The Illusion of Annabella (28 page)

“Anna did good tonight,” Zhara says, defending me.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” she argues, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “You’ve been doing well the last few weeks.”

“But I’ve been doing shitty for the last seven months.” I take a deep breath and look at Loki. “I think I have some making up to do.”

“I like the sound of that.” Loki tosses his tie onto the armrest. “How about I go finish up with Milo, and then we’ll talk about it some more.”

I nod, and Milo and Loki head outside into the windstorm to fill out some paper work and get everything wrapped up.

Zhara rubs her puffy eyes and stands up, smoothing her hair into place. “I’m going to go check on Nik.”

“Where is Nik?” I ask worriedly.

“I sent him next door so he wouldn’t be here while all that stuff was going on.”

“Good idea.” I’m glad Nik wasn’t around while Miller was losing his shit.

She hesitates to leave the room. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Zhara, I’m fine,” I assure her, kneading my tight thigh muscle with my knuckles. “Go check on Nik.”

“I’ll bring you some ice for your leg.”

“Sounds good.”

She reluctantly leaves me and the break gives me time to prepare myself for whatever punishment Loki is going to give me for screwing up again.

When Loki returns to the living room, he looks completely worn out, as if the last seven months have crashed over him at all once.

“I think after this, Miller’s not going to be a problem for a while. He’s probably going to be spending a long time in jail, since, yes, we are pressing charges.” He waits for an argument that never comes. Plopping down on the sofa across from me, he spreads his arms across the back. His head tips back and his eyelids close as he mutters, “I’m so tired. I just wish I could sleep for, like, an entire day.

“I’m sorry,” I say, blinking back the tears.

Confusion swirls in his eyes. “For what?”

For everything.
“For you being tired. For being a pain in the ass. For bringing Miller into our lives.” I align my fingers across four pink marks on my arm where Miller roughly grabbed me.  “For everything that happened tonight.”

“What happened tonight wasn’t your fault. Miller chose to come here on his own and force his way in.” He kicks off his shiny shoes and they hit the hardwood floor with a thud. “The only thing you did wrong, though, was getting in his way. Seriously, Anna, you should have let him just take whatever he was looking for and stayed downstairs with Zhara until the cops showed up.”

“He wanted money—Mom and Dad’s money. And he didn’t deserve it.” I massage my temples as my head pounds.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just have a little headache.”

“Why don’t we go find you something to eat and then get you some painkillers?” He gets to his feet, adding sternly, “The over-the-counter kind.”

A soft laugh escapes my lips, even though it’s not funny. But it feels so good to be able to laugh without feeling as though I’m doing something wrong.

We spend the rest of the night eating the dinner Zhara and I made and playing board games. Even Alexis joins us, but only because Loki told her she’d be grounded if she didn’t.

Just before midnight, we gather around the television and count down the seconds until midnight, taking turns, carrying on the Baker tradition even though we usually started at seven.

“Five,” Zhara says, clapping excitedly as she spins toward the end table.

Nikoli chucks his football in the air, stretching out his legs across the floor. “Four.”

Loki reaches for his soda on the coffee table. “Three.”

Alexis flops back in the sofa. “Two,” she grumbles.

I’m lying on my back with an ice pack on my leg, reading a message Luca sent me when it’s my turn.

Luca: Happy New Year, Skittles Girl

“One,” I say with a trace of a smile on my face. 

Me: Happy New Year, Skittles Freak

“Happy New Year!” We all shout while Zhara tosses a splash of glitter into the air that floats to the floor and get wedged in the cracks.

Tearing my attention away from the glitter, I look at the five of us and feel a saddening sense of peace hover over me.

From now on, this is it. The five of us here, together, holding onto what’s left of our family. I can try to run away all I want, but the reality will always be here, waiting for me when the day done.  The house may be emptier, but at least there’s a roof over my head and four people here to fill up the space and remind me that Anna’s still here. That I might not ever be that silly, happy girl who had big dreams and loved to dance, that naïve girl who had crushes and once worshipped her mother, but a part of her exists somewhere underneath the purple hair, dark eyeliner, and ankle bracelet.

And I can either choose to keep fighting who I am now or learn how to live with just being me.

The Secret to Candy, to Life

The rest of the week passes by without any more drama. Before I know it, Friday arrives and my ankle bracelet is removed, giving me two and a half days of freedom before I have to return to school on Monday. Still, standing on the sidewalk in front of my house, the air tastes better than it ever has. My leg feels lighter and my shoulders less weighed down. 

“Now, remember,” Loki says as he hikes across the lawn toward me. “Just because it’s off, doesn’t mean you can go back to wandering around. You still have physical therapy during the week, and school. And I want you to start going to a counselor, too.”

I draw my hoodie off my head and inhale another breath of freedom-kissed air. “How long to I have to go to a shrink?”

“Until I feel you’re okay.” He undoes the button on the sleeve his shirt and rolls it up then repeats the movement on the other side. Ever since he’s been spending time with the Bentons, he’s started dressing more professionally. I don’t think he’s doing it because he wants to, but because he feels like he has to appear more responsible. “I just want you to feel okay again without self destructing.”

I dig the toe of my bulky red boots into the dirt just in front of the curb. “I’ve been okay for the last few weeks. Well, compared to how I have been.” I glance up at him. “I meant what I said, Loki. I really am sorry. It may not seem like it, but I’ve been trying. I just need to figure some stuff out.”

“I know you’ve been doing okay, but I want you to do great. I want you to be that girl who used to smile all the time.” His voice conveys such passion, as if he whole-heartedly believes that I can do it—be the old ballerina, ray of sunshine Annabella.

I don’t have the heart to tell him that even if I bring some of the sunshine back, the ballerina in me might be gone forever, that my leg will never be exactly how it was before the accident. Just like me. And I have to learn to accept what is and move on; otherwise, I’ll end up down that dirt road again, throwing bricks at windows, popping pills, stealing, and getting arrest.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his tan cargo pants and rocks back on his heels, his gaze fixed on the hill line just behind our neighborhood. “I know I can’t take the place of Mom and Dad, but I really am trying to make things as close to as when they were alive. I know I suck sometimes, but I’m trying my best to do better.”

“Loki, you’re doing a good job.” A twinge of guilt seizes the center of my heart. “This thing with Family Services . . . Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He crosses his fingers with positivity gleaming in his eyes, but he looks so defeated with the dark half circles under his eyes and pale skin. “Let’s hope I can keep it that way.” He lets out a hollow laugh.

“I have a feeling things are going to get better,” I say with genuine positivity. “In fact, I had a dream about it.”

He peers up at the sunlight glistening through the clouds. “I thought you stopped remembering your dreams.”

“I did for a while, but my mind’s been a lot clearer these last few weeks without all that crap in my system. Painfully clear sometimes.”

He steps forward and clasps my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, just like my dad used to do to all of us when he was trying to give us pep talks. “It’ll get better eventually.”

“You’re the expert, so you’d know.”

He backs across the grass. “Hey, I only smoked, like, a couple of times. That doesn’t make me an expert.”

I throw a joking grin in his direction. “Is that why you spent half your senior year with your bedroom door locked and your smoke alarm shoved under your pillow?"

“That was a science experiment.” He spins on his heels and strides for the front door. “Dinner will be ready in, like, an hour. Don’t wander off, please.”

“Yes, boss.” I salute him then return back to the curb.

I glance left and right, up and down the cozy, quiet neighborhood. All I would have to do is start walking until I made it to the bench three blocks down. I could get on the bus and just go, ride it until I felt like getting off. Nothing’s stopping me anymore. Except that part of me doesn’t want to. Part of me wants to stay right where I am, where I feel safe, loved, even if it means I have to deal with the guilt, the agony, the regret—everything I feel inside.

I slip my hand into my jacket pocket and graze my fingers along the trim of the envelope that has my name written on it. I still haven’t opened the letter, but ever since New Year’s, I sometimes carry it around with me, conjuring up all kinds of ideas of what it’ll say. I know once I open it, that’s it, though. Whatever I read, I’ll have to accept whatever’s in there. Whether her words are encouraging, discouraging, there’s no going back from reading it, and I need to make sure that I can handle it.

Even though I’ve decided that I want to forgive myself, want to heal and change, I still haven’t exactly figured out how to do so. How do I become that strong, happy person again?

My phone buzzes from inside my back pocket, and I dig it out.

Cece: Hey, I was wondering if we could have lunch on Monday during lunch break. I really want 2 talk 2 u again.

My fingers hover over the buttons to type back, but then I switch to the dial pad, punch in her number, and put the phone to my ear.

“Hey,” she answers, sounding as shocked as the day she saw me with my purple hair. “I’m so glad you called.”

I lower myself down to the curb, racking my brain for what to say. “I’m sorry I haven’t talked to you in a while . . . I’ve just been going through some stuff.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. Are you okay now?”

I look down at my bare ankle. “You know what, I think I might be.”

“Good, because I miss talking to you.”

“I miss talking to you, too.” I need to get everything out in the open, instead of holding it all in like I have been. “But I need you to understand that I’m not the same person as I used to be. The accident . . . It changed me. And I’m not just talking about my hair . . . Sometimes it’s hard to talk to you because you were such a huge part of my old life.”

“Is that why you’ve been blowing me off for the last few months?”

“Partly . . . Sometimes it’s hard to be around you, too, because you’re so happy.”

“You used to be happy with me,” she whispers. “I miss that.”

“I miss that, too,” I say. “But I’m not like that anymore. Sometimes I get sad and that’s just how it is. There’s nothing I can do about it except let it pass.”

“I’m so sorry, Anna, that this happened to you.”

“Me too.” I inhale and exhale.
Deep breaths. Get through it.
“I want to have lunch with you, though. If you still want to.”

“Of course I still want to,” she says, like I’m being silly.  “And, Anna, I just want to say that I’m not dating Ben. I know that’s what it looks like, but we’re just friends.”

“It’s okay if you are.” And I mean it. Ben belongs in the past with the glitter stuck in the cracks and the boxes of ballet slippers and leotards. “I don’t think of him that way anymore.”

“But I’m not.”

“But you want to.”

“Kind of, but I’d never do that to you.”

“Maybe we can talk about it at lunch,” I suggest. “And figure it all out.”

“I’d like that,” she says, then in Cece style, she lets out a squeal that makes my ears ring. “I’m so glad you finally called! I’ve missed you so much!”

We talk for a while about guys and school, who’s dating whom. I even tell her a little bit about Luca. By the time I hang up, I’m still unsure where things with Cece will go. I don’t think we’ll ever be as close as we used to be, the best friends who spent every waking hour together talking about guys, makeup, school, dancing. Even though I still have no idea who I want to be, I know those things are no longer important to me, but maybe we can be friends.

“Thinking about running away so soon?” Luca’s voice sails over my shoulder. “Man, I know you like to wander, but I thought you’d at least give it a couple of days.”

The sound of his voice makes me both giddy and sullen as I remember the amazing, breathless, perfect kiss we shared and how I lost it right afterward.

“I might give it a few days, but I haven’t decided,” I joke without turning around. “It all depends on how bored I get.”

“Guess we’ll have to make sure you don’t get bored, then.” He moves up behind me, so close I can smell the cool, woodsy scent of his cologne. “Happy Ankle Bracelet Goodbye Day, by the way. We so need to celebrate this ever so awesome, once in a lifetime occasion. I mean, it’s not every day I get the honor of being part of a criminal’s initiation back into society.”

“I know. You’re so lucky.” I erase my silly smile, push to my feet, and face him.  “I’m guessing you already have something weird planned to celebrate.”

He has on a blue hooded jacket with a logo on the front, dark jeans, and a black knitted cap. The glasses are MIA, and I wonder if he’ll ever wear them around me again. A hundred butterflies come to life in my belly just thinking about him no longer wearing the glasses around me, because he wants to impress me.

He feigns hurt, jutting out his lip. “My ideas aren’t weird.”

“They are, too, and you want to know why? Because you’re weird. Like super weird. Like Skittles, guessing games, stealing brownies kind of weird.”

“So are you. In fact, you’re probably the strangest girl I’ve ever met.”

“I know.”

Unsaid words float between us. The wind picks up, blowing dirt and debris in the air. Strands of my hair veil around my face and get stuck against my lips. As I pluck it out, he becomes obsessed with my mouth, wetting his lips with his tongue as he stares at it. I wonder if he’s even conscious that he’s doing it. That he’s looking at me like I used to want to be looked at, as if he wants nothing more than to kiss me. My stomach feels as if it has turned into a bouncy house.

“So, about the other day with the sparklers . . .” I decide to be brave and address the big fat elephant dancing around between us.

He cups the back of his neck, staring at the bare branches of a tree lashing around. “Huh, didn’t expect you to say that. I thought we were just pretending it didn’t happen.”

I’m so ridiculously nervous. That kiss with Luca meant something to me, and whenever I’m around him, I feel giddy, scared, lost, and sometimes even happy. It makes me want to run. Makes me want to stay right where I am. Makes me want to do a lot of things that involve our lips.

“Do you want to pretend it didn’t happen?” I ask coyly, kicking at the dirt.

His eyes pop wide open as his gaze whips back to me. “
What
? No not at all . . . Do you?”

I bite on my thumbnail and shake my head. “No.”

The tension in his body gradually evaporates. “Thank God.”

“But,” I start, and his mouth curves downward, “I really like you, but right now I’m kind of, I don’t know, lost, I guess. There’s so much stuff that’s happened lately, and I think I need to take things slow, just until I can get my feet under me again, if that makes sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.” He glances over at his house, like he’s going to leave, most likely because he thinks I suck. “You wanna see something I haven’t really shown anyone before?”

“It wouldn’t, by chance, be how you miraculously guessed what candies I wanted? Because I’m still waiting for that.”

“Actually, it kind of has to do with that.” He holds his finger and thumb a sliver apart. “A little bit, anyway.” He extends his hand out for me to take. “Come on and I’ll show you.”

I think twice before lacing my fingers through his. Is this taking it slow? I’m not sure, but it feels so good, okay, right, so I stop analyzing and go with it.

We hold hands as we wind around the fence and cross the yard to his house.

“It smells like a burnt Christmas tree in here,” I say when I get a whiff of the charcoal scent lingering in the entryway that’s covered with Barbie dolls and glittery princess stuff.

He lets go of my hand to shuck off his jacket. “That’s because the tree almost burnt down.”