Page 20 of Handsome Devil

His mouth spread into a grin, and my fingers fell upon his straight white teeth. He was the Cheshire Cat now. Playful and elusive.

“This’ll be fun.” His teeth grazed my fingers. “You know what they say. Fourth time’s a charm.”

Age seven

It was my birthday. I was 93.6 percent sure of it.

The last time I’d seen a calendar was three months ago, in the headmaster’s office. He’d left me unattended for ten minutes, enough time for me to scan each of the twelve pages and memorize them by heart. Then I went back to my room and scraped the date into the bottom of my bedframe so I could keep track of time without Andrin knowing.

Yeah. Today was definitely my birthday.

I wondered how boys with families celebrated. I imagined with cake, parents, and friends. Maybe balloons.

I wondered if I’d enjoy parents and presents. I’d never had either.

It seemed cool, having a birthday party. In the same way riding a dragon seemed cool. In a faraway, pathetically fictional way.

I put my pencil down on my writing table, next to my tenth-grade algebra homework. My pet cat, Ares, strutted along my worksheets, leaving mud-stained paw marks in his wake.

He thrust his head into my chin, purring like an engine and giving me a lopsided, tooth-baring smirk. I grinned toothlessly.

We weren’t allowed pets at the dormitory. Ares was my secret.

A few months ago, he’d emerged from the edge of the woods, missing his tail and one ear. It was no trouble at all, sharing some of my snacks with him. Every morning, I opened the window for him to go out and roam outside.

I liked the idea that at least one of us was free. And he always came back in the evenings.

“It’s my birthday, Ares.” I scratched his head with my index finger softly.

He pulled away, walked over to the edge of the table, and spun around slowly a couple times before curling into position. It looked like he was doing a little dance for me.

I laughed. “A present in the form of a dance. I like that.”

I glanced outside my window. It was pitch-black.

I traced the shape of the balustrade with my eyes, the silhouette of the thick woods beyond the Swiss boarding academy I lived in.

The forest stretched for miles on each side of the property. I knew Geneva was nearby. I studied the maps and burned them into memory in case I ever needed to escape.

What I didn’t know was how I got here. Or why.

I’d been told a distant relative dropped me off when I was just shy of two. Other than that, I didn’t know much about myself. I only knew I was an orphan and that I was American.

I was told I had no immediate family. I remembered some faces and events in a land faraway before I came to Switzerland, but I sometimes wondered if I made them all up.

A shadow passed along my window, the shape of a man.

My stomach bottomed out.

It was Andrin.

It was always Andrin.

The houseparents and tutors who supervised the dorms knew he came for me every night, and still, they let it happen.

They said it was good for me.

That Andrin was looking out for my future.