The Art of Being Indifferent (The Twisted Family Tree Series)

by Brooke Moss

  When she looked up at me, her sky colored eyes wide, I almost turned a backflip off the couch. Hell yes, this was a damn date.

  Hopping up, I reached for Posey’s hand. “Well, let’s go then.”

  She grinned, the sight lighting up Bob’s like a hundred watt bulb. “So you’re going to let me buy the rocky road?”

  “No.” I took the sheet music from her. “And you’re not getting this, either.”

  Amongst Posey’s protests, I paid for her gift, then we walked to the door. As I pushed it open, I sucked in a pull of air and placed my hand on the small of her back, and waited for her to jerk away. I counted. One, two, three, four…

  She looked over her shoulder at me. “Thank you so much, Drew.”

  Seven, eight, nine, ten…

  We stepped into the cold air, and she still didn’t move away from my hand. Victory was mine. “You’re welcome,” I said, sliding my arm up to Posey’s shoulders. “This has been the best afternoon I’ve had in… I don’t know how long.”

  “Andrew?”

  My insides froze, and I dropped my hand. There, on the sidewalk stood my mom, shopping bags in hand. Judging by the pinched scowl on her face, she disapproved of my company.

  “Mom,” I blurted, my voice cracking.

  Her eyes, cold and distant, flicked from me to Posey. After an uncomfortable pause, she clicked her tongue. “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, Andrew. Why aren’t you at practice?

  Chapter Twelve

  Her.

  Well, one thing was perfectly clear: Drew’s mom didn’t like me. She let me know by flaring her nostrils down at me and announcing that Drew was ten minutes late to practice. Then she’d turned on her shiny four-inch heels and stormed away from us like I smelled bad.

  In any other circumstances, I would have told Mrs. Baxter where to shove her Manolo Blahniks. In fact, the words were on the tip of my tongue. But since it was Drew’s mom—and I was crushing on him hard—I kept my mouth shut. He’d had his arm around me and I was floating on cloud nine for the first time in, well ever. That did a lot in helping me keep my insults at bay.

  Drew’s face went pale as he unlocked his car, and he explained why his parents hated Paula and John so much. It wasn’t for the reasons I’d originally assumed. I’d thought that Mayor and Mrs. Baxter turned their noses at to the Coulters because they were a mismatched, multi-racial family who rode around in a dented minivan and wore second-hand clothes. They crushed the idealistic small town thing Twisted Tree had going by dragging a troop of mentally and behaviorally messed up kids everywhere they went.

  But I was wrong. Totally wrong. Apparently Mrs. Baxter had very loose lips after a few glasses of wine, and told Drew the whole sordid tale a couple of years ago.

  Paula had dated Mayor Baxter in high school and almost married him. But as it turns out, Mayor Baxter started dating Drew’s mom, Blair, behind Paula’s back during his freshman year at the University of Washington and managed to keep it a secret from Paula until the summer before his junior year—when Blair made him choose. He chose Paula, who then dumped him for having humiliated her for over two years, after which he’d come crawling back to Blair, begging for forgiveness. She forgave him, and they married right after college graduation, but according to Drew, she’d been filled with paranoia and resentment towards my foster mother ever since.

  That the Coulters were hopelessly in love didn’t matter to Blair. In Mrs. Baxter’s mind she had played second fiddle to Paula. So she loathed all of the Coulters, including me.

  Drew updated me on their history as we’d booked it back to the school, but no amount of storytelling could erase the worry on his face as he drove. A line had appeared between his eyebrows, and the muscles in his jaw flexed as he grit his teeth. I waited for him to reach out and touch me like he had as we were leaving Bob’s, but he only gripped the steering wheel with clenched hands, and stared straight ahead.

  Guess our little moment was over.

  I was a complete moron for thinking someone like Drew Baxter liked me as more than just his teacher-assigned tutor, and for letting my feelings towards him change. I went into this knowing I was working with not only the best looking guy in the school, but also the cockiest and most over-confident one, too. Pure stupidity—peppered with a hefty dose of hormones—had let me think the rich Golden Boy on campus would look at me in any way but with total repulsion.

  And hey, what did I care? Because really, Drew wasn’t my type anyway. The last guy I’d hooked up with in Seattle had a tattoo on his neck and a rap sheet longer than I was tall. Not exactly the Drew Baxter type. And I needed to stick with my type. They were dangerous and sexy. They didn’t run hot and cold like a preppy, small town mayor’s son. In fact, the longer we drove on the curvy roads between Langley and Twisted Tree, the more I thought I needed to tell Drew just that…

  But I didn’t get the chance. When we pulled into the school parking lot, not only were Mr. Kingston and the coach waiting, but Mayor Baxter stood there with rain pelting his fancy suit. I’d been promptly excused, without as much as a glance from Drew, who seemed to be waiting for his dad to lose his mind, and instead of opening my mouth and saying something, anything, I’d hightailed it for the trail home.

  Yeah. I was a chicken shit.

  Later that night, as I trolled Facebook—and maybe waiting for a message from Drew to pop up, though I’d never admit it in court—my insides twisted into a square knot. Had I imagined the energy between us? When his hand touched my back, I’d felt a spark. I was sure of it. And he’d bought me a pile of sheet music, too. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t like me. At least, I didn’t think so. Hell, what did I know?

  I clicked refresh on my message page a few more times, and cussed under my breath when no message from Drew popped up. Worry and disappointment blurred my vision, so I covered my face and hunched forward at the desk. I did know one thing for sure. Drew was in trouble. Big trouble. Judging by the look on his dad’s face, he was in for a long night.

  My stomach curdled at the thought of what Mayor Baxter was probably doing to Drew. As if it weren’t bad enough that he’d skipped school and practice, but he’d done it to hang out with a Coulter. He was royally screwed.

  Wait. Back up. I wasn’t a Coulter.

  “You all right, Posey?” Jessa came up behind me and put her hand on my shoulder.

  “Uh huh,” I nodded, my forehead thumping on the desktop. “No big.”

  “There’s no excuse for Maddie.”

  She touched my hair, and I squeezed my eyes shut to keep from jerking away from her touch. This is what sisters do, I told myself. Don’t trip out. “She’s one of a kind,” I said, my voice muffled. “How can you stand her?”

  Jessa sighed. “I don’t know. I just tolerate her because it’s easier.”

  I peeked up at her. “So you just let her treat you like sh—” I looked over my shoulder at Paula, who hummed happily as she folded laundry on the couch. “Like crap, rather than speaking up?”

  “Well, I… I just…” Jessa looked down. “She’s very dramatic. Ignoring it always seemed better than fighting her. I worked so hard to make it onto the squad. Sometimes she scares people into doing what she wants, because they’re all afraid of becoming nobodies again.”

  My heart squeezed. As much as I hated it, I understood Jessa’s point. For a couple of hours this afternoon, I’d been the center of Drew’s attention, and part of me felt desperate enough to do anything to stay there. Fitting in was like a drug. Once you started, it sucked to stop. “I know,” I said quietly. Jessa kept fiddling with my hair, and it was sort of comforting. “Believe me, I do. But you’re stronger than you think you are. You stuck up for me today. And… I appreciate it.”

  “I’m only strong because of you.” She bounced a little. Jessa reminded me of a wiggly puppy, but instead of being annoyed by it, it had started to grow on me. “You’re blurring the social lines, Posey.”

  Snorting, I put my forehead
back on the desk. “Yeah. Check me out. Always a trendsetter.”

  Her voice got soft. So soft I could barely hear her. “Have you heard from him, yet?”

  A lump formed in my throat, jagged and bitter. “No.”

  “I see.” Jessa stopped messing with my hair, and knelt down beside the computer chair. “Don’t worry. I know you will. He’s crazy about you.”

  “Ha.” I made a choking sound that was supposed to be a laugh, and cleared my throat. “I don’t care if I hear from him or not.”

  “Sure.” She stood back up. “Why don’t you get off the computer and come make some hot chocolate with me and Lacey, then?”

  A chime sounded and my head popped up. “Drew?”

  Jessa snorted, and started backing away. “Right. You don’t care at all, do you?”

  I tried not to smile at her, but failed miserably. I wanted to know Drew was all right. I wanted to know that nothing between us had changed, even though the whole afternoon felt like a dream. I wanted to know…

  Ding.

  “Gah. Focus.” Shoving my hair out of my face, I clicked on my messages and squinted at the screen. Two messages from people at TTHS I’d never spoken to before—I guess almost kicking Maddie Mulcahey’s ass made me popular—and a message from…

  My blood ran cold. It was from Celeste. My mother.

  “What the hell?” I hissed. My hands shook as I moved the mouse and opened the message.

  Hey baby girl,

  Long time, no talk. LOL. ;)

  I’m outta jail, & trying to find you. Write me back soon, I’ve got so much to tell you. Ur gonna have a baby sister soon!

  I never stopped loving you, you know.

  Xoxo

  Kisses, Mom

  I blinked at the screen a few times, trying to clear the buzzing sound in my head. Elation, anger, relief, frustration. It all filled me like a bathtub on the verge of overflowing, and the living room suddenly felt hotter than a damn smelter. Shoving myself away from the desk, I sucked in a deep breath.

  Seven and a half years. I’d been taken away from her seven and a half years ago, and hadn’t heard from her since. She didn’t show up to one of the visits. She didn’t show up to any of the hearings. She didn’t return any emails, or cards, or pictures I sent to her through the endless stream of social workers who’d dealt with me. When Julian and Rory were adopted, she hadn’t fought for her sister to adopt me, too.

  Scratching at my neck, I looked at the backdoor. My skin felt tight as emotions prickled my surface, begging to be released.

  When I got the chicken pox and wound up in the hospital with a kidney infection, she didn’t care enough to reach out to me. When I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars at my fourth elementary school in two years, she didn’t care enough to reach out to me. When I lost my virginity in the parking lot of a Denny’s at fifteen, she didn’t care enough to reach out to me. When foster dad number four tried to grab my boob over the breakfast table, she didn’t care enough to reach out to me. When foster mom number five split my lip because I lost the cordless phone, she didn’t care enough to reach out to me. When I ran away from foster home number six and shared a sleeping bag at the Freemont Troll with a pregnant thirteen year old girl, she didn’t care enough to reach out to me.

  But now she did?

  I looked around at the Coulters’ living room, my vision splotched with black. Jessa and Lacey were stirring their cocoa, waiting for the latest episode of Dancing With The Stars to come on. John was bent over the coffee table with Micah, explaining how to multiply binomials. Tabitha and Cooper played with Legos at Paula’s feet, who hummed to herself while folding laundry.

  It was picturesque. Like a damned Norman Rockwell painting.

  They wanted me to be a part of it.

  And now my mother wanted me? Now?

  I stood up, knocking the computer chair backwards. It fell to the scarred wood floors with a colossal slam, and everybody turned to look at me.

  “Posey?” Paula stood up, her eyes wide. “You okay?”

  “No!” I blurted, charging for the door. “I gotta go.”

  “Wait.” She jumped up and chased me. “Stop. Wait. Where are you going? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened.” I didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. My vision swam, and I could barely see straight. And damn it all to hell, I couldn’t find my iPod. “I just need some air.”

  She put her hand on the door, blocking me from escaping. “You can get some air as soon as you tell me what’s wrong.”

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to beat feet to the bus station and catch the next Greyhound off this rock. “My mom,” I said, my voice wavering. “It’s my mom.”

  Paula’s mouth pulled into a line, and she looked at John. “Your biological mom?”

  “How did she contact you?” John asked. “We were under the assumption she was in jail.”

  “She’s out.” I dug in my pockets again. “Where’s my iPod? I need my iPod.”

  John put a hand on my shoulder, and I stiffened. “How did she contact you, Posey?”

  Cringing, I closed my eyes. I could feel the eyes of all their kids watching me. “Facebook.”

  Paula rubbed her forehead, her eyes pained. “I hate that site. There’s no privacy anymore.”

  “Posey, your mother’s rights were terminated some time ago,” John explained gently. “You’re a part of our family now. For her to contact you now is inappropriate. I—”

  I glared at him, my pulse jumping. “Inappropriate?”

  I didn’t disagree with John, but I didn’t agree with him, either. I hated my mom. She didn’t deserve me… or my brothers. God, she didn’t even deserve whatever kid she was carrying now. She walked away from us like we were nothing.

  But I also loved her. She was my mom. I still remembered what she smelled like, and how her fingers felt on my arm when she helped me out of the bathtub. No matter where I went, or whom I lived with, I wanted her. Even though she’d hurt me worse than anybody ever could.

  Paula shot John a warning glare. “What he meant was… your mother made unhealthy choices. She lost her rights as a parent, and now you’re living with our family. We want to adopt you.”

  My skin tightened and I backed towards the door. My fingernails scraped on the door behind me as I scrambled for the handle. “I need to go. Where is my iPod?”

  “Calm down, Posey. We’ll get it for you.” John looked over his shoulder. “Micah, will you please look for Posey’s iPod?”

  Micah obeyed, hopping up and looking under the couch cushions. Paula smiled kindly at me. “We don’t want to discourage you from communicating with your mother if you want to, Posey. We just don’t want it to upset you this badly.”

  “What do you care?” I barked, ducking my head to hide behind my hair. “I’m not a Coulter.”

  “But we would like you to be,” John said. “Very much.”

  I looked at them through the dark strands. “No, you don’t.”

  Paula’s eyes filled, and she squeezed my hands. “Yes, Posey. We do. But only if you want it, too.”

  I wanted it, but didn’t. I wanted Paula and John to love me the way they loved all their other kids, but I also wanted my real mom to love me. What the hell was wrong with me? I was flip flopping like a damned schizophrenic.

  My eyes went from Paula’s face to her husband’s, then back again. They looked at me with so much pity, their gazes pleading with me for approval. Love us. Join us. We’ll be even more picturesque if you do. We’ll wear matching sweaters and start a family band.

  “You don’t want me.” When I spoke, my voice shook. I was so close to crying, “Not really. Nobody does. My own damn mom didn’t want me. Why the hell would you want me?”

  “Oh, Posey…” Paula covered her mouth, and she started to cry. “We do, sweetie. So much. Come here.”

  When she reached out to hug me, I twisted away. “No. Stop. I… I don’t like it.”

  “Found
it!” Micah called from the corner of the room where Cooper sat.

  Thank goodness, I thought, wiping sweat off my brow.

  “Let us be your family.” Paula wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Please, Posey, we won’t let you down. We’re here for you.”

  Micah wriggled between his parents. His face was somber. “I, uh, Coop was sitting on it. I’m so sorry.”

  I took my iPod and my stomach dropped like lead. The screen was shattered. Split into pieces and spider webbed. “Oh shit, no…” I moaned. “No, no, no.”

  John ran a hand through his light brown hair. “Posey, I’m sorry. We’ll replace it. I promise.”

  I wasn’t stupid. The Coulters couldn’t afford to replace it. John used an iPhone so old it only held a charge for half an hour. Anger sizzled in my gut, singeing my insides and shoving my sadness to the side to make its way to the surface.

  “Leave me alone, would you!?” I yelled, making Paula jump. “You losers have no idea how much I just want you to get the hell out of my life and leave me alone! Do you hear me? Leave me the hell alone! All of you!”

  I yanked open the door and charged off into the darkness. The wind blew faster than ever, whipping me in the face with icy fingers as I sprinted to the beach. Mutiny Bay, behind the rocks where Drew and I hung out. I wanted peace. I wanted quiet. I wanted to close my eyes and be anywhere else than on the island.

  As I rounded the curve towards the beach, I stumbled, ramming my knee into the edge of a boulder and splitting the skin. Cradling my wound, I limped down to the sand and unleashed every cuss word I’d ever heard, and even made up a few more. I screamed until I was hoarse. I screamed until I couldn’t see straight. I screamed until…

  Until I heard Drew calling my name.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Him.

  I heard Posey before I saw her. She was on the beach, screaming cuss words into the night air like a lunatic. I didn’t go to the beach thinking I’d see her, but as soon as I heard her, my heart started thudding so hard inside of my chest, I thought I might pass out. I had to get to her. I needed her. And I didn’t care how pathetic it was.