The Truths We Make (House of Poe #1)

5. Splintered Wood

Splintered Wood

Spring, 17 years before

T he day is getting late; the sun shedding pinks and blues across the sky as it makes its final descent. It’s the first bit of weather that has felt like spring, making the injustices I faced at school this afternoon even more abhorrent. I should have known better than to have lingered. I have no one to blame but myself.

For the first few months at my new school, I went unnoticed. It took all summer for Madeline to convince Momma to let them pay for private school, telling her it was a necessity of the job. How would it look to have a young girl growing up in their home without a proper education , they’d say. It was a perk. A benefit . To whom, I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t wanted to go. Starting over with new people was never something I’d been good at. But once it was decided, I had little choice in the matter. And I stayed quiet enough… until I didn’t.

Oliver insisted I bring the raven skull to class for my family project. I didn’t have much else to show, since I didn’t have anyone but Momma and the Poes. He had told me it would make me friends. That no one would question it and it would confirm I was one of them.

It didn’t. It only encouraged the nickname Eve Reaper, giggled as I passed. Rumors that I killed and cleaned the skull myself, all in a desperate attempt to be tied to a family that I would never be part of. To be more than I was. They laughed at my questions. Stole my lunch and snacks. Anything to torment me, the killer of birds.

But I couldn’t tattle. Wouldn’t . I knew how to endure, so I did. All of their cruelty was invisible, after all. I had a home where glass didn’t break unexpectedly, and love wasn’t given in bruises. I had nothing to prove to my stuck up classmates. Not when I had a safe place. It made it easy to tuck away the insults the moment I ran up the drive.

It did, that is, until today.

I knew I needed to get on the bus. Knew I couldn’t walk home alone. But I was so damn excited about my science fair project, and it just needed a little more time to be perfect. I couldn’t let inspiration slink away from me while I had it. So, I stayed. And so did they.

Now I could feel the bruises along the backs of my legs from being kicked stabbed into by the edge of the tree trunk I was sitting on. The curled branches hiding me from the view of the house. I couldn’t go in or someone would ask me what had happened. And I couldn’t stay out here much longer, the lingering dusk desperate to sweep me in for the night. The boys could only hold them off so long before someone came looking for me.

A branch rustles and I look to find Oliver stepping through the trees, Paxton hot on his heels. Time’s up.

“Your mother sent us to find you,” Paxton says as he stumbles into Oliver’s stopped form. “What are you doing? You make a better door than a window, Ol,” he laughs, slapping at him.

But Oliver doesn’t move. He’s dead set on my left cheek, face scrunched and turning red from the strain. Paxton catches sight of what has his brother in thrall. He runs to my side, fists curled into hammers next to me before he loosens one and brushes it across the forming bruise, gently cupping my cheek.

“What happened, Eve?” he asks, deadly as a secret.

I know I can’t tell them the truth, but I can’t lie either. Not to them. I sit, unable to look at their waiting faces.

“Who? Who did it?” Oliver interrupts, crouching down beside us.

I shake my head and it spins a bit from the pain. Even if they can guess what happened, I’ll never tell them names. That would be disastrous for us all, causing problems I’d never be able to break out of. They can’t be my guardians when I’m alone at school. They can’t feel responsible for the cruelty of others. No, I have to deal with this myself somehow .

“It… it’s fine. It’s my fault, really. Can we just forget it?” I stutter, hands fiddling wildly.

Oliver stares, hands opening and closing on the grass, and I think I have him. He wants me to tell him everything, but knows that time is needed before I will. Which he’ll never get if he pushes now. Paxton doesn’t care what I say. He refuses to relinquish his protection, regardless of my heart. He’s tugging me up by the hand, our palms rough together. I try not to cry out when my leg bruises drag on the stump.

“No. Your face is turning purple, Evangeline. This is unacceptable. Madeline will not stand for this. Who did it? ” he spits.

Paxton’s fury is a sight to behold. A golden boy in every aspect as he stands in the dying sun. He’s the top of his class. First string in both football and baseball. He’s the king of their all-boys private school, but never a bully to anyone less than a bully. The only place he can’t quite live up to expectations is in this house—where none of us can—and I hate that I’m adding to his feeling of helplessness.

Still, he would never understand why I’m being picked on. Why anyone wouldn’t accept who I am when his family has welcomed me into their home. In this moment, all he knows is one of his own has been hurt, and so he sheds all the polite words and uninhibited laughter. He exchanges it for the darkness the Poes are all known for, except, for him, passion easily shifts to justified rage and back. From a boy to a young man in a blink.

“Paxton, that hurts,” I whine, more with needing him to stop than actual pain.

Just as I expected, he lets go. My brain pounds as I try to find the perfect thing to say to keep him from running to Madeline and my momma. We all stand there staring at each other, Paxton fuming, Oliver lost in thought, and me scrambling, desperate for something to make this go away.

“Well,” Paxton says, exasperated, “are you coming?”

“No. Paxton, please don’t do this! It won’t help. All that’ll happen is I’ll be a tattletale and then I’ll have to spend the rest of school knowing they’re just waiting for a chance to get back at me,” I beg.

Oliver takes me by the shoulder, his slender arms warm from the faded sun. Tears fall down my cheeks from the fear of having to explain, of being put on display and having to live my humiliation all over again. Paxton looks between us, disgusted .

“You can’t coddle her out of this, Oli. If we let this be, the next time might be a broken bone or worse. As clever as she is, Eve isn’t cruel enough to outsmart a group of delinquent rich kids from ganging up on her. And the school is more than useless unless Alexander or Madeline steps in. We can’t just let this happen,” he puffs out each word, begging his brother to take his side.

Oliver waves him away. “Go, Pax. Talk to them. Eve and I will be in soon.”

“Fine,” he huffs. “Both of you are acting like babies and I expected better. Madeline will expect better.” He turns to me, “Eve, you’re a Poe and Poes are revered for their choice to be outcasts. They’re not supposed to be forced into it and ridiculed. What good is this stupid name if not to stop stuff like this from happening? Use it to your advantage.”

Paxton says the last in a tone punctuated with antipathy before he stomps off and Oliver and I are left to the porch lights switching on.

“But I’m not. Not really. Not at all,” I whisper, self-conscious and ashamed.

“Not what?” Oliver asks, curious.

“Not a Poe. I’m a Pierce. I’m a guest of the Poe house, a worker. I go to a private school at the grace of your family, but not because I earned it. I lucked into all of this, and they know it. I’m not an outcast… I’m a nobody.” The tears start fresh at speaking the truth that’s haunted me since we moved in.

The boys have never made me feel less, but Momma and the rest of the world never let me forget it. She said we are blessed to not have the burden of wealth and legacy. That I needed to remember what a real family was like, and that it would destroy me if I let it. That all we needed was each other and I shouldn’t wish to be part of the Poes, because one day I would want to leave Dellbrook. That one day, being banished to the sidelines wouldn’t be enough anymore and I could never be in their spotlight.

They couldn’t know our secrets. Of the people we come from, who we run from, or the trouble they would try to bring. Couldn’t fathom our past. The fists and screams and the family who would make excuses for both. Family who wanted to trap us in the cycle. They would never understand. And no matter whether the handcuffs were iron or gold, I should never want to be bound to others again. It was better to know them than to be one of them.

Yet, all I wanted was to be accepted. So when a glimmer of possibility peeked out, I tested it. And when I tried to show that I, too, was a Poe to my classmates, as Oliver had encouraged, they made sure to beat me back to my proper position in life. I could want to be a Poe, could want for their attention and affection, but they’d never accept me thinking I belonged with them. That I was equal to them. I wasn’t. And now, more than ever, I understand that. I would never forget it again.

“Eve…” he says.

“No, Oliver. I’m not and that’s ok. I need to accept it. I’m just me. It’s always going to be just me. ”

He’s quiet. The only sounds are my traitorous sniffles. I can’t look at him, but I feel his warm hand land on mine.

“Eve, I need to show you something. Come on,” he says, pulling me to the kitchen door.

I let him tug me through and up the spiraling stairs to the staff’s quarters. He passes the rooms and instead opens the closet that’s tucked at the very end of the house. He drags me in and closes the door. My tears are all but dried, my curiosity fierce and overpowering. Oliver slides the tiny closet window up and throws his leg over its ledge. I watch as he disappears to the other side, face barely peeking back at me.

“Are you coming?” he asks, a small grin pulling on his cheeks.

I hurry to follow. My leggings are not much of a barrier between the sill and my bruised skin, but I make it, and realize where we are. I laugh, surprise and thrill pushing the sound out of me. The yard weaves out beneath us, the higher rooflines of the rest of the house rising behind us.

“Don’t tell anyone this is here. Even Paxton doesn’t know. And I’d like to keep it that way, got it?” His serious face looks at me, waiting for a response and I nod, locking the imaginary key across my lips along with the laughter.

He grabs the imaginary key I’ve tossed and pats it into his heart before his head bobbles back, satisfied. Reaching down, he grabs a black leather book that’s tucked under the eave. He kicks his legs out in front of him to sit, and I follow suit, close enough to read from the light we left on in the closet. The book opens to a page that has large ravens scratched along its edges, a title bolded at the top that says, What’s in a Name?

“Do you remember the first day you came to Dellbrook?” he asks.

“Of course. How could I forget the first time you two tried to kill me?” I quip.

He doesn’t laugh as I want him to, but a small smile still plays at his lips.

“Madeline had just given us another history lesson on our family, and I was so tired of being called a Poe before Oliver. It seems like everything I have ever wanted is only allowed to come second to being called a Poe. You want to play soccer, Oliver—how will that look to your ancestors? Oh, you’re writing again, Oliver—you can thank your great grandfather for that! ” His voice takes on the stern clip of Madeline before he drops back into his Oliver tone.

“It’s exhausting. Paxton and I were complaining about it all day. And then you showed up, and it didn’t feel so bad anymore.” His smile grows larger. “You see, Edgar believed fate wasn’t something we had to beg for. That it would show up and just be. Madeline said we’re too young to understand that, but I think Paxton and I both understood that day.”

He points to the page, and I see the list of our names scratched down the middle.

Paxton. Oliver. Evangeline.

Each beginning letter is bolded, showing an acrostic poem. I search the page, finding more jumbles of the words, Madeline and Alexander, both added to change it up.

A Poem Poem

But the biggest, boldest one was just the three of us:

POE.

“See, Eve. Me and Pax can’t be Poes without you. When I showed Madeline, she said that Edgar would have loved it. You cannot be more Poe than that.”

His eyes gleam a little as he waits for me to react. I take my time memorizing the page and let Oliver’s words sink in. I throw my arms out over Oliver and squeeze, hugging him tightly to me even though it hurts.

“Thank you,” I whisper, meaning it .

I don’t know if I feel any more like a Poe than I did before this afternoon, but suddenly I don’t feel so alone. I may not know where I belong, but as long as Oliver does, it feels like enough.

“You’re welcome.” He pulls away, cheeks tinting pink as he looks at me. “Now, go to your room and we’ll talk to the parents to figure this out before going to Isabel. No doubt Paxton has already gone on the warpath. You’d think he was mayor instead of thirteen with the way he insists on being the boss.”

I laugh despite my nerves. I know Paxton has already taken charge. There’s little I can do to stop the fallout, but knowing they’ll be on my side, the three of us, has me feeling less fragile about the outcome, at least.

We crawl back into the house and Oliver leaves me with a small wave goodbye. I can contain my curiosity for an entire fifteen minutes before I have to know what’s going on downstairs.

I sneak down, planting myself in front of the entry to the Nest. Alexander paces feet from me as both boys stand to the side. Madeline sits in a wingback chair placed in the farthest corner from me, making me lean further in to even see. I slide back out of view, careful not to be seen, and just listen.

“You did right, Paxton, to come to us,” Alexander says, pride evident. “We’ll have to tell Isabel about what happened with her daughter, but I’d like to have a solution before we worry her.”

“I couldn’t agree more, dear,” Madeline coos. “Those terrible little hooligans need to be punished, and their parents should be warned. We made a promise to Isabel and Eve that she would receive a great education, and she cannot very well do that if they are laying hands on her. It’s disgusting.”

“We’ll go to the school first thing tomorrow and talk to the dean. As well as get a list of her classmates so we can call their parents. It’ll be resolved, my love, I promise,” Alexander pronounces.

“Father, before you do that, Oliver and I have another idea,” Paxton interrupts. “We’d like to be transferred to Kingsley. The school allows for both our grades, and I’ll be moving on to high school next year anyway, so now would be the perfect time for a change. We’ve been talking about how Advent Prep has taken us as far as it can.”

The room is silent. I worry my bottom lip with my teeth, shredding my skin with them. Alexander and Madeline will never let them change. The Advent is the top boys' school in the nation and the Poes have been sending their boys there for at least the last four generations, if not longer. There’s no way they’d let them flout tradition for me.

“And you both feel strongly about this?” Alexander asks, his voice more serious than I’d ever heard it.

“Yes sir,” both Oliver and Paxton say in unison.

“Very well. I have no objections to young men following their hearts. I’ll let you decide, Madeline. Whatever you believe is best,” Alexander says.

The click of heels echoes through the room and to my ears. I cannot help but move further into the doorway to glimpse what is happening. Madeline stands tall over both boys, her gaze lingering down on them as her shoulders bend back, making her seem a giantess.

“You’re sure?” she asks, voice stern and even. “You are giving up a piece of tradition, of your legacy, to go to a school with less education. You are showing your hearts for a girl that may very well resent it. You’re both putting yourselves at the mercy of these social circles, and even your presence may not change anything for Eve, other than she’ll come to rely on your friendship, even if that friendship is all it’ll ever be and isn’t guaranteed. Is that the responsibility you are ready to shoulder? The decision you think you are old enough to make?”

Neither boy speaks, a single nod their only reply. She bends down to their eye level, then looks between them, drifting her head from one side to the other. She straightens, a deep sigh leaving her as she does. Her heels click as she sits back down in her chair.

“Fine. You may transfer. But, Paxton, I demand a sacrifice in return. As the oldest son, this is your burden to bear. You’ll begin piano again…”

“Madeline,” Paxton interrupts, the whine of his age thick in his words. My heart still skips when they call their mother by her name, feeling as if a scolding will happen any moment. And with his tone, I worry the name will only solidify her demand. Even if, to them, it is normal.

I know how long Paxton worked to stop the lessons, how he hated every moment sitting on that bench. But Alexander played. And his father before him. The Poe legacy rested in creative endeavors. In the heart of words and song and art. Their trust, inherited wealth, and wives allowed them to never need to dirty their hands with business or practicalities. In fact, it was frowned upon. After all, Edgar himself had said that the pursuit of beauty was the most intense happiness and if you couldn’t find it in one artistic medium, you had to try the next. Making it mandatory that both boys learn this instrument, among other things, no matter that Paxton struggled with it.

My heart squeezes knowing that he’ll never make the sacrifice. I would never expect him to. It doesn’t mean that the small amount of relief their plan had brought me is dashed and I’m left riddled with anxiety of what my tomorrows look like until graduation.

“What if I take up another extracurricular? I know there is something…” Oliver tries, desperate to make this work, more than likely coming to the same conclusion I have that Paxton will never agree.

“No,” Madeline says with no room for barter. “Paxton will do this, or you will all continue as you have, and Evangeline will be dealt with our way. I can understand…”

“I’ll do it,” Paxton’s voice is soft when he interrupts and I’m unsure if I’ve heard him or if I’ve just made it up.

“What was that?” Madeline asks.

“I said, I will do it,” he says louder, voice turning to steel. “Piano will be reinstated twice a week, and Oliver and I will go to Kingsley with Eve. We will remain at the same school with her until each of our respective graduations.”

Paxton is very precise with his bargain, knowing that if he slips even a little, she will take a loophole just to teach him a lesson. Silence follows his demand. Madeline’s frown only deepens, proving that Paxton’s agreement was not what she wanted, even if she’ll never say as much.

“Good. We have a deal. But, boys, a word of advice,” she shakes her head, “no, rather a plea from your mother. You may love this girl, both of you, but I beg you to remember to always, always, love each other more. You are family, and in loyalty, blood is the toughest binder. Understood?”

Oliver throws his hand across Paxton’s shoulder, a look of pride and awe lighting his face. Paxton turns so they can look at one another. Slowly, his mouth curves into a victorious smile matching Oliver’s. As if they alone have just beaten the heavens themselves, and in my hiding spot in the darkened crook of the door, I cannot help but mirror them.