Blood Wounds (16 page)

I willed myself not to cry. I'd cried enough about things I knew were more important. "When will we move?" I asked. "Right after Brooke's graduation?"

"That's when we'll put the house on the market," Mom said. "Once the girls leave. It's less disruptive that way, and besides, it's a good idea to let a little time pass, give people a chance to forget what happened. But we can't afford Jack's share of the mortgage and rent on an apartment. We'll move the day someone closes on the house."

"That could be anytime," I said. "This summer. Next winter. I could start a new school halfway through the year." Like I had four years ago, I realized. No one had cared then either. "Mom, that's so unfair. You've got to see how unfair it is."

"You think I don't know that?" Mom said. "But you're not Val's daughter. She has no obligation to help you out. And frankly, you've benefited a lot from her over the past few years. So have I. We've had this house, and I got three years of college instead of working."

"I never asked for this house," I said. "And it's not like you graduated. Brooke and Alyssa get everything. They always have. Alyssa isn't even going to live with Val. And Brooke doesn't have to go to USC. She could accept the scholarship to North Carolina. They get everything, and I get nothing. That's how it's always been."

For a moment, I thought Mom was going to hit me. I think she thought so too. Her voice was shaky when she finally spoke. "Don't ever say that to Jack," she said. "And let me tell you something. I got this house for us, for you. There was another one in Smithton that Jack and Val both thought we should buy. It was bigger, and closer to Fairhaven. I was the one who insisted on this house. The other one had four bedrooms, but one was really small, and I convinced Jack that Val would insist Brooke and Alyssa get the bigger rooms and that wouldn't be fair to you. Then I convinced Val that the Smithton school system wasn't as good and if Brooke or Alyssa decided to leave Fairhaven, they'd be better off here. I was determined to send you to Westbridge because it's known for its drama department and its choir. That was the only thing I could give you, Willa, and I saw to it you got it. I wish we could stay here. I wish you could graduate with your class. But you've had a lot more than you're entitled to, and I don't want you to forget it."

"Do the girls know?" I asked, thinking about how resentful Brooke was. This was a hell of a way to pay me back for playing with her doll.

"Jack's telling them today after church," she said. "We decided to do it that way. The girls will be moving on, so they won't care. And Jack couldn't bear to tell you himself. He loves you so much, honey. It breaks his heart to see you unhappy."

I
WAS DEBATING
how to sign the e-mail I'd written to Uncle Martin when Brooke stuck her head in the room. "Are you busy?" she asked.

I typed in "Your niece, Willa Coffey," pressed Send, and shut down the computer. There was no reason to hide the e-mail from Brooke, but there was no reason to tell her about it either.

It had taken a while to track Uncle Martin down, but I finally located a Martin Penders in Blatchersville, Idaho. He owned a taxidermy business, complete with an e-mail address. There was a chance, I supposed, it wasn't the right Martin Penders, but it was still worth the try. I'd decide what to tell Mom if I heard back from him.

"I found this when I was hanging up my skirt," Brooke said, handing me Crystal's pin. "It was in the pocket."

"Oh, yeah," I said. "I forgot about it."

"It's pretty," she said. "Did you buy it in Pryor?"

"More like I stole it," I said. "No, I'm joking. I had as much right to it as anybody." I remembered how Crystal's family had wanted it for her and wished I could make the pin disappear, along with Brooke.

Brooke sat down on the sofa. "Daddy told us about selling the house," she said. "I'm sorry, Willa."

"It's okay," I said, swiveling the chair so I faced her. "It's not your fault."

"No," she said. "I'm sorry about everything. I didn't mean any of those things I said about Daddy adopting you. I hope you believe me, Willa. You're my sister, every bit as much as Alyssa, and I'm happy that Dad's going to adopt you. I hope there's a big party."

"It's not going to happen anytime soon," I said. "I'm getting Social Security from Budge until I'm eighteen, and I can use the money."

"That's great," Brooke said. "Can you use it for the mortgage?"

"It's not enough," I said. "I already asked Mom."

"Oh," she said. "Well, Daddy can adopt you on your eighteenth birthday. You could have a really big party then."

"I guess," I said. "Right now I'm kind of fathered out."

"Me too," Brooke said. "Daddy and Mom were horrible in Orlando. He and Terri never fight. It's like he's a different person when he's with Mom. It's a nightmare."

I tried to picture Val as a young wife and mother, trying desperately to save her marriage, knowing her husband was unfaithful to her. But all I could imagine was Mom trying to escape Budge before he hurt us again.

"Budge was pretty violent," I said. "I think Mom decided when she married Jack that she'd do anything to avoid fighting with him."

"There's got to be a balance," Brooke said. "Do you think we'll find it?"

"No," I said. "Do you?"

"I hope so," Brooke said. She glanced at the door and lowered her voice. "Alyssa thinks you cut yourself," she said. "She mentioned it to me months ago, but she thought you'd been doing it even longer than that."

"She doesn't have to worry," I said. "It's not contagious."

"Does Daddy know?" Brooke asked. "Or Terri? Or Lauren?"

I shook my head.

"Maybe you should talk to someone about it," she said.

"It's no big deal," I said. "It's not like drugs. I'm not addicted. I only do it when I'm really stressed out."

Brooke looked even more uncomfortable.

"What?" I said. "Lots of kids cut, but they don't have fathers that slashed their families to death?"

"That wasn't what I was thinking," she said. "I just don't like the idea that I'm adding to your stress."

"Then let's change the subject," I said.

"Okay," Brooke said. "Let's. Because this isn't about you cutting or stress. Honestly, Willa. It's something I've been thinking about for a couple of days now. The way Dad and Mom were fighting, I knew something was going on, and then Dad told us today he's putting the house on the market this summer. He didn't say so, but I know it's because I'm turning down the scholarship."

"That's only part of it," I said.

"It's the part I can do something about," Brooke replied. "If you want, I'll go to North Carolina and play lacrosse for another year. If I hate it, I can transfer, but in the meantime you'll be able to graduate with your class."

"You would do that for me?" I asked.

"I love you," she said. "And it isn't fair for you to get cheated out of senior year here."

I tried to figure it out. If Jack had less to pay in tuition and I chipped in my Social Security, maybe we could afford the house.

But Mom would still have to quit school to work full-time. Brooke would be unhappy at North Carolina and Mom would be unhappy because she couldn't finish her degree and Jack would be unhappy because he'd feel like he failed all of us.

It was hard to imagine me happy under those circumstances.

"Have you told Jack?" I asked.

Brooke shook her head. "I wanted to discuss it with you first," she said. "Tomorrow's going to be really rough at school, and you might decide you don't want to stay."

Which, of course, was what Brooke wanted. Not for the kids at school to be horrible, but for me to decide I'd be happier someplace where no one knew about Budge and me.

I could see her point. But no matter what, I'd be finishing my junior year at Westbridge, and by next year there'd be a whole other scandal for kids to be interested in.

Brooke had to know that. She was asking me so she could feel better about herself. If I said no, she shouldn't give up USC, she'd never have to tell Jack and risk his saying that's what she should do. Because it would destroy Brooke if he said that. She'd see it as proof that he did love me more than her.

I looked at Brooke the way I'd looked at Alyssa the other night. Alyssa wasn't just a spoiled selfish kid for me to hate. Brooke wasn't just a golden girl for me to idolize.

They were people. They were my sisters.

"Go to USC," I said.

"Do you mean it?" Brooke asked, and I could see her trying to hide the relief she was feeling.

I glanced at Crystal's pin, remembered the sensation of pricking my finger with it. The pin didn't belong to me. The house didn't belong to me. Even my family—Jack, Brooke, Alyssa—were loaners.

"I mean it," I said.

Brooke ran to where I was sitting and hugged me. I loved her then, for taking the gamble that I might say yes. If I had, I knew she would have gone through with it.

"I'll make it up to you," she said. "I don't know how, but I will."

"It's okay," I said. "Just come to my adoption party. Wherever it is."

Brooke nodded. "I'll be there," she said. "I'll be the happiest person there."

I
DREADED GOING BACK
to school, but on Monday I had no choice.

I knew what to expect, but I didn't know how it would feel. There are kids in school everyone knows—the popular kids, the star athletes, the high achievers. Everyone knows Brooke, who's all of those things and more.

But I fit in the shadows. Everyone likes me well enough, but no one really thinks about me. I sing in the choir. I try out for school plays, and sometimes I get a small part. I have a solid B average, and a solid B place in school. I'm Willa Coffey to those kids who know me, and Brooke McDougal's stepsister to everyone who knows her.

But now I was Dwayne Coffey's daughter.

I reminded myself I'd been Dwayne Coffey's daughter back in Pryor, and if I made it through that, I could make it through a school day. But there I'd had Faye to protect me, and Trace, and even Granny Coffey.

With Lauren gone, I only had Brooke. And we didn't have any classes together.

It wasn't like the other kids said anything, at least not to my face. It was more that sense of interrupting conversations you know are about you. My friends were the worst, because they had no idea what to say to me. I could see it in their eyes, hear it in their mumbling words of welcome. They asked if I was okay, but that was where they stopped, as though they didn't know if condolences were in order (my father had died, after all) or if it was better to pretend the past two weeks hadn't happened.

I felt like I was covered in mud and everybody was walking around me very carefully to keep from getting dirty.

Just a couple of boys were deliberately mean to me. I was in the lunch line, and I bumped into Ryan Mitchell, who was standing right ahead of me. He turned to complain and saw who I was.

"It's Killer Coffey," Ryan said. "I'm scared."

Some of the kids laughed.

"Watch out," Kyle Webber said. "She's got a knife." He play-acted cutting Ryan's head off, and the kids laughed even harder.

I didn't know what to do. I couldn't make a joke of it, not after seeing the blood Crystal and my sisters had shed. But I didn't dare start crying, because I was certain if I did, I'd never stop. And I was surrounded by kids in the line, so I couldn't drop the tray and run.

"Leave her alone," Derreck Sanders said. I know Derreck from choir. He has a pitch-pure baritone. He also weighs close to three hundred pounds and plays left tackle. The last I'd heard, he was deciding between Ohio State and Juilliard.

"It was just a joke," Ryan said.

"You're the joke," Derreck said.

I handed my tray to Derreck. "Excuse me," I said, and managed to walk away. I spent the rest of the lunch period in the girls' room, hiding in one of the stalls.

I wasn't hungry anyway.

There was a choir rehearsal after school that day. I thought about skipping it, but if Mom was home when I got there, she'd ask why I wasn't still at school.

Besides, the great thing about choir was I could always lose myself in it. I was one of many sopranos, a small part of a beautiful whole.

Mrs. Chen saw me when I walked in and asked me how I was doing.

"Fine, thank you," I said, which was what I'd said to all my teachers when they'd asked. It seemed to be what they wanted to hear.

We rehearsed the different songs we'd be singing for the recital, the seniors shining on their solos.

Then we got to "Simple Gifts," and it was my turn to shine. I loved my solo, and it was a big one too: all three stanzas alone, with the choir joining in for the choruses.

I wanted to sing, but I didn't dare. Mrs. Chen had a hard and fast rule that if you missed three practices in a row, you lost your solo. And I'd missed three.

The silence felt so strange, after all the singing. No one picked up on my solo.

"We're waiting for you, Willa," Mrs. Chen said.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I figured you reassigned the solo."

"They wouldn't let me," Mrs. Chen said, gesturing to the choir. "They handed me a petition last practice, insisting you keep it. Everyone in the choir signed it."

"Except me," Derreck said. "My father taught me never to sign anything without a lawyer." He grinned. "I owe you one, Willa."

"Not anymore," I said.

"If you're ready, Willa," Mrs. Chen said.

And I was ready. " 'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free," I sang, and for the first time in weeks, I knew what I was doing and where I was supposed to be.

I
WAS IN MY ROOM
Tuesday night when the phone rang. I was supposed to be catching up on my schoolwork, but I was fantasizing instead. Ever since I'd e-mailed Uncle Martin, I'd been giving a great deal of thought to his cult. I pictured it like a spa, with happy, fulfilled movie stars. Uncle Martin was their resident taxidermist, although I hadn't figured out yet why they would need one.

Everyone was home. Mom was back from her evening class, Alyssa from her tennis practice, Brooke from her orchestra rehearsal. Jack didn't work on Tuesdays.