by Kelly Oram
Jennifer’s smile turned sympathetic. “You must be so tired, you poor thing.”
I swallowed back annoyance and forced a smile. I hated people’s pity as much as I hated their stares, if not more. Before I had to figure out something to say, my two new stepsisters came bursting through the front door.
“Girls, you’re late.” Jennifer sounded irritated, but she’d plastered that big, phony smile back on her face. “Look who’s home!”
The two sisters slammed into each other as they came to an abrupt halt. They were twins. Not identical, I didn’t think, but they looked so similar that if not for the haircuts, I bet I’d still mix them up. I knew from pictures Dad had showed me that Juliette was the one with long blonde locks that fell in silky waves halfway down her back, while Anastasia had a sleek, angled bob that swept across her face and came to a sharp stop at her chin. It was so perfectly coiffed that she looked as if she’d stepped straight out of a hairstyle magazine.
Both girls were as gorgeous as their mother—same blonde hair, blue eyes, and perfect figures. And they were both so tall! I’m a modest five foot six, and they both towered over me. Of course, they were both wearing heels that gave them at least four extra inches, but I bet they were still both pushing five-ten without the shoes. They were over a year younger than me, but could easily pass for twenty-one.
Not bothering with any kind of hello, Anastasia lifted a hand to her chest. “Oh man, I’m so glad your face isn’t messed up.”
Juliette nodded, eyes wide. “Totally. We looked up pictures online of burn victims, and, like, all of them had these hideous scars on their faces. It was so gross.”
My dad and Jennifer let out matching nervous laughs and went to stand by the twins. “Girls,” Jennifer admonished mildly, “it’s not polite to talk about people’s deformities.”
I flinched at the term. Was that what she thought of me? That I was deformed? My face may have been lucky, but my shoulder down the right half of my body and everything from my waist down was covered with thick, raised pink scars that popped in contrast to my naturally-tanned skin.
My dad pulled both girls close to his sides, tucking one into each arm. In their heels they stood at almost the same height as his six feet one inches. I remembered him being a decent-looking man, but he was really quite handsome standing next to his picture-perfect family. He still had a full head of thick brown hair, and, of course, my bright blue eyes. “Honey, these are my daughters, Anastasia and Juliette. Girls, this is your new stepsister, Ellamara.”
He grinned proudly, flashing his perfect lawyer smile as he squeezed both girls. The creases around his eyes hurt my heart. Smile lines. He’d obviously spent his life laughing a lot. I also noticed the fact that he’d called the twins his daughters. Not stepdaughters.
Ignoring my desire to curl up into a ball and cry, I lifted a hand out in greeting. “It’s just Ella. Ella Rodriguez.”
Neither girl took my hand. “Rodriguez?” Juliette scoffed. “Shouldn’t it be Coleman?”
Letting my hand fall back to my side, I shrugged. “I changed it to my mother’s maiden name when I was twelve.”
“Why?”
“Because I am a Rodriguez.”
Both my stepsisters looked as though I’d somehow offended them. I had to clench my jaw to keep from spouting obscenities at them in Spanish. My glare slid to my father. “Where’s my bag? I need to take my medicine, and then I need to rest. My legs feel swollen.”
. . . . .
Jennifer argued with her girls in heated whispers as my dad led me across the main floor of the house to my room. I didn’t care that they were fighting about me. I was just glad to have the introductions over. Hopefully now I could avoid them as much as possible.
I sat down on my hospital-style bed that would elevate at both the head and feet, and swallowed a couple of pills before I looked around my new room. The walls were a soft yellow—no doubt intentionally so, because some doctor had told my father that yellow was a soothing, cheerful color. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad, but the furniture was this awful frilly white set that made me feel like I was six years old again. It was hideous.
“Do you like it?” Jennifer asked hopefully. She’d come into the room and taken her place at my dad’s side. He wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. It took some serious effort not to cringe at them.
Again, I chose my words carefully. “I’ve never had stuff this nice before.”
Dad picked up some kind of touch-screen remote. “You’ve got to see the best part.” He grinned as he began pushing buttons. “I can show you how to use this later. It controls the TV, stereo, lights, fan, and windows.”
“The windows?” My windows were controlled by remote?
Dad puffed his chest out and with one last tap on the screen, the floor-to-ceiling sheer white curtains along the far wall slid open, revealing an entire wall of windows with a sliding door in the middle. Then, with another touch of a button, the sunshades on each window rose up, letting a flood of light engulf the room.
Dad opened the door and stepped out into the sunset onto a wooden balcony that overlooked the whole city of Los Angeles as far as the eye could see. Beyond the balcony, the ground dropped off out of sight. Apparently, the house was on the side of a cliff.
“You have the best view in the house. You’ll have to come out here and look at all the lights after dark. It’s really something to see.”
Given California’s reputation for earthquakes, I found the prospect of standing on that balcony a bit disturbing.
Dad came back in and once the sunshades and curtains were all back in place, he turned to me with a hopeful expression. He caught me eyeing the laptop on the desk with trepidation. It was silver and looked as thin as a pancake. I’d always wanted one of those, but somehow it didn’t seem so appealing anymore.
Dad walked over and flipped the laptop open. “I hope you don’t mind the change. The computer you had in your apartment was so ancient. I thought you’d like this better. I had someone back up the hard drive before I got rid of it. I also got you a new phone since yours burned.” He picked up what looked like an iPhone in a hot pink case and handed it to me. “We added you to the family plan—unlimited everything, so don’t worry about calling your friends in Massachusetts. It’s not a problem at all.”
I cringed. I hadn’t contacted any of my friends since the accident. By the time I was capable of calling people, so much time had passed that I figured everyone had already moved on. I was going home with my dad and wouldn’t be going back, so I never saw the point of trying to keep in touch. Now that I was thousands of miles away, I really didn’t see the point.
My dad must have realized this too because he forced a brittle smile and rubbed the back of his neck as if he was suddenly extremely uncomfortable.
“Thanks,” I said. “So, um, where are all my things?”
Dad’s face relaxed, as if I’d just asked an easy question on a much safer topic. “Everything from your bedroom, except for the furniture, obviously, is packed in boxes in your closet.”
In my closet? “How big is the closet?”
Jennifer found this funny. “Not as big as mine, but I doubt you have the shoe problem that I do.”
I didn’t want to tell her that my mother and I both had a shoe problem. We had the same size feet and must have had a truckload of shoes between us. Not that I’d be wearing any of them ever again. No open-toe sandals or heels of any kind for me now—only special shoes that therapeutically support my burned feet and scream “grandma.” They’d fixed my hand, giving me enough movement back that I was able to write again—sort of. I was still working on making my handwriting legible, but they couldn’t entirely save my toes.
“We left everything in boxes because we thought you’d want to unpack and arrange things yourself,” Dad said. “But if you’d like help, we’ll be happy to do whatever you need.”
“No. I can manage. What about Mom’s stuff, and the rest of
the apartment?”
“I packed everything that looked significant—pictures and things, and some of your mom’s belongings that I thought you might want. There wasn’t much, just a couple of boxes worth. They’re with your things. Everything else I got rid of.”
“What about the books?” My heart started pounding in my chest. My bookshelves were not in this room, and I seriously doubted they were in my closet. “What did you do with all of my books?”
“All those books in the living room? I donated them.”
“You what?”
My dad flinched when I yelled and got that panicked expression back in his eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t realize—”
“You gave away all of my books?”
Maybe it was a stupid thing to lose it over after all the emotional stress I’d been through that day, but I simply couldn’t handle the thought of my books being gone. I’d been collecting them for years.
Ever since I’d learned to read, it’d been my favorite thing to do. Mama had been giving me books for my birthday and Christmas—and sometimes simply because she felt like it—for so long it’d become a tradition.
I’d gone to book signings and conventions all over the northeast and had dozens of books signed by all of my favorite authors. Every time I’d go to Mama with that look in my eye she’d laugh and say, “Where to this time?” At each signing, I had someone take a picture of Mama and me with the author and taped the picture to the inside cover of the book it went with.
Now, the books, the pictures, and the memories…they were all gone. Just like Mama was gone. I’d never get them back, and I could never replace what I’d lost. It was like losing her all over again.
My heart broke into a million tiny pieces, shattered beyond repair. I burst into uncontrollable sobs, rolled over on my bed, and curled up into a tight ball, wishing I could somehow block out the pain.
“I’m sorry, Ellamara. I had no idea. You weren’t awake to ask. I can get you new books, though. We’ll go this week and you can get whatever you’d like.”
The thought of him trying to replace that collection revolted me to my core. “You don’t understand!” I screamed. “Please, just go away.”
I never heard the door click shut, but no one bothered me after that until the next morning. I cried for hours until I passed out from exhaustion.
The one thing I will say for California is that everyone here is so good-looking. On the one side, it sucks because it will only make my scars stand out more when everyone around me looks so perfect all the time. On the other hand, though, I enjoy spending time with cute guys just as much as the next girl, and my entire new rehabilitation team is gorgeous. This is nice because it makes all the time I have to spend with each of them so much more pleasant.
My dietician and my nurse are both hot guys in their thirties. My dietician is also a part-time personal trainer. I’ve never been much of an exerciser, but the guy makes me want to join a gym. My physical therapist is only twenty-eight and is downright mouthwatering. He seriously looks like he belongs on TV and not in my living room, forcing me to exercise until I feel like crying. Physical therapy these past two weeks has been something I almost look forward to. Almost.
I gasped at an unexpected surge of pain and held my breath so that I wouldn’t cry out.
“Come on, Ella, just one more. I know you can do it. All the way to your shoes this time.”
I wanted to cry, but I did one more toe touch because Daniel smiled at me with so much confidence that I couldn’t let him down. And I swear he batted his eyelashes. I pushed my fingers toward the floor, stretching my new skin in some of the tightest places. I knew physical therapy was supposed to be hard—it takes the phrase “no pain, no gain” literally—but I just couldn’t make my fingers reach my shoes. My whole body was burning. Tears pricked my eyes and I stood back up. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I feel like my body is going to rip open any second.”
Daniel frowned—not in frustration or disappointment, but out of concern for me. The action was swoonworthy. “You reached your shoes once on Monday. Are you doing your exercises every day like we talked about?”
“Yes, but I think my skin hates the California air. It’s been irritating me all week.”
“Let me see,” Daniel demanded. I pulled up my shirt a little so he could inspect my back, and lifted my pant legs for him to get a good look behind my knees. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? I shouldn’t have been pushing you so hard. You’re not scratching, right?”
“I’m trying not to.”
“And sun exposure? No sunbathing on the back patio? No trips to the beach?”
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Parading around in public in a swimsuit is on the top of my to-do list. I haven’t even left the house once since I got here. I’m practically a vampire now.”
Daniel stopped inspecting my skin and frowned again. This time I was in trouble. “First of all, the beach is amazing and you’d love it. Next summer when your skin is stronger, I’ll take you there myself.” Delicious Daniel, in nothing but a pair of swim shorts? That would almost be worth the stares. “And second, when is your nurse coming?”
“Not until Monday.”
“That’s not soon enough. You’re way too dry. Your skin’s still adjusting to the climate change. Cali’s a lot drier than the East Coast.”
“My hair would agree with you.”
Daniel laughed and began rummaging through his backpack, seemingly on a mission. “Aha! I do have some with me.” He pulled out a bottle of mineral oil and grinned. “Go change and I’ll give you a rub down. Your mom has a massage table, right? I thought she said that last time I was here.”
I didn’t realize I’d frozen until the playful smile on Daniel’s face fell.
“She’s not my mom,” I said, though that wasn’t what had my stomach suddenly tied in knots. “And yes, she has one, but you don’t have to do that. I’m sure I’ll be fine until Monday.”
He’d seen my scars already, but an arm or a leg here and there was different than witnessing the whole picture at once.
Daniel looked me straight in the eye, as if he knew exactly what my hesitation was. “Ella.” His voice was gentle but stern. “You’ll be cracked and bleeding by Monday. We can’t risk tearing your grafts. You don’t want another surgery, do you?”
“No.” My voice shook as I wrestled with my emotions.
“If you’re that uncomfortable with me, I can call Cody or you can have one of your parents do it, but it has to get done today.”
As if I’d have my dad or Jennifer do it.
I hated when my nurse had to see me just as much as I’d hate for Daniel to see, so there was no sense in asking him to call Cody. I took a deep breath and nodded. “Sorry. You’re right. It’s fine. I’ll go change.”
“Good girl.” Daniel smiled at me so sincerely full of pride that it tugged at my insides. “You’re one of my bravest patients, you know that?”
I managed to laugh. “I bet you say that to all your patients.”
Daniel grinned. “I do, but I really mean it with you.”
“I bet you say that to all of them, too.” With a roll of my eyes, I headed for my bedroom to put on a dreaded bikini.
When I finally built up the courage to walk out of my bedroom, Daniel had already set up the massage table in the living room. I held my breath, but when he looked up, he smiled as if nothing were different. There wasn’t a second’s hesitation. Not even a flinch. He simply patted the table.
That’s why I loved doctors. The staff in the burn center in Boston was all exactly the same as Daniel. To them, I was just another person. During my stay there, I’d even fooled myself into thinking life wouldn’t be so bad.
On my trip from Boston to LA, I’d had on shoes, pants, and a long-sleeve shirt. The only scars that had been visible were on my right hand, and of course I walked with a limp. People stared as if I were an alien with three heads. They whispered and pointed and flinched. I couldn
’t imagine what it would be like to leave the house in a tank top and shorts.
Building up a little courage, I headed toward him, but when I came into the room Jennifer saw me. She’d been carrying a couple of glasses full of lemonade and when she caught sight of me with all my scars exposed, she gasped and her eyes glossed over with tears. She had to set the glasses down and sit. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Rich said it was bad, but I had no idea…I’m so sorry, Ella.” She looked up at me and flinched again. “Excuse me,” she said, and then all but ran upstairs to her room.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Daniel gave me a minute to compose myself and then gently took my hand. “Do you need help up?”
Normally I would have tried to do it myself, but this time I let him lift me onto the table. I lay down on my stomach first because I wasn’t ready to look at him. I couldn’t after I’d just made my stepmother run from the room.
“I don’t know why my dad paid for in-home care,” I grumbled as Daniel began to soak my sensitive skin in mineral oil. “The burn center’s not that far away. I would have much rather gone there to do all this stuff.”
Daniel was quiet for a moment and then he said, “I wish I could tell you that it’s going to get better. It’s never going to be easy, Ella. People are always going to react—some worse than others.”
“At least the stepwitches aren’t home. Jennifer may be tactless, but at least she tries to be nice. Witch One and Witch Two make the devil sound tame.”
Daniel sighed. “Look at the bright side. You’ll always be able to tell who your real friends are. Someday when you decide to settle down and get married, you’re only going to get the absolute best cream of the crop for a husband.”
I snorted. As if there were any chance that someone would date me now, much less choose to be stuck with me for the rest of his life.
“Don’t you dare laugh at the idea that someone would love you, Ella. Flip,” he demanded. When I rolled onto my back, he tried to make a mad face at me. He wasn’t very good at it. “You are smart, witty, and strong. And you’re beautiful.”
