by Joy Fielding
That wasn’t entirely her fault. Or mine. I don’t think Mrs. Crosbie was reacting that way because she found me physically repulsive per se, although she might have. We’ve all witnessed the casual, almost automatic way the more attractive shrink from those they consider less fortunate. No, I think her negative attitude toward me had more to do with my being Kerri Franklin’s daughter, that my mother was responsible for the breakup of her marriage, and that every time she looked at me, she was reminded of that, as well as of her own failure as a wife. It was she who was responsible, however inadvertently, for the worst humiliation I suffered in recent years. “Dee,” she called me one day in class, stripping me of even my name. And of course, Dee begat Deli, and worse, Big D, with that gleefully obscene song plastered all over the Internet.
But why target her daughter? I’m repeatedly asked. Hadn’t she stuck up for me on more than one occasion and tried to be supportive, even at the cost of her own burgeoning popularity? I’ve wrestled with that one. Did I choose Megan because of her natural heartstopper qualities—her fresh-faced good looks, her perky breasts and tiny waist, her easy grace, her effortless command of center stage? Or did I select her because she was the daughter (the granddaughter, the niece) my mother (and grandmother, and aunt) had always secretly coveted? They wouldn’t be embarrassed to introduce her to their friends or to pass her picture around. She was perfect, after all. Everything I wasn’t. And if Ian Crosbie had married my mother—and at the time, this seemed highly likely—not only would my mother have a new husband, I’d have a new stepsister. We’d be family. The comparisons would be endless, my flaws on constant display, my every shortcoming exaggerated and remarked upon. Kerri would grow increasingly distant as she basked in the glow of her more socially acceptable new daughter. Wasn’t her whole life about replacing the old with the new? I’d lose whatever remained of the mother I’d loved—and disappointed—my entire life. And the thought of playing second fiddle to that talentless twit for the rest of my days was just too much to bear.
One thing I admit I underestimated was Kerri’s reaction to her mother’s death. I’d often fantasized about posting the news of Rose’s demise on the Internet, in a combined birth/death notice: Kerri and Delilah Franklin are thrilled to announce the death of their mother and grandmother. But such was not to be. Even when Kerri thought her mother had died of a mere heart attack, she was surprisingly distraught. Maybe it had something to do with her now being officially an orphan, and the unstated acknowledgment that not even a thousand plastic surgeries could keep the so-called grim reaper at bay forever. Or maybe she’d actually loved that miserable old bat. Whatever it was, she took Rose’s death hard. And when she found out my part in what had happened, and then the truth about my aunt’s “accidental” drunken fall—because, of course, Megan couldn’t wait to tell everyone—well, she was almost apoplectic.
Apoplectic—don’t you just love that word? It sounds just like what it means. I think there’s a literary term for that, but I don’t know what it is. I guess I could write to Mrs. Crosbie and ask, but somehow, I don’t think she’d be too glad to hear from me, and I doubt she’d respond. But who knows? She might surprise me. God knows she’s done so in the past. Anyway, apoplectic means a sudden, marked loss of bodily functions due to a rupture of blood vessels. I looked it up.
I was almost apoplectic myself, by the way, when I heard Greg’s footsteps moving around upstairs that night almost ten months ago. And then the arrival of Torrance’s own Dynamic Duo, the sheriff and Mrs. Crosbie. Talk about surprises! It was just too much. I panicked. That’s why I put the gun to my head and pulled the trigger. I didn’t know what else to do.
Actually I’m glad Greg survived, even though it was touch and go at first. He was listed in critical condition for more than a week. He was in the hospital for a month after that, and then he convalesced at home until he was strong enough to stand up to his father and tell him he’d been accepted, with a full scholarship no less, into some big-shot art college in Chicago. Mrs. Crosbie helped him fill out his application and was apparently instrumental in his getting accepted. What did I tell you? That woman is just full of surprises.
Greg left for Chicago in January. Happy New Year indeed.
Not that I begrudge him his success. To be honest, I’ve always had a soft spot for Greg, maybe even a bit of a crush, and I was sorry he was the one who’d come bursting through the door that night. I’d hoped it would be Joey. But it wasn’t, and unfortunately, I had no choice but to shoot him. (Not that I didn’t enjoy shooting him—it made me wonder why I hadn’t gone after more of my male tormentors.)
My mother filled me in on the details: apparently he’d run into the sheriff and Mrs. Crosbie earlier that evening, and the three of them had frantically been searching for Megan for the better part of an hour. I was right, incidentally. He had seen my car off the side of the road and decided to investigate. The Dynamic Duo then saw his car, and suddenly, what do you know? Why, lookee here, we have a full house.
You’d have thought an alligator could have sunk his teeth into at least one of them. I mean, it is called Alligator Alley, even on maps of Florida.
Poor Kerri. When she found out what I’d done, she was beside herself. Another good expression, I think, because it perfectly describes the way you sometimes feel when you’re upset. I love the image of someone actually standing next to their own body. I think it’s neat. Like looking in the mirror, except this time it’s your reflection that’s real, not you.
At first, my mother didn’t want to see me or talk to me or have anything to do with me. But after a few weeks she had a change of heart. Maybe because Rose’s death had made her a rich woman, or maybe because I was still her flesh and blood after all, no matter what I’d done, or maybe because Ian had dumped her within days of my arrest, and she didn’t really have anybody else to turn to. Kerri’s never been very good at being alone.
I feel bad about Ian dumping her. I hadn’t intended for that to happen. Not that I’m surprised. Any man who leaves one woman for another one isn’t to be trusted, and chances are he’d have left my mother sooner or later anyway. I’m not even sure Kerri was all that unhappy, despite claims of being brokenhearted. I think she’s more upset that her sister Ruthie, who’s been living in California for the past decade, has suddenly reemerged to assert her claim to half of Rose’s estate. I think a little part of her even wishes I were home, so I could take care of things, the way I did with her other sister, Lorraine.
Anyway, Kerri visits twice a week, which is a bit hard on her, because Maple Downs is in Fort Lauderdale. She combines seeing me with shopping excursions—I can actually fit into that pretty blue sweater she bought me last year, hooray!—and visits to her cosmetic surgeon. When I saw her last week, she said she probably wouldn’t be able to see me for a few weeks, which I assume means more plastic surgery. She’s been complaining about her nose a lot lately, and she’s still not satisfied with her lips. I’ve given up trying to change her mind. People do what they have to do.
I asked her if the good folks of Torrance were giving her a hard time, and she said no, most of them had been amazingly kind, probably because they considered her a victim as well. After all, I murdered half her family. And then her boyfriend left her, relocating to Palm Beach within weeks of Sandy’s filing for divorce. Word is he’s since gone into practice with a former classmate from medical school, and that he already has a new girlfriend. As for Sandy, she packed up Megan and Tim and returned to Rochester as soon as she knew Greg was out of the woods.
I sometimes wonder if Greg and Megan will keep in touch, if there will be the same happy ending for them that there was for Petruchio and Kate. Ironic how they almost ended up like Romeo and Juliet.
As for everybody else, my mother does her best to keep me abreast of all the latest news. Apparently Brian Hensen came home from college for Thanksgiving—along with his new boyfriend, a fellow psychology major at the University of Miami—and announced to all a
nd sundry he was gay. So, it turns out Joey was right about him after all. But then, when you call everyone a faggot, you’re bound to hit pay dirt occasionally.
Surprisingly for a conservative town like Torrance, everyone’s been supportive of Brian, including his mother and her new boyfriend, a lawyer named Bob, whom she met through an Internet dating service last year. More irony—he wasn’t even her date. He was Mrs. Crosbie’s!
Kerri’s been talking about possibly signing up with the same service as soon as she’s feeling “more herself,” as she puts it. I doubt she has any idea who “herself” is anymore, although sometimes I catch a glimpse of her in the frightened irises of her eyes. It’s almost as if she’s the prisoner, and not me. Her body has become a jail. Maybe one day she’ll find a way out, though I doubt it. Society’s expectations will never grant her parole.
As for Joey, after flunking out of school again, he got some girl in Fort Myers pregnant and they’re getting married this summer. Don’t think I’ll be invited. Joey’s already in Fort Myers, working for his girlfriend’s father. Apparently the family owns a couple of resort hotels. I can already picture Joey hitting on the chambermaids and beating up the waiters.
Victor Drummond got into the Yale School of Drama, where presumably he fits right in. Next thing we know, he’ll be starring in some Broadway play, or maybe in his very own Hollywood sitcom. He’ll supply his own makeup. I’ll be able to say, I knew him when.
As for the other kids, not much has changed. Ginger and Tanya are as popular and obnoxious as ever. They’re both working over at the mall. Peter Arlington has a new girlfriend. Her name is Rebecca, and she looks a lot like Liana. As for Liana’s little sister, Meredith, she won some major beauty competition in Atlanta. Following in her mother’s footsteps.
Definitely not following in her mother’s footsteps, Amber Weber missed about a month of school because she was being treated for anorexia in some clinic in Tampa. Apparently, she put on about ten pounds during her stay there, but lost it all within months of her return home.
As for the staff of Torrance High, everything’s pretty much the same as it was a year ago. Avery Peterson continues to teach science and favor women a generation his junior; Gordon Lipsman continues to miss his mother and look after her cats. Kerri says she has no idea which musical he’s planning to put on this year, especially with most of his star players gone. And our esteemed principal, Lenny Fromm, remains at the helm, guiding the good surfers of Torrance High through the treacherous waters of adolescence.
Then there’s Cal Hamilton, who’s still in Torrance, still running Chester’s, still a “babe magnet,” as they say. Probably still carrying out his “inspections.” No shortage of women hoping to pass, willing to be the Property of … Lots of stupid people in this world. Including, it turned out, Cal Hamilton himself, the biggest patsy of all.
Setting him up was almost too easy. Not that it was part of my original plan, any more than killing Fiona was. But she was just so pathetic, and he was such a jerk, it was too tempting to pass up. It was simple to plant those trophies—although I hated to part with Liana’s necklace. It was real gold, unlike Candy’s cheap charm bracelet. And knocking on Mrs. Crosbie’s door after I’d already taken Fiona to the Kimble house, asking if anyone had seen her? That was inspired, if I do say so myself.
As was the ingenious way I coaxed each girl into my confidence, pretending to be a victim, as frightened and confused as they were, the way I got them to share the most intimate details of their lives, things they’d never have told me in other circumstances. And then the moment when they realized it was all an act, that they’d been duped, that far from being a hapless victim, I was the instigator, indeed the perpetrator of this giant fraud, the one responsible for their terrible plight, that their fate was in my hands, and that those hands were around the handle of a gun, a gun that was pointing at their head. I can’t begin to describe the pure joy I felt in those moments.
I also have Cal to thank for some of the most satisfying moments of the past year. I mean, who will ever forget that scene of his breaking into our house and tearing up the place? Of my mother ordering us upstairs? Of me locking my grandmother and myself in her room and pretending to stumble across her gun, a gun I’d discovered not long after she’d first moved in with us, while I was snooping through her things?
I bought the bullets myself at Wal-Mart.
Of course the best moment of all was when I stood there trembling, threatening to shoot Cal, and then collapsed in tears when I couldn’t pull the trigger. Wow! What a performance. I should win an Oscar for that one.
How did you prepare for the role? I can hear the paparazzi ask.
Oh, I tell them, modestly dismissing their adoration with a toss of my long, straight hair. I’ve been preparing for it all my life.
Turns out I was a better actress than anyone ever suspected. I fooled everyone: my mother, my grandmother, my aunt, my teachers, my neighbors, my friends. Oops. I forgot. I didn’t have any friends.
I even fooled the sheriff, although he proved to be far more capable at his job than I’d initially suspected. Yes, sir, I’m the first to admit I seriously underestimated that man. Not that I was the only one to do so. I think the whole town felt he was decidedly past his prime. Maybe even Sheriff Weber felt that way. At any rate, it was interesting to watch him grow in stature as his investigation proceeded, the natural way he assumed control, the dramatic way he came through in the end. My mother claims he’s a shoo-in for reelection, unlike our tiny, perfect mayor, who she says the town now regards as a tiny, perfect ass. No, if there’s room in this story for a hero, I think John Weber, with all his flaws, is it. And I like to think I can take at least part of the credit for that.
Which brings us back to me.
Things didn’t turn out quite the way I’d planned. I certainly didn’t anticipate getting caught. And I sure didn’t envision being locked away for the rest of my life. Not that that’s likely to happen. As it turns out, that’s not the way things work in our criminal justice system.
When I was sent to the Maple Downs Mental Health Center, it was my assumption, as well as, I’m sure, the assumption of most of the good people of Torrance, that I’d be here for the rest of my days. I’d received a life sentence after all. But as luck would have it, a life sentence doesn’t necessarily mean they put you away for life. My situation will be reviewed every couple of years. If I keep going to therapy, and taking my meds, and cooperating with the doctors, and behaving myself, well, I could be out a lot sooner than anyone realizes.
I’m only eighteen after all.
What’s that old song? I’ve got a lot of living to do?
Stay tuned.
ALSO BY JOY FIELDING
MAD RIVER ROAD
After spending a year in prison, Ralph has explicit plans for his first night of freedom: tonight, someone will be held accountable. He goes to murderous lengths to learn the address of his former wife—the woman he blames for his fate, and has sworn vengeance against. Determined to bring her to his idea of justice, Ralph’s next step is to travel from Florida to Ohio to find his ex-wife’s house on Mad River Road.
Also in Florida, Jamie Kellogg wakes from an agonizing nightmare of her mother’s funeral, and assesses her life: a twenty-nine-year-old woman in a dead-end job, with an ex-husband in Atlanta, a married lover in the hospital, and a virtual stranger in her bed. But this stranger is everything the previous men in her life weren’t: tender, attentive and adventurous. After convincing Jamie to quit her miserable job and ditch her judgmental, perfectionist sister, Ralph proposes a romantic getaway. While Jamie wonders if this thrilling man might finally be her Prince Charming, they plan a road trip to visit his son, who lives with his mother on a street called Mad River Road….
SEAL BOOKS / ISBN: 978-0-7704-2959
ALSO BY JOY FIELDING
PUPPET
Amanda Travis is a beautiful twenty-eight-year-old criminal attorney who wins just about every
case for her less than admirable clientele. She races through her glamorous life, her only concerns being herself, a good bottle of red, and her pristine Palm Beach condo. Her estranged mother, dead father, two ex-husbands, and countless one-night stands have since lagged far, far behind.
But when ex #1 won’t stop calling, Amanda finally gives in and learns that her mother has shot a man in the lobby of Toronto’s Four Seasons hotel. Despite her best arguments, Amanda knows she must return to her hometown to face her demons and uncover the truth about the dark, strange power her mother seems to hold over everyone. Her childhood nickname, Puppet, echoing in her ears, Amanda must finally confront the past and learn to stand on her own.
SEAL BOOKS / ISBN: 978-0-7704-2958-4
ALSO BY JOY FIELDING
LOST
Losing Julia has become a constant in Cindy Carver’s life. The first time Julia disappeared, she was five years old and vanished at the playground. That inspired motherly paranoia. The second was when, at age fourteen, Julia decided to move in with her father. That broke Cindy’s heart. But when twenty-one-year-old Julia disappears without a trace after a promising audition with one of Hollywood’s most powerful and influential directors, Cindy begins a frantic search. Secrets are revealed, lives are forever altered, and Cindy is forced to acknowledge the disturbing truth about the young woman she realizes she never really knew….
SEAL BOOKS / ISBN: 978-0-7704-2920-1
ALSO BY JOY FIELDING
SEE JANE RUN
