Regret Read Online Free Page A

next.

3.
    The journey from Jag’s house to mine felt eternal. Every noise spooked me until I found myself clutching the notebooks to my chest and avoiding the dangerous pools of light on the corners.
    By the time I climbed through my bedroom window, my fingers ached and I felt drained. I stowed the notebooks under my mattress and went to check on Lex. I found my father spooning thin broth past his swollen lips. He smiled at the sight of me, and I returned the gesture.
    “Can he talk?” I asked my father as I sat on the arm of the couch.
    “Not tonight, Indiarina. We will convene in the morning.” The broth seemed to need his utmost attention.
    “We?” I asked.
    “With Jag’s disappearance, we’ll need to decide how to proceed.”
    “We?” I asked again, a brick of dread settling in my stomach. The way my father wouldn’t look at me spoke volumes.
    “The second-in-command will decide,” he said.
    “Dad,” I choked out.
    Finally, my father looked at me. A fierceness I only saw when he was worried resided in his eyes. “Not now, Indy. We’ll talk after I finish here, all right?”
    I nodded and cradled my head in my hands, hoping to fall asleep in the few minutes it would take for him to finish up with Lex. But my mind churned, and I hoped that when my father said “we’ll talk” he meant “I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”
    I soon found that wasn’t what he meant. At all. I convened with my parents in the kitchen, where my mother placed no less than four dishes in front of me and sat down without her usual, “Eat up, Indiarina. You’re much too thin,” which only added to the worry seething in my gut.
    “What’s the last thing Jag said to you?” my father asked.
    I told him everything. How I’d snuck out three nights ago and crossed the desert (I noted the exchanged parental glances); the last conversation with Jag (my mother sighed);the brief cry-fest in his bedroom (nobody blinked); and the discovery of the notebooks.
    “Ah, perfect,” Dad said, pulling a bowl of steamed rice toward him. He piled it on his plate and doused it in tandoori chicken. “You’ll know what to do, then.”
    The way he mimicked Jag wasn’t lost on me. I wasn’t sure if I should feel angry or dissolve into tears again. “That’s it? You’re not going to advise me?”
    Dad waved his fork at me. “The notebooks will advise you. We’ll be here if you have any questions.”
    I locked eyes with my mother, who patted my arm. “I will make up a plate for you, Indiarina. You’re much too thin.”
    I watched, numb, as my mom piled pork, chicken, rice, and vegetables onto a plate. I let her guide me by the elbow to my bedroom. The only thing I noticed was the tightly closed door to Irv’s room.
    After my mother left, I sat in the armchair with my plate of food, and I felt like screaming. Instead, I did what I should’ve been doing all along. I swallowed all emotion and looked at myself in the mirror on the back of my closet door. My face gave nothing away, just as I’d hoped.
    After all, the leader of the Resistance is an enigma. Unreadable. Unpredictable. Jag had provided a perfect examplefor me over the years. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I thought I’d never become the leader he was.
    Is, I corrected myself, but that thought disintegrated as fast as it had come.
    The next morning found me already awake. In fact, I hadn’t yet gone to sleep. I knew Jag had slept very little as leader of the Resistance, and I figured I might as well start adapting to my new role.
    The notebooks had been filled with Jag’s pressed handwriting, but nothing was in order. I couldn’t believe it. He lived his life according to straight edges and tucked corners. I suppose he’d found a way to let the chaos out through the notebooks. Figures it would be me left to find a clue in his mess.
    Some pages were filled with long paragraphs of writing. Jag had been documenting the missions. Three notebooks were filled with the