Subject Seven

Chapter Fifteen
Gene Rothstein

Gene stared at the TV without seeing it. There were images, noises, commercial breaks, but none of the input made any difference. The only thing on his mind was the news that was adopted.

It was there, a huge lumbering shadow that kept blocking his view of everything else and distracting him from having any solid thoughts.

He kept trying to relax, or even to convince himself that he could wait until his parents got home to find out, but the shock was wearing off and anger was taking its place. His parents had lied to him. That was all there was to it. Every time he thought about that, the anger swelled like a wave building in size and waiting to break.

He closed his eyes and ground his teeth and then forced the anger back again. No emotions. Emotions were for the weak.

There had been absolute silence between Uncle Rob and him after the conversation in the car. The man had stared dead ahead and driven calmly, soberly even, as he made the trip back to Gene’s home. He hadn’t dared look over, hadn’t wanted to risk making eye contact because he was probably hoping that somehow Gene would forget the conversation and avoid the inevitable confrontation with his dad.

That wasn’t happening.

The phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. Rob, again. Like he’d bother answering the Right Revrund Robbie after the special sermon he’d been forced to endure earlier.

“Get screwed.” He hissed the words. His lips peeled away from his teeth and his eyes narrowed into hateful slits. Had he seen a picture of himself right then, he wouldn’t have recognized the face. He’d never been the sort to hold a grudge, but he wanted nothing more at that moment than to find his pseudo-uncle and beat the man black and blue.

His little brother, Kevin, and his little sister, Trish, were already home. They’d taken one look at his face and decided to give him a lot of space. Sometimes they were smarter than others. Right then they were freaking geniuses.

Just to prove him wrong, Trish came into the room and stood behind him. She’d gotten perfume for her birthday and lacked the skill to put it on without bathing in it, so he could always tell when she was coming closer because he could smell her ten feet away.

She shuffled her feet behind him, and he closed his eyes, forced himself to stay calm. She wasn’t to blame, and at ten she didn’t deserve to take crap from him having a lousy day.

“What is it, Trish?” Nice and calm. No anger, no pain, no nothing.

“Why’re you mad?” Trish wasn’t so good at hiding her feelings. Her voice was both worried and petulant.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Yes I would.”

The anger surged again and he bit it back, but with difficulty. “Well, it’s private. I have to work some stuff out.”

“Mom looked for you this morning and couldn’t find you.”

Perfect. Just perfect.

“Well, that’s between me and Mom. It doesn’t involve you.” His tone was pissy, but he couldn’t seem to make himself be nice.

He couldn’t see her, but he knew the expression she’d be wearing on her face. She wanted to make a comment, but she was smart enough not to push too many buttons when he was being quiet.

“Look, Trish, just do me a favor, okay? Let it go.”

“Well, I want to watch TV.” She crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her chin out like she was waiting to prove how tough she was and was expecting him to swing.

Gene shrugged and slid over on the sofa to give her more room. “So watch. I don’t care.”

She moved around until she stood next to him and looked at him long and hard for a few seconds before she sat down and took the remote control from him. Half a minute later they were watching Hannah Montana, and he felt himself relax a little. The show was retarded, but at least Miley Cyrus was cute.

He’d almost forgotten that he was angry when his dad came into the room. One look at the man’s face told the story. Sometime after he’d been dropped off, Rob had gotten up the nerve to call his dad and confess his screwup.

His father stared at him, his eyes both sad and apologetic.

Normally Gene was a forgiving being, but the anger was still there, a living, breathing thing that wanted to roar and scream.

“Gene… ”

“Is it true?”

“That’s not an easy question.”

Gene looked away from his father as he stood up. His heart felt wrong. His head felt hollowed out. “It’s true.”

“Gene, please.” Had his dad ever sounded so desperate, so sad? Not that he could remember.

The anger again. It grew bigger and made him vicious. “You know what? Why don’t I give you and Mom some time to figure out what you want to say. You know she’s always been better at this sort of thing than either of us.” It was a barb, deliberately hurtful. His father hated conflict. His mother, the lawyer, loved a good debate. This was her field of expertise, and until she was home, he couldn’t stand the thought of dealing with his mother or his father. He didn’t want to hear their lies twice. Once was more than enough.

His father, one of the best men he’d ever met, flinched as if Gene had slapped him on the face. Maybe he had. Much as part of him felt bad for the reaction, there was another part that reveled in causing a little pain. Fair is fair, after all, and inside, where he could hide it, Gene was in screaming agony.

He went to his room and turned on his iPod. There were tests coming up at the Hemingford Academy, where he went to school, and he had to study. His life was shit, true enough, but that was no excuse for not handling his workload. His mother would never accept an excuse from him on his studies, and much as he wanted to scream at her and demand to know what was going on, he still had to handle the daily routines to the best of his ability.

But he didn’t have to like it. Deep inside, where he tried to keep all of the anger and shock of the last day, where he tried to hide the fury, the storm grew and raged.