Part 31 (2/2)

Her fall from grace led to her early demise when a fight with her grown- up boyfriend sent her driving, head- first, into a wall. No happily ever after for Leona. We went without a governess.

Mom took over as mother, compelling us toward the same kind of perfection her own parents demanded of her.

It came more easily to me. Poor Conner fielded the brunt of her rages, along with Dad, who steadily withdrew. From her. From us. From time to time, I return to the pages of My Big Book of Fairy Tales, as if by doing so, I might rediscover a few short memories of childhood happiness. A star in the night, perhaps.

Sat.u.r.day Morning, Late April Usually the house would be still as a crypt. But not today. I'm called downstairs to the dining room, where Mom and Dad have slipped into earnest conversation. Sit down, says Mom. You know Conner is coming home for a short visit today. There are a few things to keep in mind, according to Dr. Starr. She asked that we please not quiz him about life in Aspen Springs. As you might imagine, there is a confidentiality issue. No questions about therapy, or any of the people he knows there.

Above all, we are not to ask why he chose to attempt suicide.

Her expression seems to demand an answer. But what is the question?

Does she believe I'd argue? ”Okay.”

I look at Dad, but his resolute jaw and rail-rigid spine reveal zero emotion. I remember an afternoon many years ago, when he tried to set aside his devotion to work long enough to play with Conner and me. It was a board game-Risk- and what I recall most clearly was how he struggled not to overwhelm his children with adult strategy.

Not easy for a man whose entire existence is centered around winning.

Dad has always hated to lose. Yet Conner won twice that particular day. Not sure if it was luck, or if Dad held back, but the look in our father's eyes was half pride, half fury.

Mom Goes To Get Her Coat Sweeps past us, down the hall.

I should be back in an hour.

I hear the garage door open. Wait until I'm pretty sure she's gone.

Dad has immersed himself in the Wall Street Journal. I interrupt him anyway.

”Someone asked about Conner the other day. She saw him at the movies, I guess, with some other Aspen Springs kids, and maybe one of his doctors. I didn't know how much to tell her. Is there a particular story I should be giving?”

Dad looks up from his paper. Our eyes connect, and I find sadness in his. I don't suppose you could tell people to mind their own business, huh? A few weeks, you'll graduate.

Move on. Move away. Then it really won't matter much what your friends have to say about Conner, will it?

He doesn't get it. ”She was his girlfriend, Dad. She's worried about him, and I don't blame her. It's like he vanished without an explanation.”

Just tell her he's rehabilitating.

Getting better every day. No one knows how badly he was injured, so that's all you need to say.

Better not mention she already knows a lot more. Let him ramble in his fantasy forest in total denial.

It's a gamble, but so is chancing the truth. Kendra will probably keep her mouth shut. She has so far.

Is it Conner's reputation she doesn't want to mar? Or is it her own?

Not Much More To Say I excuse myself, return to my room.

Try not to think about anything or anyone except Dani. I wish I was with her instead of waiting for reunion with someone I barely know anymore.

After a while, the sound of Mom's Lexus lifts toward my window. She has pulled around in front of the house, as if planning a quick getaway. Past the gla.s.s and two stories below, my brother gets out of the car. I watch as he turns to look toward where Emily lived.

He won't find her there. Or anywhere close by. Even from here, I can see him processing the filtering information.

She. Isn't. There. Downstairs, I hear Mom hissing for him to please come inside. That woman doesn't live there anymore. Did you think she would?

Did he believe Mom would forgive her?

Conner responds with rage. Why wouldn't she, Mother? What the h.e.l.l did you do? Enough. I turn up my music so I don't have to hear her tell him what he doesn't want to know- that she is, and always will be, in control of all of our lives. Unless we get away. Run away. Fly away.

The Loud Exchange Between Mom and Conner rises above my music. I start to turn it up even more, when my cell signals a new text message. Dani! I rush to see what she has to tell me. Only it's not from Dani at all. It's from Kendra.

THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THIS.

GOT IT FROM AUBREE. SHE GOT IT FROM SEAN.

What? I click on the photo link. Oh G.o.d.

No! How? Sean, what have you done?

You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! You are stalking me!

In bold letters, the caption says s.l.u.t.

I'm not, and neither is she, despite how Dani and I look. On her bed.

In her mauve and sage room. Me, with my sweater up over my head.

The rest of me is stripped to skin.

My mouth is in a perfect O, as I give myself to Dani's lips, below my belly b.u.t.ton and in between my opened legs. And tiny spot of glare or no, the camera caught everything. As if that isn't enough, another text. Another photo, this when she has pulled my sweater all the way off, ducked to kiss the inside of my knee, leaving my most intimate places, plus my face, for the camera to see-and capture.

Kendra Got the Pic From Aubree. That means it has been pa.s.sed around. Who knows how far it's gone? G.o.d, it might be on YouTube by now. I think about searching it, but how? He wouldn't use my name, would he?

I guess I should be thankful for ”s.l.u.t.”

I text Dani. CHECK THIS OUT. GET BACK TO ME. I wait. Wait. Where is she?

I need to go downstairs. Should say h.e.l.lo to Conner. But I need more to hear back from her. Way more.

At last, my cell buzzes. HOLY s.h.i.+T.

WHO DID THIS? WAIT, I CAN GUESS.

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