Blood Wounds (2 page)

Because Jack had never adopted me, my name hadn't been changed to McDougal. Everyone at school knew Brooke McDougal, but only those kids who knew her or me well knew we were stepsisters. To everyone else, I was just Willa Coffey, reasonably pretty, with a nice voice, good grades, and a handful of friends.

I
REMEMBER SOMETHING ELSE
that happened that night, something I might not have remembered if things had stayed the same.

It was after supper. Alyssa and I were in our room. I was studying for my French test. Alyssa, who should have been studying, was on her laptop. Brooke knocked on the door and came in carrying three red sweaters. Two were bright red and one was burgundy, but they were all red sweaters.

"Mom's been going crazy since she came back," Brooke said. "I didn't even know they sold sweaters in Orlando."

Val had been transferred to Orlando in August. Brooke didn't want to start a new high school senior year, and although Alyssa had been willing to move to Florida, it was only to go to a tennis academy and Jack had said she was too young. Val had taken to sending the girls packages two or three times a week, clothes mostly, but also books and jewelry and whatever was newest in electronics.

"What are you going to do with all those sweaters?" Alyssa asked.

"There's no point keeping them," Brooke said. "There're another three in my bedroom. Willa, would you like a red sweater? Or two? Or five?"

This was a ritual we had. Brooke always asked me first if I wanted what she was discarding. And I always said no, since I was uncomfortable taking things that her mother had paid for.

"How about you, Lyss?" Brooke asked. "Could I interest you in a red sweater or two? Or five?"

"No, thanks," Alyssa said. "Mom's sent me a half dozen too."

"I'll give mine to the St. James rummage sale, then," Brooke said. "Someone might as well get use out of them."

The St. James rummage sale has made a fortune from Brooke's donations over the years. I've bought a few things there myself, but never anything Brooke donated.

"Do you really think you'll go to USC?" I asked.

"If I can convince Mom," Brooke replied. "She's the one who'll be paying."

"Would you take Sweetbriar with you?" Alyssa asked.

"She's not worth transporting," Brooke said. "I've wanted a better horse for a while now anyway. Someone will buy her."

Val had given Brooke Sweetbriar for her ninth birthday. I still remembered how astounded I'd been that someone could actually own a horse.

Brooke looked thoughtful. "Maybe this vacation thing will work out," she said. "If Gram sees me on Sweetbriar, she'll see why I need a new horse. And if I'm at USC, she and Grandy can come over from Palm Springs to see me ride. I'll ask them for a horse for my birthday, and Mom can give me a car, and Daddy won't be able to say a thing."

Brooke had been complaining since she got her license that all her friends had cars and she didn't. But this was the first time I'd heard her say she wanted a new horse. "I'll miss Sweetbriar," I said.

"That's because you don't have to ride her," Brooke said. "Okay, it's set. Dressage in Maryland, a nice long flight to talk about horses, then a few days of skiing."

"How about coming with us, Willa?" Alyssa asked.

"With you where?" I asked.

"To Brussels," Alyssa said. "I've been looking it up and there are plenty of flights from Brussels to Madrid. You could fly with us and visit Lauren and then come back and see me in the quarterfinals. You have a passport, don't you?"

I did. Mom had gotten me one a few years ago, just so I'd have one like Brooke and Alyssa. Only they used theirs.

"I can't afford a trip to Europe," I said, which was something Alyssa knew perfectly well.

"Gram and Grandy would pay if we asked them," Alyssa said. "They like you, Willa. They're always telling me you're a good influence, because you're so quiet and well behaved. You'd only have to pay for roundtrip between Brussels to Madrid. You have money saved up from your job last summer. Spend it on plane fare."

There were so many reasons why Alyssa's plan wouldn't work that I couldn't figure out where to begin. Asking Val's parents for an expensive present. Spending money I'd saved for college on a trip to Europe.

But what held me back from even fantasizing was my doubt that Lauren wanted to see me. When she first got to Spain, we e-mailed all the time. But I hadn't heard from her in more than a month, and that was after I'd e-mailed her three times, telling her what was going on in school. All she wrote back was that she loved Madrid and that her host family had asked if she could stay on with them through the summer and her parents had said yes. None of which sounded to me like she was in the mood for a drop-in visit from me.

"I'd better not," I said. "Mom'll be mad if I don't study during vacation."

"You could study on the plane," Alyssa said. "I do all the time."

"You don't study anywhere," Brooke said. "Besides, I have a better idea. Come with me to Maryland, Willa, for the dressage test. Alyssa's right about one thing. Gram's always saying what a nice girl you are. She'll listen if you tell her how I'm longing for a new horse."

"Longing?" I said.

Brooke laughed. "Gram likes a little drama," she replied. "Come on, Willa. Say yes. You and Terri and Gram and me for the weekend. It won't be Madrid, but it'll still be fun."

Brooke, I knew, would be having fun, since she'd be hanging out with her riding friends. But Mom would probably appreciate having me along, since it was hard for her to socialize with Val's parents.

"I'll ask Mom," I said.

Brooke hugged me. "Remember," she said, "I'm longing for that new horse. I won't survive freshman year without one."

"I'll remember," I said. "But I'll still miss Sweetbriar."

"Well, I'm not going to miss these sweaters," Brooke said. "I'll take them downstairs now. See you in the morning. Lyss, you be nice to Willa. I need her!"

Brooke left the room, waving the sweaters over her head. Alyssa went back to her laptop, and I tried to concentrate on my French.

Alyssa fell asleep first. She always did, exhausted from her tennis practices, her workouts, and her running. She didn't set the alarm, but I knew she'd wake up around five. She liked to jog for an hour before school. Maybe she'd get her homework done, and maybe not.

I lay in bed. I usually had trouble falling asleep. That night, like most others, I tried to synchronize my breathing with Alyssa's. Sometimes that worked. That night it didn't.

I was still awake when Jack and Mom came upstairs. I heard them knock softly on Brooke's door and whisper good night to her. They peeked in on Alyssa and me. I pretended, as I always did, to be asleep, so they wouldn't worry.

The lights went out, first in Mom and Jack's bedroom, then in Brooke's. I was alone, as I was so many nights, surrounded by my family but alone with my thoughts.

Everyone was asleep. I could get out of bed, leave my bedroom, walk quietly downstairs to the kitchen and then down to the basement, and go to my spot, my private spot by the furnace where I kept my razorblades and peroxide and bandages, all hidden where no one could find them.

Only a little cut, I told myself. A quick one on my left calf. A half inch long. Just enough to get me through the night.

Sometimes when I cut, I can't explain to myself why I need to. But that last time, five days earlier, I understood exactly what was going on.

I'd come home from choir practice to find the house was empty. Mom had left a note saying Alyssa was at tennis practice and Brooke had needed a lift to the riding academy.

I was glad to be alone. I had known as soon as I entered the house that I wasn't going to make it through the rest of the day without cutting.

Mrs. Chen, the choirmaster, had assigned solos for the spring concert. To my astonishment and delight, I'd been given one.

I thought about how excited Mom would be when I told her, and then I decided not to, to keep it secret until the concert itself. Jack loves surprises, and Mom would be thrilled, and Brooke and Alyssa would get a big kick out of it too.

Just picturing it, the solo and how my family would react, made me happier than I could ever remember being.

But after practice ended, Mrs. Chen drew me aside. "You know I reserve the big solos for seniors at the spring concert," she said. "But you have a very special gift, Willa. I don't think you understand how good you could be."

"I love singing," I said. "Just being in the choir is wonderful."

"I don't want you to think I'm pushing you," Mrs. Chen said, then laughed. "All right. Maybe I am pushing a little. But I hate to see a talent like yours go to waste. Have you thought about getting a voice coach?"

I shook my head.

"There are so many excellent ones in Philadelphia," she said. "Where does Brooke get her violin lessons? Locally or in Philly?"

Brooke is first violinist for the school orchestra, so there was no way Mrs. Chen was unfamiliar with her. Still, her question surprised me.

"Locally," I said. "She's had the same teacher for years."

"I'm sure there are good local voice coaches," Mrs. Chen said. "But I really think you'd be in better hands with one in Philly. I can come up with a few recommendations if you'd like. How about if I talk to your parents about it?"

Westbridge High may not be a private school, but the kids here are rich. Their parents, like Val, earn hundreds of thousands of dollars, and the kids, like Brooke and Alyssa, take tennis and golf and dressage and music lessons.

But Jack earns maybe ten percent of that, and Mom doesn't get paid for looking after us. The money I'd earned last summer as an au pair was going to help pay for college.

I could understand why Mrs. Chen figured if there was money for Brooke's lessons there would be money for mine, but she was wrong, and I certainly didn't want to put Mom in the position of having to explain that.

"I'll ask my mother," I said, knowing I wouldn't. I'd learned a long time ago not to ask for the things I couldn't have.

I had never thought about voice lessons before Mrs. Chen suggested them. I should have been happy Mrs. Chen complimented me, excited to have the solo. I was lucky to go to a school with such a great choir.

I knew all of that, but I'd run to my private space in the basement anyway and cut my right thigh. I'd cut deeper than I'd intended, so it was a relief no one was home to hear when I cried out in pain. The kind of pain I needed to keep me from thinking about all the things I wanted and could never have.

Five days. My rule was never cut more than once a week, and better still to wait ten days or even two weeks. Last year there'd been a stretch when I'd gone seventeen days without cutting. I hadn't told myself I couldn't. I just hadn't felt the need.

I felt the need then, though, as I lay on my bed, listening to Alyssa's steady breathing. I felt the need as I thought about my happy family. But it had only been five days.

I closed my hands into the tightest fists possible, my fingernails pressing into my palms. It wasn't as good as cutting, but it was all I allowed myself.

That's what I remember from that night. The sweaters, the planning, the laughter, the invitations, the need.

I
WAS THE FIRST ONE
home from school. I usually was, since Brooke and Alyssa had so many more activities than I did, and Mom had either her classes or her chauffeuring. Jack wouldn't be back until after supper.

We keep two charts in the kitchen, one to remind everyone where we all were scheduled to be, and the other to tell us which chores we were expected to do around the house. The chores rotated, so we each had a week of them every month, regardless of other obligations (although we all traded on occasion). It was my week for dusting and vacuuming, and I figured I'd get to that after I'd checked for phone messages and before I began my homework.

That was what I was thinking about when I picked up the phone to see if there were any messages. Whether I should dust and vacuum before I did my homework or after.

There were four messages, all in the past two hours.

That was a lot, but not unheard of. We knew that if there were any last-minute changes in our schedules we were to call home and leave a message. Then whoever got in first could call Mom or Jack and let them know what was going on. Jack called the voice mail our bulletin board, and it was a pretty good system.

The first message was from Faye Parker, Mom's best friend since first grade. They live two thousand miles apart now, since Mom and I moved to Pennsylvania when I was four and Faye stayed at home in Pryor, Texas. Faye had visited Mom and me only once, when Jack took the girls to Shanghai for the first time, but she and Mom talked regularly.

"Terri, this is Faye. I'm at work and I can't find your cell number. Do me a favor and call when you get in. Thanks. It's kinda important."

We keep a pad by the phone in the kitchen. I wrote down, "Call Faye," and went to the second message.

"It's me again. Terri, I don't want you to get concerned or anything, but there's an Amber Alert for one of the twins. I'm not sure what's going on, but I really need you to call me as soon as you get in."

Faye didn't have any kids, so I tried to figure out who the twin might be, and why Faye or Mom would care. It was possible Mom's brother, Martin, had twins. Martin and his wife live in Idaho, in some kind of cult. The last Mom heard, they had eight daughters, but since Martin thought Mom was an infidel for leaving her husband, he'd stopped talking to her. Martin's ten years older than Mom anyway, and they were never very close. He might have twins, although most of his daughters were older than I was, so I couldn't see why there'd be an Amber Alert for any of them. Maybe the twin was one of his grandkids; Mom figured he must have a boatload by now. I wasn't certain how Amber Alerts worked, but maybe they were national and Faye had heard about it somehow.

The third message was thirty minutes old. "Terri, call me as soon as you can. It sounds like Budge is in a lot of trouble. Have you heard from him? Just call me, okay?"