by Brooke Moss
Jessa passed the computer desk carrying a towel and her pajamas, and noticed that I was on Facebook. Her face lit up. “I didn’t know you were on here! Why haven’t you found me yet? I want to friend you!”
I flinched. Sometimes Jessa’s enthusiasm was painful to witness. After a lifetime around pissed off, drugged out, and generally fed up people, hanging around with someone who spewed sunshine and rainbows all the time made me anxious. “Um… okay.”
“Here, let me help.” She leaned forward, and typed out her name at the speed of light. When Jessa’s profile popped up, she squealed with delight. “Come on, friend me, Posey. We’re sisters. We have to be Facebook friends. Duh.”
I was taken aback, and immediately hid behind a curtain of hair. I’d never had a sister before. My aunt, who decided to send me to a different foster home because she didn’t want a kid as old as I was at the time, adopted both my brothers. And I didn’t know whether my mom ever had any more kids. When I was little, I’d always wanted a sister, but as I grew older, I’d never considered my scattered foster sisters to be “real sisters.”
“I’m not your sister,” I blurted. As soon as the words came out, I felt bad. A part of me wanted to lap up the attention, to play into the whole sisters thing, and have a big, fat love fest. But another part of me felt like Paula and John were going to wise up at some point, and decide that adopting me was a huge lapse in judgment.
Jessa turned and looked at me. A few seconds passed, and my face started to feel warm underneath her gaze.
“What?” I asked.
“You will be soon,” Jessa told me softly. When I scrunched up my face, ready to argue, she added, “They picked you, you know. The rest of us were sent to them because our social workers needed a home to stick us in, but Mom and Dad found you. They knew they wanted you as soon as soon as they saw you. You should remember that.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but closed it instead. I’d never thought of it that way. I’d just assumed Paula and John were addicted to do-gooding, and were using me to win extra points with God, and earn a good seat on the heaven bus. Maybe I was wrong?
Flicking open a bottle she was carrying, Jessa jammed it underneath my nose. “Check out my new shampoo. It smells like strawberries. Isn’t it to die for?”
And the moment was gone.
I sniffed it and forced a smile. “Yum.”
She grinned, and her eyes twinkled. “You should smile more often. You’re pretty when you do.” And with that, she jumped back to her feet and trotted off to the bathroom.
I looked back at the computer screen, the reflection of my face slightly visible on Jessa’s Facebook page. I’d never been called pretty before. Except once by my mom, when I was around seven or eight.
She was sober. Or at least I thought she was. And she’d done my makeup. When I looked in the dingy mirror hanging above the bathroom sink, I’d gasped. My cheeks were rosy, and my lashes were long and curved. My little lips were smeared in red lipstick, just like my mom wore whenever she went out—which was almost every night. The best part was when my mom had hugged me from behind, pressing a kiss to my hair, and whispered in my ear.
You’re the prettiest girl, Posey. The prettiest one I know.
Man, I’d clung to that moment for years afterward. Even in my darkest moments when I felt as ugly and haggard as a discarded mattress in a dumpster. I’d always smiled to myself when I thought about my mother telling me I was pretty.
I typed my mother’s name into the search engine, but it came up empty. I’d tried to find my mother online at least a dozen other times over the years, but I always came up empty handed. For a while I thought it might be that I couldn’t remember the right name—she’d used more than a handful of aliases over the years—but then my social worker told me she was in jail. Apparently she was doing time for fraud and parole violations stemming from drug charges. But that was two years ago. Who knew where the hell she was now.
“Five more minutes, Posey,” Paula called from the kitchen.
“Okay.” Scanning my brain, I started typing in different variations on my mother’s actual name, Celeste Barnes. I was pretty sure she’d been going as Cissy Barthelson when she was arrested. May as well try that one.
Sure enough, a profile popped up, and all the air in my lungs was sucked out.
My mom looked older than her real age, which was thirty-three. Her skin was splotchy and stretched tight over her bones, and her arms and legs were all pointy edges and sharp angles. Her hair was fuzzy and thin, dyed white blonde on the top half and hot pink on the bottom. She was flipping off whoever had taken the picture, and her mouth was pulled back into a wide grin with her tongue hanging out.
But that wasn’t what made me feel like I was going to keel over in my chair and hit the wood floor like a dropped tree.
She was clearly pregnant.
As I scrolled through her page, I saw picture after picture of her belly. And it didn’t stop there. Ultrasound pictures; status updates about her doctor’s appointments; and pictures with some pierced up guy who was presumably her boyfriend, judging by the fact that his hands were on her ass in most of the shots. There was even a picture of a tattoo she’d gotten on her back of this new baby’s due date.
She was so happy. So excited to have this new baby… but she hadn’t tried to contact me since I was ten. She’d not even showed up for the hearing to terminate her parental rights, for God’s sake. But this baby was blowing up her page like it was the damned cure for cancer.
I felt sick to my stomach, and the room swam as I logged out of Facebook. The sound of Micah and Lacey laughing at a television show across the room cut through my head like a rusty steak knife. I needed my iPod. I needed to get the hell out of that house… stat.
“Posey?”
I jumped as soon as I heard John’s voice, and looked up to find he and Paula beaming down at me, holding hands.
“We were just wondering if you’d thought about things,” she said excitedly.
Her voice annoyed me. All of the sudden, both of their smiling faces were the ugliest sights I’d seen since someone plowed into a deer on the highway outside our house last month. I didn’t want them to smile down at me with those expectant looks on their faces, and I didn’t want Jessa to call me her sister. Why the hell would they want me to be their daughter or their sister, when my own mother didn’t even want me enough to post about me on her damned Facebook page?
“What things?” I asked, my voice thin and brittle.
John touched my shoulder gently, and I flinched. “About the adoption. Your file was transferred to the adoption social worker today.”
Paula bounced on the balls of her feet. “We’re getting closer, Posey. And it’s so exciting!”
“We were just wondering…” John looked at his wife and grinned. “If you’d considered whether or not you want to be adopted?”
“We just don’t feel right about moving forward without your input,” Paula added quickly.
My skin felt tight. Like I could split open and jump right out of it. Shoving back from the computer desk, the back of the chair hit John’s leg with a thump.
“Oof,” he grunted, bending to rub where I’d collided.
“No, I haven’t thought about it,” I said, my voice shrill. Micah muted the television and turned around on the couch to watch me. “And you two should drop it.” I stormed past them, making a beeline for the back door. “Because I’m not a Coulter, and I’m never going to be one.”
Chapter Nine
Him.
The wind picked up, blowing Posey’s hair back from her face. She was hunched over a book and didn’t notice when I looked at her, so I took advantage of the situation.
Posey wasn’t as horrifying as Mac and the other kids at school said she was. In fact, the damndest thing. she was sort of… decent. I had no plans to make out with her or anything. I wasn’t crazy. But Posey was just way different from what I’d always perceived her to be.
She was way funnier than I’d expected, and intelligent, too. Which, considering the fact that she said she barely pulled passing grades in all of her classes, was weird. She knew facts and figures by heart that I had to look up in the index of my textbooks.
And that’s not all. When Posey read, she pulled her hair to the back of her neck with her hands and held it there to keep it out of her way. When she did that, her whole face opened up. I don’t know why she hid behind that mess of hair all the time, because her face wasn’t bad to look at. Neither was her body, from what I could tell underneath all of those big ugly sweaters. Not that I was looking at it.
Also, when Posey thought about something, she pulled her lower lip in between her teeth and sucked on it. At first it bugged me and set my teeth on edge. I wanted to climb the walls just to get away from the sound. But now I kind of liked it. That’s how I knew Posey was really contemplating what to say next. Now I found myself waiting for the next time she did it.
Grunting, I went back to my reading, my book pages flapping in the wind. I needed to get a damn grip. Posey Briggs wasn’t some senior class hottie. Er, Coulter. And she wasn’t someone I needed to watch for any reason.
The soft sucking sound started again, and when I looked at her, she’d closed her book. “What?” I asked.
Her eyes met mine. “What?”
Smiling even though I didn’t want to, I tossed my book onto the rocks next to me, and lay down with my hands behind my head. “You always make that sound right before you have an epiphany.”
“Epiphany?” One of Posey’s eyebrows rose. “Big word for a jock.”
I tossed my notebook at her, missing badly. It bounced off the rocks we were sitting on, and slid down into the sand. “Come on. What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing.” Posey closed her book and looked at her iPod. “I guess we can quit for the day. You have to be back to the pool in fifteen minutes, and you’ve been working your butt off all week.”
I closed my eyes and tried soak up some sunshine before the rays inevitably went back behind a cloud. “Thanks, Teach.”
Posey shivered. “This was a good idea, but it’s friggin’ cold out. It’s turning into fall.”
“You’re cold?” I sat up and wriggled out of my own jacket. “Here, take this.”
She shook her head. “No. You’ll freeze.”
“Nah, I’m fine. Take it.” I tossed it to her and lay back down. Geez, it was cold outside. Why’d I do that? It was Posey, for hell’s sake.
She tugged it on, then sucked on her lip again.
Rolling to my side, I looked at her. “Spill it.”
She released her lower lip and gave me a sideways glance. “Spill what?”
“What’s on your mind? You’re doing that thing again.” I gestured to her lip. “With your mouth. You only do it when you’re about to ask me a hell of a question or you’ve got something to say.”
Posey smiled shyly, and my gut tightened. “Good to know you’re observing me like an animal in a zoo.” She fiddled with the cover of her book, opening and closing it in the wind. “I was just wondering why you’re flunking Lit. I mean, you’re smart enough. And…”
When she stopped talking, I leaned forward a bit. “And?”
Posey looked out at the water. “And… I’m surprised your dad didn’t get you out of it.”
I ground my molars together. “Yeah. My dad’s sort of infamous for that.”
She shrugged. “So I’ve heard.”
I sat up and looked out at the choppy grey waves. There was a sea lion on the rocks. He looked a hell of a lot warmer than I was. “The truth is, my dad doesn’t know I’m doing this.” When Posey looked at me, I went on. “Mr. Kingston isn’t a fan of my father, so he doesn’t exactly accept threats or bribes from the mayor. He wanted me to earn a better grade the old-fashioned way. I’m just hoping I can pull it off.”
“Of course you can pull it off.” She pulled the ends of the coat sleeves down over her fists. “You’re not dumb, Drew. As much as I was hoping you were. I think we’re going to get both of our grades up with no problem.”
“Thank God,” I said, tossing a rock towards the water. “’Cause I can’t do college without a scholarship.”
“Your dad won’t help with the cost?” She looked at me, and I felt her heavy gaze on the side of my face. “I mean, I guess I heard what he said that day, but…”
I faced her. “My father’s money is just that. His money. And I’m not going to use a penny of it, if I can help it. That bastard can keep his cash.”
She smiled, making my insides tighten. “Well, I’m on my own after graduation, too. If it makes you feel any better.”
“What, won’t the Coulters help you?” I asked.
I’d always been sort of jealous of the Coulter family, though I’d never let on in front of anybody else. The guys at school liked to joke about how the kids in that family were always wearing second hand clothes, and the mom drove around in a piece of junk car. But they had something my family didn’t. The love between those people was totally obvious. The mom and dad were always kissing and holding hands, and they were always hugging and playing with the kids, even though some of them were screwed up. When I was little I’d told my mom I wanted to be a Coulter, and she’d spanked me.
Posey looked down and let her hair fall across her face. My fingers wiggled at my sides because I wanted to push it out of the way so I could see her face again, but I ignored it. No way I would do that.
“Yeah,” she mumbled. “I guess. But they can’t afford much. And I wouldn’t let them, anyway.”
“Why not?” I blew into my hands to warm them up. “They seem like the kind of people who live for helping kids out and crap like that.”
“They do.” She took a deep breath, then released it slowly. “But I’m not one of them yet. Not officially. And… and I’m not sure I want to be.”
“Why not?” I pulled my knees up closer to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. Damn. I should have chosen something smarter than a tee shirt today. “I mean, I thought you… you know, needed a family.”
Posey’s white cheeks turned pink, and she turned her head away from me. “I don’t need a damn thing from anybody.”
“Hey, I didn’t…” I touched her shoulder softly, and she flinched. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just… I’m sorry.”
I always said the wrong thing around her. Any other girl in the school, and I was a freaking stud, but plop me down in the middle of a conversation with Posey, and I was suddenly an asshat.
“No. You don’t have to be sorry.” She tucked her hair behind her ears again, and my insides tightened once more. What the hell was up with that? “I guess I do need a family. I mean, the state of Washington seems to think so, even if I don’t.”
“Well, why did you come here?” I shivered as the wind picked up. “I mean, you were in Seattle, right? Didn’t they give you a choice?”
“You’re freezing, aren’t you?” Posey gave me a small smile. “Here. We can share.” She unzipped my jacket, and stretched it out so that it covered both of our laps. Once it was on, she sighed. “Yeah. They gave me a choice. My social worker set up this, like, meet-and-greet between me and the Coulters, and then they interviewed me afterward, to see what I thought.”
I stopped shivering under the cover of my hoodie. “And you decided to get adopted?”
“I decided to come live with Paula and John, yes.” Posey’s shoulders rose and fell. “Beats my last foster home. That place was horrible.” She caught me looking at her, and chuckled self-consciously, her eyes flicking downward. “But I haven’t decided if I want to be adopted, or if I just want to ride this out until I graduate and turn eighteen, then go back to the city.”
“Oh.” We sat in silence for a beat, then I bumped her with my shoulder. “Sounds like we both want out of here, huh?”
“Yeah.” She narrowed her eyes as the sun peeked through the clouds again. “I mean, d
on’t get me wrong. I like the Coulters. But… it’s weird to imagine myself being part of a family. I’ve never really done that, you know?”
“You mean you’ve never had a family?” I said, looking at the side of her face. The pink was almost gone from her cheeks, and they were back to that super white color. I always marveled at how pale Posey’s skin was compared to her dark, dark hair, like that cartoon princess my little cousin was so nuts about. “That just seems weird. I mean, I know my parents and I aren’t the most family-ish family around, but…” I made quotation marks with my fingers, and she laughed wryly. “I guess I’ve got one, at least.”
“Lucky you,” Posey replied, her voice flat.
“What was it like?” I asked, feeling warmth come from her arm next to mine. I ignored how good it felt, and shifted away from her a bit.
“What?”
“Not having a family.”
Posey sucked her lower lip in and chewed it for a second or two before answering, and I pretended to be distracted by the sea lion wriggling his way back into the choppy water. “My mom had me when she was younger than I am now,” she finally said. “And by the time she had my two brothers, she was a full-blown addict. We were always bouncing from home to home. From my grandma’s to my aunt’s, then to all of my mom’s friends. She started leaving me alone when I was like six or seven. We were never in one place for long, and sometimes my mom forgot us for weeks before she came back.”
“Holy hell,” I muttered. I couldn’t imagine my parents not in my life. And believe me, I’d tried. But being left alone when I was that small? No way. My mom insisted on a babysitter for me until I was thirteen, and then she’d only stopped hiring one because I asked the last one to teach me how to French kiss.
“Yeah.” Posey rested her chin on her knees. “Then when we went into the system, my brothers got adopted, and I got kicked out. I wound up in so many different homes I just stopped trying to fit in. I didn’t care whether I had a place in a family or not. I still don’t care.”
