The Gardener Read Free Page B

herself.”
    Inwardly, I groaned. Did it always have to be the same story? It was one thing for Mom to bash TroDyn at home, completely something else to trash them in public while intoxicated. As I leaned over her to fasten her seat belt, her hand on my arm stopped me and I looked into her teary eyes. Among other things, I wanted to chew her out for drinking again. Instead, I asked, “You okay?”
    She nodded. Her eyes wandered to my scar and she reached up with her fingertips, tracing it lightly all the way to my jaw.
    After so long, I’d gotten used to my face. Things might have been better if they could have just sewed it straight up. But a few pieces were missing here and there, making the scar look somewhat like a quilt in places where the doctor had pulled the torn skin together. One end of the scar started at my right eye’s outside corner, making my eye look a little like it sagged. That line of the scar met another at the top of my right cheek, and two parts branched out from there, one ending near my mouth, the other trailing off the side of my chin.
    Jack said it made me look tough, like some of those guys in the movies. That didn’t matter to me, looking tough. It might’ve been nice on the football field except my helmet covered it up anyway. And really, at almost six feet three and two hundred thirty pounds, I didn’t exactly come across as weak. Plus, there was no need to play a tough guy. If things worked out, if I actually did get into college, I planned to spend most of my adult life in a lab somewhere, hence the appeal of TroDyn, where appearances had no bearing on daily lives.
    My classmates had been my classmates since I was in kindergarten. I showed up that week after the attack with a bandage, then the bandage came off, my scar was revealed, and for a few weeks it was big news. Then, as my silence grew, my celebrity and the scar began to fade. I was just Mason, my scar a part of me. And as I grew bigger than everyone in school, most saw me simply as this hulking quiet guy.
    Maybe that was one reason for me to stay in Melby Falls after college, if I managed to go. Me, and my scar, were familiar. Out in the world I might just be the freak with the scar on his face. I liked being more than the sum of my parts. I also liked not having to deal with that shocked look people got upon seeing my face for the first time.
    Mom set her whole hand on the right side of my face. “You’re still my beautiful boy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
    “For starters, you’d need to call a cab.” I snapped her seat belt and settled back.
    She leaned her head on the window. “Something is wrong. Ever since the money stopped coming. I just feel it.”
    “What?”
    Mom had a funny look on her face, like she was surprised I’d heard her. But instead of answering me, she shook her head and didn’t say another word the entire ride.
    Back home, I made Mom a pot of strong coffee. Caffeine would just make her a wide-awake drunk, rather than truly sober her, but it always helped. With a wince, I remembered my TroDyn application just as she plopped down at the table and picked up the sheaf of papers.

TWO
     
    M Y MOTHER WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN ABLE TO MAKE OUT THE small print in her condition, but the large TroDyn insignia on top had to be unmistakable even to someone with blurred vision.
    Slapping the papers down with her hand, she glared at me. “What are you thinking?”
    I sat down opposite her. “It’s the summer program. It’s my best chance to get a scholarship.”
    “No.” She slurped some coffee and repeated the word several times until I finally asked her to stop.
    Trying to keep my voice soft and steady, I said, “Mom, we’ve got to be practical here. I need a college education, and you can’t afford it.”
    She pushed the papers away from her. “There’s a fund.” She was hard to understand.
    “A what?”
    “A fund. A college fund. For you.”
    I rolled my eyes and stifled a laugh.