Watercolour Smile by Jane Washington Page B

tremble.
    “Whoa, no need to get all feisty. It’s a little unnerving with those eyes of yours.”
    I felt the bump of Aiden’s nose, saw the closeness of his different-coloured irises as he tried to show me that I wasn’t a freak, or if I was, then so was he.
    I dropped the controller and turned away from the familiar game, burrowing my head into the couch-cushion.
    “Seph?” Tariq shook my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
    “Not this game,” I croaked.
    “Oh, ah… okay, sure. We’ll play something else.”
    I spent the rest of the afternoon with Tariq, and as it neared evening Silas came to fetch me. We drove in his Jaguar to my father’s house and stopped outside of it.
    “You ready for this?” Silas asked.
    I nodded, and he handed me an envelope.
    “What are the chances of me convincing you to stay in the car for this?” I asked.
    “Laughable,” he said, without a trace of humour in his tone.
    I walked to the door, Silas following close behind me. The door was unlocked, the house dark, but I didn’t let that silence my frazzled nerves. I walked quietly, stepping as lightly and quickly as I could, at a pace that I had taught myself long ago. I avoided the noisier parts of the floor and Silas was a hulking, silent shadow behind me. It was a little scary that someone so much larger than me could be just as quiet as I was being. I walked up the stairs and down the hallway to my father’s bedroom, pushing the door open. I hated to admit it, but I never would have been so bold if Silas hadn’t been standing behind me.
    Gerald was sitting on the bed, a television remote in his hands, his head lolling to the side as he slept. Despite the warm and stagnant air, the blankets were pulled up around his chest.
    “Stay here,” I whispered to Silas, slipping forward to place the envelope on the edge of his bed.
    I paused, my hand still on the envelope, my breath snagging in my throat. My father’s chest wasn’t moving and he wasn’t snoring. Either he was in a very deep sleep, or else…
    “Gerald?” I asked, raising my voice just as a thump sounded behind me.
    I spun around as Silas collided with the side of the doorframe, a massive man standing behind him with a baseball bat, tattoos scratched all over his bald head. Silas pushed off with one arm and caught the second swing of the bat with the other, surprising the guy with how quickly he had recovered. I started forward, but an arm caught me from behind, forcing me back. My father’s closet door was hanging open, and a slender man had just stepped out of it. Silver flickered and I felt the cold prick of something against my throat.
    “Don’t move,” a voice said in my ear. “Don’t say a word.”
    I swallowed my scream and watched as Silas finally wrenched the bat away from the bald man. He tossed it over the stair railing and it landed on the floor below with a thud. The bald man swung at him but he ducked fluidly, raising his hands and falling back onto the balls of his feet. He danced away from the man’s meaty fists like his opponent was moving in slow motion, striking back with a merciless recoil that always seemed to catch the other man by surprise.
    The scene faded before me, showing me a different, but somehow similar vision.
    A hand whipped out, catching the boy across the face. Judging by the swelling in the right side of his face, it wasn’t the first blow that he had suffered. I felt sorry for him, but I also wished that he would stop laughing, and start fighting back. He looked strong. I wished I was that strong.
    I wished I could fight. Why wasn’t he?
    I forced the image out of my head, needing to expel actual effort to drag myself back into the present. Now wasn’t the time to be entertaining possibly schizophrenic flashbacks.
    “Quit playing.” The bald man was angry, his face mottled and his breathing choppy with a wheeze of pain. He finally hooked Silas and moved to slam him back against the balcony railing.
    Silas twisted as