”

“Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule,” I said sarcastically.

“All right, Anya, you and I have always been able to be candid with each other, so here it is,” Charles Delacroix began. He took a slate out of his pocket and turned it on. He turned it toward me. The photograph was of Win and me in the Trinity cafeteria. Win was holding my hand across the table. It had been taken Friday. How long had he held my hand? Less than two seconds before I had pulled away.

“It isn’t what it looks like,” I said. “Win was shaking my hand. We’re trying to be … friends, I guess. It wasn’t even a moment.”

“I do believe you, but unfortunately for both of us, this indiscretion was long enough for someone to get a picture,” Charles Delacroix said. “On Monday, a news story will run with this picture and the headline ‘Charles Delacroix’s Mob Connections: Who He Knows and What That Means to Voters.’ Needless to say, this is not ideal for me. Or for you.”

Yes, I could see that.

“That generous, anonymous donation to Trinity—”

“I had nothing to do with it!”

“Anya, I already know that. Haven’t you ever suspected who did make that donation, though?”

I shook my head. My neck was sore where they had injected me. “The truth is, Mr. Delacroix, I didn’t care. I just wanted to go back to school. I tried to find another school, but none would have me with the weapons charges.”

Charles Delacroix clucked sympathetically. “Our system does make it challenging for parolees to follow the straight and narrow.”

“Who did make the donation?” I asked.

“The donation was made by”—he paused for dramatic effect—“the Friends of Bertha Sinclair.”

“Bertha Sinclair?” The name was familiar, and had my head not been pounding, I might even have been able to place it.

“Oh, Anya, I’m terribly disappointed. Aren’t you following the campaign at all? Ms. Bertha Sinclair is the Independent Party candidate for district attorney. She might even beat me the way things are going.”

“Good.”

“It hurts me to hear you say that. Now you’re just being cruel,” Charles Delacroix said.

“Which of us is the one in a kennel not even fit for a dog?”

“But back to the Friends of Bertha Sinclair. Lovely Bertha’s campaign first started gaining some real momentum after that unfortunate bus accident. Glad to see you’re well, by the way. And do you happen to know from whence this momentum came?”

I nodded slowly. It was as Mr. Kipling had said. “Because the news linked your name and mine and Win’s all over again. And our relationship makes you seem corrupt. And you are supposed to be Mr. Incorruptible.”

“Bingo. You are the cleverest seventeen-year-old I know. And so those Friends of Bertha Sinclair, not being a stupid lot, came up with a plan that would throw you and my hapless boy together again. They were just waiting for pictures of the two of you. A kiss. A date. But you and Win didn’t deliver those so they took what they could get. A second of indiscretion when Win grabbed your hand across a lunch table.”

My cheeks burned with the memory. I was grateful for the low light.

“I am, frankly, amazed he resisted that long. Win is not known for his restraint. The boy is his mother—all heart, no sense. Alexa, his sister, she was the one like me. Brave and sensible. She was like you, too. Probably why the boy finds you so compelling, actually.”

I said nothing.

“So, to conclude. Every time the story of you and Win is reported, the media gets to imply I’m corrupt and the Sinclair people don’t have to say a darn thing.”

“But it’s over now,” I protested. “The picture runs tomorrow. And that’s the end of it. You’ll take a small hit and then everyone will forget about it.”

“No, Anya. It’s only the beginning. They will wait for you every day after school. They will try to get pictures of you in class. Your peers, because they are young and thoughtless, will find ways to provide them. Win won’t even have to be holding your hand for them to run this same story. He can be standing near you. He can be reported to be in the same building as you. This picture is a game changer, don’t you see?”

“But Win has a girlfriend! Can’t you just tell them that?”

“They’ll say that pictures don’t lie and that Alison Wheeler is a ringer.”

“A ringer?”

“A fake. A fraud. Someone my campaign has employed to make it look like you’re not with Win.”

“But I’m not with Win!”

“I believe you. And if the polls were better…” Charles Delacroix looked at me with tired eyes. “I’ve thought about what to do, and I could only come up with one thing that puts an end to this story.”

“Throwing me back in here? But I didn’t violate our agreement! And you can’t lock someone up for dating your son. I’ll have Mr. Kipling go to the media, and you’ll look like a monster.”

Charles Delacroix seemed not to have heard me. “But you have broken several laws since getting out of Liberty, haven’t you?”

He turned his slate toward me. First, a picture of me bartering with chocolate in Union Square. Then, a picture of me drinking coffee at Fats’s. Finally, a picture of me getting out of Yuji Ono’s car. The photo was time-stamped, 12:25 a.m. Past curfew, in other words. All of these were minor infractions. Unfortunately, I was sitting across from the King of Enforcing Minor Infractions.

“You’ve been having me followed!”

“I needed insurance in case you didn’t honor our arrangement. You are, rightly or wrongly, considered a delinquent. And, as you well know, the light, three-month sentence you received only holds if you don’t continue in your delinquency. If I put you in Liberty for a year, say, it solves two of my problems. No one can say I showed you favoritism, and no more stories about you and Win.”

“I can’t stay here for a year,” I whispered.

“How about six months. The election will be completely over by then.”

“I can’t.” I would not cry in front of Charles Delacroix. “I just can’t.”

“In exchange, I can promise you that no one will bother with your little sister, if that’s your concern.”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked.

“Not threatening, bargaining. We’re bargaining here, Anya. Don’t forget, I do have legitimate reasons for returning you to Liberty. Chocolate possession. Caffeine consumption. Curfew infraction.”

I felt like a trapped animal.

I was a trapped animal.

I wanted to talk to Mr. Kipling although, on some level, I knew he couldn’t protect me from this. I had been unlucky, yes, but I had also been incredibly foolish. “The election is over the second week of November. Why not let me out at Christmas? That’s three months.”

Charles Delacroix considered my offer. “Let’s say four. The end of January has a nicer ring to it. It could have the appearance of impropriety if you’re out the month after the election.”

I nodded. Charles Delacroix reached his hand through the bars, and after a moment, I shook it. My wrist felt incredibly sore, and I winced.

Charles Delacroix rose. “I’m sorry about this. I’ll make sure you aren’t sent down here again. I only wanted to ensure we were able to speak to each other without being observed.”

“Thank you,” I said weakly. But I knew he was lying. Sending me to the Cellar had been a very specific form of intimidation.

He was about to leave when he turned and kneeled down so that we were face-to-face. “Anya,” he whispered, “why couldn’t you have just made both our lives easier and disappeared for a year? Visited your relatives in Russia? I know you have friends in Japan. A girl like you probably has friends in all the kingdoms of the world.”

“New York is my home, and I wanted to finish high school,” I said lamely.

“Your lawyer should never have let you go back to Trinity.”

“Mr. Kipling didn’t want me to. Everything that happened, I caused myself. I should have been more vigilant.”

“Not the bus accident,” Delacroix said. “That was just unlucky. For both of us, I mean.”

“And especially for that girl who was killed.”

“Yes, you are right, Anya. Especially for her. Her name was Elizabeth.” Charles Delacroix reached through the bars to touch my cheek. “This place is run atrociously. There are holes. If you happen to slip down one in a week or two, I doubt you would be missed.”

“You’re trying to scare me.”

“The opposite, Anya. I’m trying to help you.”

I was beginning to see his meaning. “How would I ever come back?”

He stood up, taking his thermos with him. “You have a friend who is going to be the new district attorney in New York. A friend who thinks that the prohibition laws are incredibly wrongheaded and have done nothing but ruin lives. A friend who remembers that you did save his son’s life. A friend who will be better able to help you once this blasted campaign is over.”

“We are not friends, Mr. Delacroix.”

Charles Delacroix shrugged. “At the moment, perhaps not. But when you have lived as long as I have, you become comfortable with the notion that last year’s enemy may be this year’s friend. The reverse is true, too. Good night, Anya Balanchine. Be well.”

About fifteen minutes after Charles Delacroix had left, a guard arrived to lead me to the intake room. Even though it was nearly three in the morning, Mrs. Cobrawick and Dr. Henchen were waiting for me. “I am sorry to see you back here, Anya,” Mrs. Cobrawick said. “But I can’t say that I am surprised.”

Mrs. Cobrawick looked at my file on her slate. “My, my, my. Multiple parole violations. You were a very busy girl. Caffeine consumption, curfew infraction, and chocolatiering.”

I said nothing.

“Won’t you ever learn to follow the straight and narrow?”

Still, I said nothing. I was so very tired. I thought I might collapse.

“We may as well get started. Anya, please remove your clothes for decontamination,” Mrs. Cobrawick ordered. She turned to Dr. Henchen and said, “I fear these cannot be salvaged. They are so covered in filth.”

I bent down to take off my skirt. As I was bending, I felt a strange pain in my chest and then I fell to the floor, banging my head on the tiles. My abdominal muscles convulsed wildly and I threw up. Dr. Henchen ran to my side. “Her heart is racing and she’s turning blue. We need to get her to the clinic.”

The next thing I knew, I was on a gurney being wheeled across Liberty Island to the medical area. I had never been there before but it was surprisingly clean and modern-looking compared to the rest of the place. A doctor cut off my Trinity uniform, and then they put sensors on my naked chest. I did not even bother to feel embarrassed. And then, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I passed out.

When I awoke the next morning, I tried to sit up, but my wrist was handcuffed to the bed rail.

A doctor came into the room. “Good morning, Anya. How are you feeling?”

I considered the question. “Sore. Exhausted. But overall, not that bad.”

“Good, good. You had a heart episode last night.”

“Like a heart attack?”

“Almost, but much more minor. There isn’t anything wrong with your heart. You had an allergic reaction. It could have been something you ate, or it’s possible that someone slipped you something, though luckily it wasn’t in a quantity high enough to kill you. We won’t know any of this for sure until the toxicology reports come back. The cause could be as simple as stress. I imagine you have been under some stress lately.”

I nodded.

“But in case it is something more serious, you’ll need to stay here for at least the next several days, for monitoring.”

“I was given a sedative early Saturday morning by the guards at Liberty. Could it have been that?”

The doctor shook his head. “I doubt it—the timeline really wouldn’t make sense—though that’s good to know. So, rest up, Ms. Balanchine, and take it easy. You have several visitors in the hallway who are dying to see you. If it’s all right with you, I’m going to tell them they can come in now.”

I sat up in bed as best I could and adjusted my hospital gown so that all my important bits were covered.

Mr. Kipling, Simon Green, Scarlet, Imogen, and Natty came into the room. They had been told the official story—that I had broken the terms of my release with those petty crimes. As was to be expected, Natty cried a little and Scarlet cried a lot, and then I asked everyone except Mr. Kipling and Simon Green to leave. After I had relayed the highlights of my conversation with Charles Delacroix to them, Simon Green sighed, and Mr. Kipling stood up and banged his fist on the table.

“That makes a lot more sense, though. I wondered why they were bothering you about coffee and curfew,” Simon Green said. “So, what do you want to do, Anya?”

“I think I should leave New York.” I decided this as I was saying it.

“Are you sure?” Mr. Kipling asked.

“I can’t stay at Liberty. Who knows how long it will suit Charles Delacroix to leave me here. He’s saying January now, but I don’t trust him anymore. Not to mention, I don’t know if I’ll survive it. Someone may have tried to poison me last night. I have to go. There is no other way.”

Mr. Kipling nodded to Simon Green. “Then we will help you come up with a plan.”

Simon Green lowered his voice. “In my opinion, our best chance for getting you out is while you’re still in the hospital. After that, you’ll be too entrenched at Liberty, and we’ll have less access to you.”

“Basically, we’ll need to do two things. Determine the best way to get you out of here. And then figure out where you’re going to go,” Mr. Kipling said.

“Japan?” Simon Green suggested.

“No. Definitely not.” I didn’t want to lead the rest of my family straight to my brother.

“The Balanchines have many friends all over the world. We will find something suitable,” Mr. Kipling said.

I nodded. “I need to arrange for Natty and Imogen, of course.”

“Of course,” Mr. Kipling said. “I promise that Simon Green or I will check on them every day that you are gone. But the truth is, I see no reason that things should change.”

“But what if my relatives or the press become interested in Natty’s welfare once I’m gone?”

Mr. Kipling considered this. “I could become Natty’s legal guardian if you’d like.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Yes. A long time ago, I worried it would complicate our business arrangement but I’ve been thinking about this possibility since Galina’s death, and I think it is the best way I can help you. I would have made the same offer last year but everything progressed so rapidly after Leo shot Yuri Balanchine. And then it didn’t seem as if there would be a need once you had resolved things with Charles Delacroix. But maybe this would be the best way to settle things once and for all.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Simon Green looked at Mr. Kipling. “The other thing we could do is send Natty to a boarding school out of state or country. This might be simpler in the short term. Forgive me, Stuart, but you have a bad heart and the timing of the application itself might raise eyebrows.”

A nurse came into the room. “Ms. Balanchine needs to rest now.”

Mr. Kipling kissed me on the cheek. “I am very sorry I did not advise you better.”

“You tried, Mr. Kipling. You told me not to go back to Trinity. You told me to avoid Win. I didn’t want to listen. I always think I’m being so smart, but then later, it turns out I’ve made so many mistakes.”

Mr. Kipling took me by the handcuffed hand. “This isn’t completely your fault, Anya. Nowhere near it.”

“When will I stop being so wrong all the time?”

“You have a good heart. And a good brain, too. But you are young and a human being, after all, and so allowances must be made.”