Fade to Us Read online

  Mom set a plate before Jeff and turned to me. “If you’re willing to chauffeur Natalie tomorrow, you can take the Honda. I’ll carpool to my ball game.”

  “Deal.”

  Jeff smiled at me. “How did your first day on the job go?”

  “Good. It’s not too hard, and the people are nice.” I glanced at the wall clock, its ornate hands showing it was nearly seven. “I’ll be out tonight. Kaylynn’s taking me shopping.”

  “Why?”

  “I need new clothes for my job.”

  Natalie bobbed her head. “I was right. They didn’t like your ugly outfit.”

  I would not react. “They’ve given me more details about the dress code, and I don’t have anything that works.”

  She popped to her feet. “Where are you going?”

  Oh, no. This could mean trouble. “Target.” I stood and cleaned off the table, avoiding her gaze. If I was lucky, she would put her plate in the dishwasher and walk away.

  “Can I come?”

  Too late. Choking back a groan, I wrapped the casserole dish and put it in the fridge, wondering what to say. It was no secret to anyone except Natalie that Kaylynn wasn’t a fan.

  When I returned to the table, Jeff was watching me, his eyebrow arched in challenge. Okay then, that decision was made. “Sure, Natalie, but you have to wear shoes.”

  She darted from the room.

  “Brooke,” Jeff said. “Thank you.”

  “No problem.” It was a lie, which, from the curl to his lip, he knew.

  * * *

  As Natalie and I crawled into the car, Kaylynn muttered a greeting. I buckled up, careful not to make eye contact.

  The annoyed silence lasted until we braked at the first stop sign. “You didn’t mention that Natalie was coming.”

  “The decision was last minute.”

  Natalie spoke from the backseat. “Mama’s sick. I’ll have to live with Dad for a while.”

  Sympathy softened Kaylynn’s face. “Sorry.” She faced forward and merged onto the highway.

  The reprieve lasted until we were inside the store, heading toward the juniors department. Kaylynn caught my arm and held me until my stepsister had wandered ahead. “You should’ve told me that Natalie was coming.”

  Sometimes, every available choice had guilt attached. “You would’ve canceled.” I pulled my arm from her grasp and pushed the cart over to a rack of skirts.

  “Sure would. She’s obnoxious and embarrassing. And talking to her is like having a conversation with a dictionary.”

  “I get it, okay? Could you drop it?”

  “Whatever.” Kaylynn’s face had already sharpened into its shopping mask. “It’ll be hard to find anything here that looks expensive. And when customers spend thousands of dollars on jewelry, they want to buy from expensive-looking people.”

  “I can’t afford—”

  “I know. I’ll do my best.” She headed for the designer label section. “Pencil skirts. Blue, black, and gray.” She loaded them into my cart.

  “Why so many?” I snuck a peek at a price tag. Ouch—times three.

  “You can’t repeat an outfit in the same week. Daddy wouldn’t like that.” She threw in some silky pastel tops.

  “Would he notice?”

  “Yes.” Kaylynn huffed with interest and chose a short fitted dress in a forest green print. “This one, too.”

  Natalie rejoined us and wrinkled her nose. “Brooke shouldn’t wear anything that short. She has jiggly thighs.”

  Kaylynn shot me an I told you so look.

  I sighed, but secretly, I agreed with Natalie. Trading the green dress for another pencil skirt in maroon, I dropped it into my cart. “I’m trying these on. Be right back.”

  Everything fit fine, but the pencil skirts would require pantyhose. Ugh. After grabbing two pairs of control-top, I was more than ready to get out of there.

  Natalie continued her comments in the checkout line. “Pencil skirts aren’t comfortable.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I handed them to the cute checkout guy. He smiled. I smiled back.

  “Why not?”

  I hunted for the magic words that would turn her off. “They’re like a uniform. I don’t have a choice.”

  “Your butt will look big.”

  The checkout guy coughed.

  Could this get any worse?

  It didn’t help that Natalie was right. Height-wise, I took after my mom. But width-wise? I must have inherited those genes from my biological father, because Mom was thin and I was not. “Kaylynn, could you and Natalie take the bags to the car? Please?”

  After they left, I paid for everything, pulling more twenty-dollar bills from my purse than I’d planned. Besides the skirts and hose, I bought a pair of black pants, six tops, and silver ballet flats, which Kaylynn tried to veto but I overruled. If I was making a cringe-worthy dent in my bank account, I had to like the shoes.

  When we pulled up at our house, Natalie got out and ran to the backyard in her weird skip-hop gait. Bracing myself, I turned to Kaylynn.

  She was shaking her head. “That was painful.”

  I didn’t react. It had been more painful for me than her.

  “Promise me you won’t let Natalie tag along again.”

  “Do you mean without warning you?” My scowl should be delivering its own warning.

  “You know what I mean. I can’t take much more of her.”

  I looked through the windshield, watching as a cardinal splashed in our birdbath, carefully choosing my words. I rarely argued with Kaylynn, but I couldn’t let this go. “I won’t make that promise.”

  “Why not?”

  There were too many reasons to list, so I’d go with the one Kaylynn was least likely to debate. “I want to get along with Jeff, and being horrible to his daughter won’t work for him.”

  “Even he has to know that she’s a pain in the—”

  “Stop. Whether he realizes it or not, he won’t forgive me for shutting her out.” And I wouldn’t forgive me either.

  “It’s impossible to have fun with her around. She ruins everything.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “The Memorial Day picnic?”

  Not that again. “I told you she didn’t like hot dogs.”

  “Which doesn’t give her the right to explain in disgusting detail how they’re made.” Kaylynn sighed noisily. “The photo session before prom.”

  Okay, she had me there. “Sylvie’s dress was an ‘unfortunate shade of brown.’”

  “I had to lie about it for the rest of the night to keep Sylvie from crying.”

  “Natalie won’t make that mistake again. I’ve talked to her.”

  “Not good enough. I get why you want to keep Jeff happy, but you have to find a way that doesn’t involve your friends.”

  “We’re finished with this discussion.” I fumbled for my bags in the backseat. “Thanks for shopping with me.”

  “What will you do about Natalie?”

  I set the bags at my feet, surprised by how stubborn Kaylynn was being. Yes, Natalie was irritatingly “blunt,” and yes, when she was in a grump, everybody suffered. But when she was in a good mood, she blended into the background. My friends could get over it. “I’ll be careful about when I ask her.”

  “Sorry but no. I know this sounds bad—”

  “Ya think?”

  “—but this is our last full summer together before we graduate.” Kaylynn sagged against her seat, shaking her head. “I can’t do it. I just can’t be around her.”

  “Wait.” A sick feeling swamped me. Kaylynn and I had big plans. We’d both found Monday through Friday jobs so that we could spend nights and weekends with our friends—going to movies, swimming, taking a trip to her family’s beach house. “Arc you saying I shouldn’t come if I want to bring Natalie?”

  Kaylynn shrugged apologetically and nodded.

  “Whoa. Guess that’s clear.” I slammed out of her car, closed the door with my hip, and stumbled
up the sidewalk. As I marched up the veranda steps, the car of my best friend roared away. I dropped my bags beside a pillar and flopped into the glider, needing to let my frustration and … sadness blow away in the breeze. Why did Kaylynn make me choose?

  * * *

  After a four-mile run to cool my outrage, I showered, slipped on my nightshirt, and climbed into bed. Grabbing my scrapbook, I flipped to my highest aspirations.

  In the ninth grade, I’d added at the bottom:

  Car—to not be dependent on others

  Beside that item, I’d begun the countdown to having enough money. After today’s shopping trip, the amount I needed would increase again.

  6000

  6300

  I’d have to make up the difference with babysitting, and I wouldn’t try to calculate how long that would take.

  There was a knock on my door. Before I could hide the scrapbook, Natalie barged in.

  “Kaylynn doesn’t like me.”

  No reason to respond. It was a statement I couldn’t deny.

  “She doesn’t want me to be around her, does she?”

  The question dredged up raw feelings that I hadn’t sweated away. There was no good way to resolve this. Since Kaylynn wouldn’t be backing down and neither would I, I’d be spending my evenings at home. Natalie was smart enough to figure out why, but I hated to say the words. I hated to think the words. “Natalie—”

  “Don’t make anything up. I may be socially impaired, but my senses function quite well. I can see, and I can hear. Better than you.”

  She overheard us? I searched my memory, trying to remember what Kaylynn and I had said to each other when my stepsister had been nearby. It had probably been bad. “What part did you hear?”

  “Nothing I didn’t already know.” She backed into the hallway. “I’m not interested in being around people who don’t want to be around me, but don’t let that stop you. Do whatever you want.” The door clicked shut.

  I closed my eyes and leaned back, my head banging against the headboard. I wouldn’t compromise about Natalie. Not now. I couldn’t allow Kaylynn to dictate how I treated my stepsister. But in offering to let me off the hook, Natalie had made my decision harder, because I dreaded the thought of the empty summer stretching ahead.

  6

  Exaggerated Study

  My mother’s two careers had always kept her busy at nights and on the weekends. During the school year, she tutored kids in biology, physics, and earth science. In the summer, she umpired baseball games for a college league. Most games were within a one-hundred-mile radius, but some were as far away as Virginia.

  The other person on her ump-team lived in Raleigh, and he was always willing to drive if she asked. I loved it when they carpooled, because I got to keep her car.

  After taking Natalie to the arts center Tuesday, I backtracked across town and parked behind the jewelry store. Della was in the showroom, putting flowers in a vase. As I joined her, I saw the two of us in a mirror and blinked in surprise. I looked like a mini-Della in my dark skirt, pink blouse, pearls, and smooth knot at the nape of my neck. This was disturbing. It looked good on her. On me, it looked ridiculous.

  “Very nice. I approve.” Della smiled, her teeth beautifully even and white. “Do you know what Mr. Wilson has planned for you today? He said he’d given you a new project.”

  “Yes, merging his mailing lists.”

  “Excellent. Our office manager is back from vacation, so check in with her before starting. Mrs. Martin will watch the security cameras. You won’t have to come to the floor today.”

  No argument here. I hurried to the office and introduced myself to Mrs. Martin. She nodded vaguely and continued to sort pieces of paper into stacks. I logged in to the computer and buried myself in spreadsheets and email addresses.

  Late morning, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. Natalie.

  “Morning, ladies,” Mr. Wilson boomed from the doorway. He came to my desk and squinted at the computer screen. “Can you show me what you’ve done so far?”

  “Yes, sir.” I paged through the spreadsheet, explaining as I went.

  When he’d run out of questions, he patted me on the shoulder. “Good job. You’re further along than I expected.”

  “Thank you.” I tried not to fidget. He wore nice cologne but too much of it.

  Buzz.

  Mr. Wilson sucked in a breath that made an annoying whistle sound. “Do you know how to create graphs in Excel?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Excellent. I’ll send you my data and instructions in email.”

  My phone buzzed for the third time. Something was up. I was dying to answer it. Ignoring Natalie was never a good idea.

  My boss frowned. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” I smiled apologetically.

  “Remember what I said about personal calls.” He disappeared into his private office and shut the door.

  “Taking a break, Mrs. Martin.” I dived for the phone and hurried into the break room. There were three texts from Natalie.

  I forgot my lunch. Can you bring it?

  That was ten minutes ago. A couple of minutes later …

  Where is Jill?

  Three minutes after that.

  A guy is taking me home

  Her last text jolted me. She shouldn’t get into a car with someone she didn’t know. What was she thinking?

  Well, that was the problem. She didn’t always think things through. She acted.

  I texted her back.

  Have you left the arts center yet?

  Yes

  Where are you now?

  A minute ticked by and no response. My fear heightened. If the guy took her directly to our house, they’d be halfway there. If my mom hadn’t left for the game yet, she would be home. But when I tried calling her, it rolled to voice mail.

  “Mrs. Martin? I’m taking my lunch break.”

  She frowned. “This early?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Sorry.” I grabbed my purse and ran for the parking lot. Another text had come in from Natalie.

  In Micah’s car

  Who is Micah?

  The guy driving me home

  I slid into the car, closed the windows, and cranked up the AC. Before I pulled away, I texted her again.

  How do you know Micah?

  From the arts center

  Is he a camper?

  No

  A counselor?

  No. Stop texting me

  I got home in record time, nerves twitching. A shiny new Subaru had parked in front of our house. I pulled into the driveway and threw the car into park. Natalie was pacing on the veranda. She seemed fine, but my fear wasn’t ready to trickle away. I turned my attention to the guy with her. He leaned against a pillar, hands jammed in his pockets, shades hiding his eyes, a hint of a smile on his lips. His head shifted in my direction as I marched up the sidewalk.

  Stopping at the bottom of the steps, I crossed my arms and glared. “Are you Micah?”

  He straightened, his expression flattening. “Yes.”

  “How do you know my sister?”

  Natalie halted her pacing. “Stepsister.”

  “We met at camp.” His chin lifted.

  “She says you aren’t a camper or a counselor.”

  “All true.”

  “Then why did you drive her home?”

  “It was a better plan than letting her starve.”

  “Chill, Brooke,” Natalie said. “Dad gave the camp staff permission to drive me if necessary. Can you let me in the house? I need my lunch.”

  As I hurried up the steps, I located the key and unlocked the door. After she disappeared inside, I whirled around and faced Micah. He looked too young to be a college student. “So you’re camp staff? How old are you?”

  “Seventeen. How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  He made an exaggerated study of me from head to toe. “I would’ve guessed much older.”

  Heat rose in m
y cheeks at how skillfully he’d found my weak spot. My hand crept self-consciously to the fake pearls around my neck. “I thought camp staff were adults.”

  “That would make me the exception.” His upper lip curled into a sneer. “You must have a low opinion of your parks and rec department if you think they would’ve let a stranger drive your stepsister anywhere.”

  There was no good comeback to that, since he was right. My worry about having something bad happen to Natalie had left me looking for problems, and I’d found one that wasn’t really there.

  She banged out of the house, a lunch pack in her hand. “I’m ready. We can go,” she said as she ran by.

  “Right behind you, Natalie.” Micah came down the steps, saying softly as he passed, “You’re welcome.”

  * * *

  Around midnight, a car whined to a halt at the curb before our house. Footsteps crunched on the driveway. The front door opened and closed. I listened, expecting to hear my mom climb the stairs, but she didn’t. Minutes passed. The front door opened and closed again.

  Why had she gone back outside?

  Bolting from my bed, I ran downstairs and out to the veranda. Mom was sitting on the glider, holding a glass of wine.

  “How was the game?”

  “Draining.” She grimaced. “The Sandhill Egrets were the visiting team.”

  “Did Jerkface mess with you?”

  “Yes. He ran off his mouth, too quietly for the fans to hear, but I did and so did the second baseman.”

  Mom usually had good rapport with the players, but the Egrets’ shortstop liked to harass her, and not in a nice way. “What did he do tonight?”

  “Finley thought he’d tagged someone out. I called the runner safe, and he just couldn’t let it go.”

  I eased onto the glider beside her. “What did you do?”

  “Mostly I didn’t pay attention, but when the comments bled over into another inning, I let him know I’d had enough.” She sighed. “He’s talented, but he’s also hotheaded and undisciplined. Catchers can trash-talk him into trying for bad pitches, and he gets pissed at everyone but himself. It won’t be too much longer before he crosses the line and then…”