Fade to Us Page 7

  “Um, yeah.”

  She dug into her pocket and tossed an object onto the bed. “There you are.”

  “Wait,” I said, snatching it up. “That’s my phone.”

  “If you look in your contacts, I’ve added two. Norah and Elena. You already had Micah.” She snorted in exasperation. “Your birthday is not a good password.”

  Oh, no, she did not. I held in a scream, but it was a struggle. “Phones are off-limits to everyone except their owner.”

  “More rules. Do you want me to delete those phone numbers?”

  “No, it makes sense to have them.”

  “I thought so, too.” She went to the window and looked out.

  What should I do next? Order her to leave and lock the door behind her? Change into shorts and go run for two miles? Kick something?

  She’d taken over my house. Trashed my bathroom. Driven away my friends. Disrupted the relationships building in my family. And now … invaded my privacy. How much more could I take?

  “Natalie, you can go,” I said through gritted teeth.

  She didn’t respond. Not a muscle twitched. Something about the way she hunched against the window frame made me pause. I shifted until I could see her face. She was staring blankly ahead, her mouth slack. It had been a horrible day for her.

  My anger faded. I’d have to bring this up again, but I would let it go tonight. “I’m listening if there’s anything you want to say.”

  She shrugged and picked at a scab on her knuckle.

  Since she hadn’t refused, I’d keep pushing. Gently. “What was the trigger today? Is it how the other campers treat you?”

  “They’re tolerable,” she said in a flat voice. “Nicer than people are at my school.”

  “Are the kids at school mean?”

  “Not mean, exactly. I’d say that the way they treat me is peculiar. More like I’m a zoo animal than a person.” A fist bounced against her leg. “I figured it out when I was visiting a primates exhibit once. People were staring at the gorilla, wondering what he would do next, hoping to be fascinated or creeped out. When he did something gross, they gasped and leaned closer. But when nothing more happened, they got bored and walked off.” The fist-thumping ended. “All the gorilla wanted was to be left alone. Instead, he was caged and made to entertain people against his will. I felt sorry for him until I realized the cage protected him. Then I was jealous.”

  She was more aware of how people viewed her than I’d realized. “I’m sorry, Natalie.”

  “It’s okay. If the gorilla has to be caged, at least he’s in a beautiful habitat all his own. The masses come to see him. I think it’s better to be alone and interesting than to be one more dreary person in a crowd.” She faced me. “Who is the man in the drawing?”

  I’d never told anyone this before, but she’d shared something intensely personal with me, and I wanted to take my turn. Strangely, though, I trusted her with my secret. “It’s an artist’s rendering of my biological father.”

  “The sperm donor?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you didn’t know who he was.”

  “I don’t. I handed over the information I’d collected to one of those police sketch artists, and she created that drawing for me.”

  “Very clever. Does Jill know?”

  “No, and please don’t tell her.”

  “I don’t plan to.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why did you care enough to go to the trouble?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You probably do, but I can understand why you wouldn’t want to analyze it.” She shuffled across the room and dropped into the desk chair. “I’m ready. What else would you like to know about my meltdown?”

  “You’re okay talking about it?” She’d never been willing before. This was unexpected—and good.

  “I offered, didn’t I?”

  I crawled onto my bed as I mentally organized my questions. I would start with an easy one. “How bad was it?”

  “On a scale of one to five, I’d say a three.”

  “It seemed worse than that.”

  “You’re my stepsister. You’re destined to overestimate things about me.”

  My lips twitched. “That almost sounds like you’re teasing.”

  Her tiny smile flashed so quickly that I nearly missed it. “Humor was the intention.”

  “Okay, next. Can you tell me how a meltdown feels?”

  She tilted her head to stare at the ceiling. “Itchy. And bad. You get so mad at yourself, because you know the thing that set you off isn’t worth the reaction you’re having, but you can’t control it. It’s like … knocking over a cup of tea. It goes everywhere, staining as it spreads, but you can’t take it back. You just have to get over yourself and mop up the mess.”

  Life felt the same way to me sometimes. “You haven’t told me what exactly caused today’s meltdown.”

  “Must we go into that?” Her tone said that she knew we did.

  “We must.”

  “I can’t overlook what people say about my voice.”

  “What about it?”

  “The girl next to me in the chorus said that I sing my line too loud, and it doesn’t sound good.”

  Frustration tickled in my throat. The whole miserable day had been triggered by a cast member butting herself into something that wasn’t her business. “If it bothered the music director, she would’ve told you.”

  “I said the same thing. The girl didn’t mention it again, but I couldn’t stop worrying about whether she was right.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “If I know who it was, I can decide how to handle it.”

  “Involving adults rarely helps and usually makes things worse.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “If I promise not to involve an adult, will you give me a name?”

  “Tesla.”

  Uh-huh. Tesla had played a role in the high school’s spring musical. She must be upset that an unknown had gotten a solo line while she was stuck in the chorus. But she wasn’t someone I thought of as being mean. Maybe she’d been having a bad day, too.

  Maybe what she’d said about Natalie’s voice had been true. I hoped not. “I’ll think of something.”

  “If she retaliates…”

  “She won’t. She’s usually a nice person.”

  Natalie’s chin lowered until she could see me. “You realize, of course, it’ll be something else that sets me off next time.”

  “Is there anything you can do to prevent your feelings from getting out of control?”

  “The Hamilton soundtrack can sometimes neutralize a slow-building attack. The lyrics are engrossing and take me outside myself. My psychologist wants me to think about waves washing up on the beach, but that doesn’t work as well as she hoped. And my meds always solve it, but I don’t like the idea of getting addicted.”

  Her voice shook on the word addicted. Like it was major fear of hers. Maybe I should ask Jeff why that worried her so much. For now, preventing a meltdown from ever happening seemed like the best option. “Lisa said that you didn’t want anyone to help you except Micah.”

  “He’s the only one I completely trust.”

  “What about Norah?”

  “She’s nice, too. But…” Natalie shrugged. “I just get along better with males. They don’t judge as much. And Micah says there are kids on the autism spectrum in the theater department at his high school, so he understands.” She pinched her knuckles. “Do you think I should quit?”

  “No.” I shook my head firmly. “Lisa told me that she enjoys having you in the show. She wouldn’t have said so unless it was true.”

  “But we don’t have a solution for emergencies yet.”

  “Your family will figure something out. Like we said. Everything will be fine.”

  “Do you think your boss will let you help me?”

  I flicked off my bedside lamp. Some truths were best told in the dark. “I’m afr
aid he’ll say no.”

  10

  Expected and Dreaded

  My first project Friday morning was to tackle my boss. I went to his office and stood in the doorway, ignoring the flutter of nerves. “Mr. Wilson?”

  “Hmm?” He sat behind his chrome desk, frowning at his iPad.

  “May I ask a favor about my schedule?”

  His gaze remained on the screen. “Go ahead.”

  “I have to be on call in the afternoons. To check on my stepsister.”

  He looked up. “I didn’t know she was here.”

  Interesting. Kaylynn hadn’t told him. What else hadn’t she mentioned? “Natalie’s living with us for the summer.”

  He folded his hands on the desk, his complete attention on me now. “What’s the problem?”

  “Natalie has a health issue. It would be best if she has someone who can check in with her in the afternoons.”

  “Not the mornings?”

  “My mom’s available in the mornings.”

  “Will your stepsister require help every day?”

  “It won’t be that often.” The expression on his face didn’t look promising. “Probably not every week.”

  “But it’s possible.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He picked up a pen and tapped it against the desk. “Could you fit one of these checks into your afternoon break?”

  “I would need closer to an hour.” Only in the most optimistic of circumstances would that be true.

  “One of your main duties is to replace other staff who aren’t available, which requires that you be in the store.”

  “If Natalie needed me, I could call that my lunch break.”

  “Is it predictable when you’d go?”

  “No, sir.”

  “We can’t plan our whole schedule around the possibility that you have to leave for an hour at a moment’s notice. It’s not fair to the other staff. I’m sorry, but the answer is no.” He bent over his computer.

  I went to my desk and perched on the edge of my chair, hands in my lap, staring at the bouquet of fresh flowers that Della had left there. They were pretty and, most days, they would’ve made me smile. But not today. When Natalie got home this afternoon, she’d ask for the verdict, and she would hear the answer that she expected and dreaded.

  I put my hands on the keyboard and logged in to the computer. There was an email from Mr. Wilson. I clicked on the attachment and began to read, but thoughts of my stepsister wouldn’t let me go. I could just imagine her reaction. There would be a flash of alarm in her eyes, and her face would go blank. She’d obsess over how it would feel to be alone in a staff lounge, trying not to explode, unsure if it would be ten minutes or an hour before her family rescued her.

  Natalie would use the word quit again and mean it.

  I refocused on the computer screen and the attachment. Mr. Wilson had downloaded website data from Google Analytics, and he wanted me to play around with it to look for patterns. I would enjoy this project.

  My hands slipped back to my lap as anguish shivered through me. We’d have our trembling puppy back, and it would be my fault. I couldn’t let that happen to Natalie. Not this summer. Definitely not today.

  I would beg my boss again—this time with a schedule he could count on. I stood, smoothed my skirt, and returned to his office. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Wilson.”

  “What is it now?”

  “Could I work part-time? Mornings only?”

  He sighed. “My staff have their vacations planned. I need you to cover for them, which means you have to be in the store nine to five.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Brooke.” He frowned. “Do you want this job? Yes or no?”

  I did want the job, but I wanted to help Natalie, too.

  Two thousand dollars. That’s the income I could be giving up if I quit. Maybe I should take the weekend to brainstorm other ideas.

  Wait, no. I didn’t have to think through this any further. Natalie needed to count on her family more than I needed this job. I was a hard worker. I would find something else.

  I’d barely earned enough this week to cover the clothes I’d bought, but that was the way it would have to be. “The answer is no. I’ll resign.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I want to help my stepsister, even if it means I quit.”

  His lips thinned. “I’m disappointed in you, Brooke. I gave you the job because Kaylynn said you were the most responsible teenager she knew. I would’ve expected you to show more professionalism.” He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. “There’s no need to stay any longer. Go ahead and pack your things. I’ll have a check ready before you leave.”

  * * *

  I walked home from the store and climbed the steps to the veranda. When Mom bought this house, it had been an eighty-year-old fixer-upper on a big, overgrown yard. The veranda had sold us.

  Sagging onto the glider, I closed my eyes. I’d had a tough morning. A few moments out here might make it better.

  A barking dog nudged me from my stupor. Okay, not better. I rose and entered the house. Hearing voices drift from the kitchen, I walked back there and stuck my head in.

  Jeff had his tablet propped on the counter and his phone against his ear. “I understand,” he was saying. “I’ll check on it and let you know. Certainly. Good-bye.” He set his phone down and eyed me curiously. “Did you come home for an early lunch?”

  I shook my head.

  Mom glanced over from the stove, then set down her spoon. “Is anything wrong?”

  “I quit my job.”

  “What?” They spoke in unison.

  “I asked Mr. Wilson if I could work part-time or be on call in the afternoons. He said no to both. So I resigned.” I turned around, not wanting to see their reactions. “I’ll be in my room, if you need anything.”

  Running footsteps caught up with me in the foyer. Mom’s arms wrapped around me and so did her scent. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re giving up your—”

  “I know.” I couldn’t talk about it yet. Or ever.

  “Oh, honey. You make me proud.” She kissed my cheek and ran back to the kitchen.

  Upstairs, I went into my closet and stripped off the mini-Della outfit that I would never wear again. I would put a trip to Target on the schedule this weekend and try to return the stuff I hadn’t worn yet. After changing into shorts and a T-shirt, I stretched out on my bed. It felt unreal, what I’d done. The kind of thing a badass heroine might do in a movie. I didn’t feel badass, though. More like something numb that was awakening painfully. I stared hot-eyed at the wall, hating that I’d been forced into this choice.

  What did I do next?

  It was odd to have a summer with nothing planned. I wasn’t sure what to do. I’d never been much on hobbies. I liked working. No, what I really liked was earning a paycheck.

  I had to think about the money.

  Scooting to the edge of my bed, I opened the bottom drawer in the nightstand, pulled out my scrapbook, and flipped to the page with the amount I still needed to earn to buy a car. Mr. Wilson had given me a check for three hundred and thirty dollars.

  6300

  5970

  I’d never been so discouraged about my chances for buying a car.

  There was a knock at the door. I closed the scrapbook and slipped it behind my pillows. “Come in.”

  Jeff opened the door. “What you did today means a lot to me.”

  “It’s fine.” My fault. My solution.

  “It’s huge. You gave up your job for Natalie. I can’t…” He pressed his lips together and looked at the floor.

  Okay, I was really uncomfortable with where this conversation was headed. I had to get him out of here before we both got emotional. “She deserves a good summer.”

  “You do, too.” He looked up. “Would you let us pay you?”

  “For what?”

  “Babysitting.”

  B
linking against the sting in my eyes, I bowed my head. “She’s my family. It’s not babysitting.”

  He came into the room and paused at the foot of the bed, close enough that I got the faintest whiff of his aftershave. “Thank you, Brooke.”

  I didn’t look up. “Sure.”

  He shifted awkwardly, as if he had more to say. I should let him. But when I raised my eyes, he was already walking away. He shut the door behind him with a soft click.

  I hadn’t wanted thanks, but it was nice that he’d tried.

  11

  Hesitating in the Shadows

  Mom made me and Jeff grilled cheese sandwiches. The best kind of comfort food. If it was supposed to make me feel better, it succeeded.

  After lunch, things got quiet fast. Mom grabbed an overnight bag and ran out to her carpool. Now that I was around to cover for Natalie, Jeff left for the construction site.

  There was nothing on TV that interested me. I was too restless to stream anything from Netflix. And it was too hot to go for a run.

  The silence drove me from the house. I flopped into the hammock, but it was too hot for that, too. I ended up in the Honda and found myself driving to the arts center.

  When I walked in the rear of the auditorium, six cast members were sitting on the edge of the stage. Lisa perched against a small table in front of the first row, talking in a quiet, insistent voice. Micah sat behind the table, writing in a big black binder.

  I stepped into the back row and dropped onto the thickly cushioned seat. As if he felt my presence, Micah whipped around, met my gaze, and faced forward again. Touching his mother’s shoulder, he spoke in her ear, then walked this way. I was his destination.

  “Are you here for Natalie?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s doing great today.”

  “Is it okay if I wait here for her?”

  His brow creased. “There are three more hours until she’s done.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Then—”

  “Micah?” Someone spoke from behind me.

  “Yes, Elena?”

  “The seamstress wants to know if she can measure for costumes on Wednesday afternoon instead of Tuesday morning.”

  “That works. After two.”

  The camp manager hurried past us down the aisle and disappeared through a door at the side of the stage. I looked back at Micah, intrigued. He hadn’t checked a schedule or hesitated. Just agreed and moved on. That kind of confidence was hot.