All I really want is a family. I know it’s not something that’s going to come to me easily, but that night, for a small sliver in time, I felt as if I had one.
I had a smile on my face the entire night. It only went away when I walked into our trailer and had to stop playing pretend and adjust back to my reality.
A shock of cold air greets me in our trailer when Lila drops me off after work.
I go over to the heater to turn it up. We keep the heat either off or on low when we aren’t home, to save money, but as I adjust the temperature, nothing comes out. It’s always a little frigid in the trailer even with the heater working. I don’t want to think about how cold it’s going to get tonight. Even though it’s early March, it’s still pretty chilly outside. I wrap myself up in my sleeping bag and put on my wool hat and a pair of fingerless gloves while I finish up my homework.
Headlights flash into the window and I bundle up tighter waiting for Hayley to come through the door and freak out over the heating situation.
I fight the bile rising in my throat as I hear her key in the door, and wrap myself tighter still when I hear Evan’s voice.
Hayley’s fake laughter bursts through the door with her. “You’re so bad!” She swats Evan’s hand off her butt.
“Hey, little one,” Evan says with a wink.
I nod and return to my homework. Wishing, praying they’ll go back to her room and leave me alone.
“It’s freezing in here!” Hayley screams while she runs over to the thermostat.
Evan sits down right next to me. He presses his leg into mine. I’ve never been so grateful for a sleeping bag as a barrier.
“Why didn’t you turn it up?” Hayley asks.
“I think it’s broken.” I hold my breath, knowing somehow she’ll find a way to blame this on me.
She fiddles with the thermostat while cursing under her breath. I continue highlighting the reading selection for English, while ignoring Evan’s hot tobacco breath on my neck. “Need help?” he offers. “I used to do good in English.”
Yes, so it seems.
“I’m fine,” I reply, scooting over a few more inches to get space between us.
He follows me and puts his arm around me. “I’ve got a great idea for how you can warm up.”
“Evan!” Hayley calls out. “Can you look at this stupid thermostat? I need to have a talk with my sweet baby sister.”
Of course Hayley isn’t upset at Evan for practically sitting on my lap. She, instead, is going to get mad at me for something I can’t control. All I hope is that it won’t cost too much to get the heater fixed. Evan spends all of three seconds looking at the thermostat before giving up and heading into Hayley’s bedroom.
“It wasn’t working when I got home,” I begin to explain.
“Of course,” Hayley says in a surprisingly understanding tone. She sits down next to me and takes my cold hands into hers. “How are you doing? Everything good?”
I’m taken aback by her questions. These are the kind of questions any sister—or, in our case, guardian—should ask, but I can’t remember the last time she seemed to truly care about what was going on with me.
“Everything’s fine,” I lie. As much as I’d love to open up to my sister, I don’t entirely trust her motives.
“What’s new?” She crosses her legs, leaning back into the couch. “How are things with Brady? And work?”
“Good,” I reply cautiously. “How are things with you?”
“Great!” Her voice rings false. We both know things aren’t great. “Nothing new, then? Something that may have slipped your mind?”
I study Hayley, wondering what she’s getting at. We haven’t had a real conversation in months. There is a lot I haven’t told her, but she hasn’t seemed to care.
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”
What I really want is to smash the wall that’s been built between us. But I don’t trust her. It makes me so sad, and frustrated, that I can’t trust my own sister, but Hayley isn’t the same person she used to be.
Then again, who really is?
Hayley reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I feel a crack in our wall. It’s such a tiny gesture, but it’s intimate and caring. Something I’ve been craving from her, or any family member, for nearly a year.
“See, I know you’re a lying little bitch.” She wraps her hand around a section of my hair and yanks down hard.
I cry out in pain. “What are you doing? Please, Hayley!”
She lets go of my hair and stands up. “I ran into Gabriela Kaplan today at the coffee shop. Imagine my surprise when she started telling me how my sweet baby sister has been tutoring her daughter.”
No. It never even occurred to me to tell Mrs. Kaplan that my tutoring is a secret. How could I? I’d have to admit there are problems with Hayley.
Everybody has their secrets, but this is my biggest. Nobody, and I mean not a single soul, has any idea things have gotten this bad. If one person finds out Hayley is unfit to be my guardian, I’ll be taken away. While that might appear to be a promising solution to my problems, I have no idea what would happen to me. I’d rather take my chances on the devil I live with.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a whimper. “It’s not much money. I’ve been saving it for college.”
Hayley’s laugh is cruel. “Oh, it’s so precious you think you’re going to escape. You think you get to have some perfect life while I’m left here to rot? Think again.” She holds out her hand. “I want that money. Now.”
“I don’t have it. I used it to pay for the SAT I’m taking in a couple weeks.” This isn’t a total lie. I did use some of my tutoring money, but the rest is in the safe at Lila’s house, where it belongs.
She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her phone. “Do I need to call that woman and ask her how much money she’s given you? You need to pay your way around here. There aren’t any free rides.”
My entire body is shaking, and not just from the temperature. I stand up. “I have more than paid my dues. I’m not going to give you a single extra cent to pay for your cigarettes, booze, and overpriced coffees.”
“How dare you?” She spits at me. “Do you have any idea how hard I’m working?”
“Do you have any idea how hard I’m working? And I also have school. Besides, I haven’t given up like you.”
The second I say it, I regret it. Hayley’s eyes narrow. “You spoiled little brat.”
A laugh escapes my throat as I unzip myself from my sleeping bag. “Oh yes, I’m so spoiled. I haven’t bought a new item of clothing in a year. What about you?” I run over to the closet and start pulling out all of Hayley’s new clothes. “Here’s twenty-four dollars!” I yell as I throw a scarf that still has its price tag on. I feel as if everything I’ve been holding in for the last several months releases and it can’t come out fast enough.
“And don’t even get me started on your coffee habit.” I pull out the trash can from under the sink. I start throwing empty cups at her while screaming, “Four, five dollars per cup! This is where your money’s going. Don’t blame it on me.”
There’s a knock at the front door. “Everything okay in there, girls?”
Hayley and I exchange matching looks filled with panic. I swallow down the rest of my venom and try to calm down while Hayley pushes me out of the way.
She opens up the door to our elderly next-door neighbor. “Hello, Mrs. Richards,” Hayley coos. “I’m so sorry if we’re being loud—simply a little sisterly argument. We’re all made up now. No worries at all. You have a lovely evening.”
“Wanted to make sure everything’s okay in here,” she says as she looks over at me. I can barely produce a smile to convince her my life isn’t hanging together by a fraying piece of thread. “We’ve got to look out for each other.”
“Yes, we do,” Hayley replies before shutting the door.
That’s rather ironic since I can’t remember the last time Hayley looked out fo
r anybody but herself. It’s why I’m hoarding my hard-earned money to ensure I can get out of here.
But if I don’t look out for myself, who will?
“This isn’t over,” Hayley hisses at me. “Trust me, you’re going to pay.”
She walks to the back and slams her bedroom door shut.
Haven’t I already paid enough?
452 DAYS LEFT
Maybe this makes me a heartless person, but I always knew Brady and I would eventually break up.
It wasn’t as if I was deluding myself into thinking we’d ride off into the sunset and get married. There’s been this assumption between us that we’d end things before he left for Purdue in the fall. There was always a possibility it could end sooner, but I never thought it would end because of Hope.
“So what are you going to do?” Lila asks me after school as we’re hanging out at her locker. Truthfully, I’m simply stalling before I have to go meet up with Hope and endure yet more of her awkward behavior.
“I’ve tried to ask him if there’s anything wrong and he brushes me off,” I reply as I gently rub the part of my head that’s still sore from Hayley pulling my hair last night. I sigh. Maybe I should get the inevitable over with. I have too much going on to deal with boy drama. Plus, as scary as it is, I really need to be better standing on my own. It’s not fair to Brady that I use him as a security blanket.
Yet there’s another part of me that wants to cling to him, since he represents part of my old life, and I want to grasp on to those measly scraps that remain.
Lila shakes her head. “I can’t believe he’d cheat on you with her.”
“Hope’s used to getting what she wants,” I state before a giant yawn takes over me. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well last night. I never do when Evan’s over.
“I don’t think you should give up on him yet.” Lila links her arm with mine as we walk down the hallway.
“That or you simply want more double dates,” I tease her. “Does Conor seem different since Cleveland?”
“Conor’s always different, which is why I like him.”
I stop when I see Hope at her locker. She looks up from her bag and sees me. She gives a little wave with a forced smile.
“Ew,” Lila says under her breath. “Yeah, something’s up with her. She looks guilty as hell.”
“Off to serve my sentence.” I give Lila a hug good-bye, more grateful than ever to have her. It’s difficult to deal with Hope on a good day, but I’m too confused and drained today. Since I need the money, I try to put a spring in my step as I walk over to her.
“Hey, Parker!” Hope says with an unusual nervous quiver in her voice. “How was your day?”
“Good,” I reply cautiously. She’s never asked me about my day before. “How was yours?”
“Can’t complain.”
That’s refreshing. She’s usually put out by something or someone, often her mom and most often me.
I cover my mouth as another yawn takes over. “Sorry.” I don’t know why I constantly feel the need to apologize to people when I yawn. I am sorry, but because this is what I’ve been reduced to, practically sleepwalking through life.
“It’s totally fine.” Hope’s eyes get wide as if she’s suddenly realized something. “You know what I could use? Some coffee! Yes! Let’s go grab coffee on our way to my house. It will totally be my treat, of course! How does that sound?”
It sounds great, but I can’t help but think it’s some sort of trap. Perhaps Hope is under the impression she can buy my forgiveness with a cup of coffee. I’ve had so much betrayal in my life, it would take a lot more than some hot water and coffee beans to even begin to make a dent.
“Only if you want,” I say.
“I do!”
One thing I’ve learned is that I should take the good with the bad. So I should be grateful Hope’s in a good mood and being generous. However, there’s a little voice in my head telling me the only explanation for her unusual behavior is guilt for whatever happened in Cleveland.
The entire ride to get coffee, Hope peppers me with questions about work and school. I politely answer, the entire time feeling my guard strengthen. She’s setting me up. For what I don’t know, but nothing is ever truly free, especially when Hope’s involved.
We walk into the coffee shop and I scan the menu.
“What would you like? Anything! Remember it’s on me!”
“I’ll take a small black coffee, thanks.” While I appreciate the gesture in theory, I don’t want her to think buying me one coffee is going to buy my forgiveness for cheating with my boyfriend. Because in reality, what else could have happened in Cleveland between her and Brady?
“What?” Hope shakes her head. “That’s so boring! What about the mocha frappé? It’s so good!”
It is good, really good, but expensive. I know Hope has the money, but I don’t want to take advantage even though I can’t help but feel I’m the one who’s actually being taken advantage of. I decide to compromise. “Okay, I’ll have a small.”
“Do you want a brownie? Or a cookie? Again, my treat!”
Yes, I’m aware this is all Hope’s treat. She takes a twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet as if it’s nothing. Anytime I hold a twenty, I think of all it can buy me. I’d never waste it on coffee and treats. I’m not my sister.
“I’m okay, thanks,” I reply as I take a step back while she orders for us. I always feel uncomfortable whenever anybody else picks up the bill. Which is saying a lot since I’m rarely in a situation when I can afford to pay.
“I love this place,” Hope says as we wait for our order. “Do you come here a lot?”
“Not really. My sister does.” I think about all the coffee cups I threw at her last night.
“That’s cool.”
We wait in more uncomfortable silence as we pretend to be really interested in whatever the people around us are ordering or picking up.
“Here’s your food!” One of the people behind the counter hands Hope a brown paper bag.
“I couldn’t resist getting some little treats—it all looked so good.” She opens up the bag and hands me a giant brownie. “Here, it’s yours!”
“Thanks,” I say to her again, more out of habit and politeness than actual gratitude. I’d usually devour something so decadent, but I’ve lost my appetite. Hope’s trying to get on my good side before she knocks me down.
She looks down at my battered shoes. “Hey! What size shoe are you?”
Now she wants to know my shoe size? “Seven and a half.”
“Really? I’m an eight and I have this awesome pair of boots that are too tight on me—maybe they’d be perfect for you? I’ve already worn them once so I can’t return them. When we get to my house, I’ll have you try them on.”
I don’t even know how to reply to her random offer. Her name is called and she’s handed our drinks. She gives me a large mocha frappé. “I figured I should get you the big size. Enjoy!”
She holds out her latte to toast. I oblige, but then catch that familiar look in her eye: pity.
The coffee. The treats. The shoes. It’s all making sense to me now.
I look down at my drink. Now I’m the one who can’t make eye contact. My mind races as I try to steady my breath and not show that I figured it out.
Something did happen in Cleveland.
Hope knows the truth.
It was never supposed to be this big secret.
In a town this small, I assumed everybody would find out eventually. When everything started happening, the last thing I worried about was what other people knew.
First, Dad didn’t come home from work at the bank. I didn’t really notice anything until the next morning, when it was only Mom and me at the kitchen table for breakfast. She was staring into her cup of tea while I made myself some toast. She kept checking her phone, even calling Dad a few times.
“Is everything okay?” I asked her. We were never ones for big heart-to-hearts, but it was clear
something was off. “Where’s Dad?”
“I don’t know,” she replied while placing another call.
“What? Is he hurt? Have you called the hospital?” Immediately my mind came up with worst-case scenarios. Why wasn’t Mom panicking? “Did you call the police?”
But she didn’t call the police, because they were soon at our door. The moment the red and blue lights reflected through the window, Mom started crying.
Dad’s dead was my first thought.
Mom was inconsolable as the police started asking her about where Dad was, where the money was, what she knew …
I had no idea what was going on. I’d never heard of embezzlement or money laundering. My naïveté didn’t stop the police from taking both of us to the police station for questioning. Mom had called our family lawyer that I hadn’t even known existed. The lawyer sat next to me while the police started asking me all these questions about Dad’s work and if I knew where he’d possibly be.
I knew nothing. I was clueless.
Slowly, it started coming together. He took money that didn’t belong to him. I suspected Mom knew, but she insisted on her innocence. The bank was keeping what happened quiet to not upset its customers, especially since their money was insured. So most people didn’t know what was happening to my family.
Two days after Dad left, I woke up to an empty house. I’d assumed Mom was simply out running an errand. She didn’t return for the rest of the day. She wasn’t answering her phone. I made myself breakfast, then lunch, and then dinner, assuming she’d eventually return.
By the third day, I didn’t know what to do or who to call. I was frightened and confused. Nothing that had happened in the last seventy-two hours made any sense. Mom had lied to the school, saying that I had the flu, but without her home, I did the only thing that was normal. I went to school. Lila’s parents picked me up. I told them my mom wasn’t feeling well.
My life was turning upside down, but as soon as I stepped inside school, everything was the same. Nothing had changed: the hallways, the classrooms, the cafeteria, my teachers and classmates—it was all still there. It was a relief to have the normalcy of classes and homework.