by Kyla Stone
Arianna takes several small sips of the hot chocolate. “There. I drank half of it. That’s—that’s all I can do right now.” Her hand trembles when she puts her mug down on the carpet.
“Good enough, for now. You feel okay?”
She nods, pressing her hands against her stomach. “Yeah. I do.”
I take a deep breath. Chicago isn’t that far away. I could come home every weekend, check on the boys, make sure they’re okay. “The big city idea of yours. It isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”
Her face breaks into a smile. “Let’s do it.” She hesitates, tilting her head as she looks at me. “But you can’t stay like this. It’s like your anger is burning you up inside.”
“Deep words, Beauty Queen.” But we both know she’s right. I don’t want to be this way. I know that now. I want the light Lucas cracked open and the warmth Arianna brings with her calm, steady, dependable, gentle self. I want light, and life, and laughter. And something like love.
I want the future Arianna painted for me, of art school in a big city with the skyscrapers arcing above me and lights and sounds and the studio apartment with someone to come back to, someone to share it all with, someone who knows all my dark places and likes me anyway. I want a future where I forge a new me, a new life, but my ties to home, to my brothers, are still strong as steel. I want it all. I need these things like oxygen after nearly drowning.
Arianna leans in close. I see all of her flaws, the cracks in her makeup, the smudged hollows beneath her eyes. “You’re the strongest person I know. You didn’t come this far to falter now.”
“What’s that even supposed to mean? You sound like an afterschool Lifetime movie special.”
“You know exactly what it means. You need to find whatever answers are there to find, even if they’re the ones you fear the most.”
My breath hitches in my throat. “Then what?”
“And then, you move on. You find a way to forgive.”
“I don’t know—I don’t know if I can do that. I mean, I know it’s part of your religion and everything. It’s just not for me. How can I possibly do that? After everything?” I hate both of my parents. I hate myself most of all. How can a bright, shiny word like forgiveness fit into all this darkness?
“Forgiveness isn’t about letting the person who hurt you off the hook. It doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences or that you even have to talk to them ever again. It’s about letting it go, setting yourself free. So you can live your life with peace instead of bitterness, hatred, and resentment, all those toxic things that destroy us.”
“Letting go,” I echo.
She fingers the lacy edge of her comforter. “It’s about forgiving ourselves, too. Like, grace is right there, waiting for us to accept it.”
I roll my eyes. “You sure you don’t want to be a pastor like your dad? ’Cause you sure sound like you’re preaching.”
Still, I hear every word she says.
It’s like daylight is pressing against the skin of my eyelids. All I need to do is open my eyes.
I just have to remember how.
38
“I’m sorry,” Aunt Ellie says. She’s standing in the doorway to my room, staring at me with hooded eyes.
My heart tightens in my chest. It’s hard to breathe. It’s the first Monday of Christmas break. The boys are in their room on the PlayStation. I’m supposed to be catching up on all the homework I missed this semester. Instead, I sit on my bed, staring at my wall of butterfly art until my eyes burn. “What happened?”
Aunt Ellie just returned from the circuit courthouse for Ma’s sentencing hearing. “She wouldn’t say a bad word against Frank, not a thing. There wasn’t much the defense could do.”
“Just tell me.” My voice sounds raw in my own ears.
“The judge gave her 30 years.”
My gaze lands on an iron-hued butterfly from the U.K., the Large Blue. As a grub-like caterpillar, it excretes the addictive scent of honeydew from its glands to attract worker ants. The worker ants carry the caterpillar to their colony and deposit it directly into their nest of ant larvae. The caterpillar secretes the sugary honeydew the adult ants crave, while devouring the ant eggs and larvae for its own food. In some cases, the caterpillar consumes so many ant babies, the entire colony collapses. The ants sacrifice their young to the point of their own destruction.
I stare at the picture until my vision blurs. Frank did this to me. So did Ma. They did it together. My own parents. I was a child and their hurt was intentional, driven by their own arrogance and self-interest. Their own need stunting, warping, and twisting them until they were withered husks of want. Always howling for more. Always taking, taking, taking.
Except Ma went into that court room and accepted the blame. She’s going to prison instead of me. She gave up her life for me. And this is something I don’t know what to do with.
“It’s not all bad,” Aunt Ellie says quietly. “The lawyer said she could be out in twenty, with good behavior. I’m so sorry, Sidney.”
I don’t speak. There’s absolutely nothing to say.
“Susan will be transferred to the Women’s Huron Valley Correctional Facility in Ypsilanti. It’s almost two and a half hours away.”
I blink back the tears. The pain inside me is a living thing, burrowing deep.
“I filled out visitation application forms,” Aunt Ellie says. “You just need to sign yours, and then you can go see her. They have some crazy rules up in that prison. You can’t wear hoodies, or holes in your jeans, or clothing too loose or too tight. And get this, no underwire bras. Can you believe it? Every under-thing I own is from Victoria’s Secret. I’ll have to go bra shopping just so I can visit my own sister.” She coughs, like she’s trying to mask a sob.
“Okay.”
She stands in my doorway, hesitating. “You know you can talk to me, right? If there’s ever anything you need to say. If there’s anything you want to tell me. I’m here.”
“Thanks, Aunt Ellie.” But I don’t say anything. I can’t. Not now, when the thought of my mother’s future settles on my shoulders like ash.
39
For the next four days, a massive snowstorm covers all of southwest Michigan. Brokewater is like a little village trapped in a constantly shaking snow globe. Great buckets of snow spiral relentlessly from the iron-bellied sky. The storm knocks out the power, traps cars in driveways. Snow drowns everything, swallowing up mailboxes, power lines, cars. The drifts pile up taller than my bedroom window.
Aunt Ellie paces the living room like a stressed-out house cat, twisting at the rope of pearls around her neck and tugging at her earrings, topaz angel wings dripping with tiny rubies. She keeps checking weather updates on her phone, tapping the screen with her perfectly painted bubblegum pink fingernails as the thermometer slips lower and lower.
“It’s this house,” she says, staring out the window. “There’s something wrong with this house.”
On Christmas Eve, I tell the boys we’re having a sleepover. For once, Frankie decides to act halfway decent. We drag the boys’ mattresses into the living room, push the presents and the tree out of the way, and shove the mattresses in front of the couch. We strip all the beds of their comforters and pilfer my parents’ old closet, where Ma kept the extra blankets. Frankie helps me pull in the kitchen chairs, and we build a fort over the mattresses with sheets. Frankie and Aaron burrow beneath the makeshift tent and make shapes and shadows with their flashlights, cupping the flashlights beneath their chins and whispering about ghosts and witches.
I ask the boys what they want for supper. “Marshmallow delight!” Frankie shouts. Aaron dissolves into a fit of giggles.
This is another treat I’ve been making them since Aaron was a toddler: two pieces of peanut-butter covered bread stuffed with several big marshmallows. Usually I heat them up in the microwave, which the boys love because the marshmallows swell like balloons and make the sandwich look enormous. “I can’t make them hot with
out electricity.”
“We don’t care!” The boys chorus.
Later, they fall asleep wrapped up in blankets, marshmallow fluff scabbing their lips, their winter hats pressed over their ears. I wear two sweatshirts and my coat, and still I’m shivering.
The storm breaks early on Christmas morning. The sun reflecting off the blanket of snow is so bright it’s hard to look outside without squinting. After breakfast, we open presents. I get Aaron his first watercolor paint set. Aunt Ellie buys him an easel taller than he is, which makes his eyes bug out and his face crinkle up in a gigantic grin. I get Frankie some cool decals for his skate board and scooter. I bought Aunt Ellie a pair of funky earrings I found on Ebay. They look like garlands, with some sort of green, leaf-shaped metal dotted with garnet and topaz jewels.
She takes off the lemon-yellow drop earrings she’s wearing and puts them on. She winks at Aaron. “How festive!”
I open the smallest present last. Inside a velvet box is a white gold ring studded with tiny, glittering diamonds. The center is a fiery blue sapphire shaped like a heart. I pull off one of the plastic rings on my left hand and slip it on. It fits perfectly. It must have cost . . . I don’t even know how much. My stomach knots up. It’s too beautiful to look at. “I can’t take this.”
“Of course you can. Look how you want to feel, darling.” Aunt Ellie raises a pretend glass. “To family. And new beginnings.”
I can get behind family. But new beginnings? Is it even possible, after everything that’s happened? I hope it’s possible for my brothers, maybe for little Zoe Rose. But for me? The shadows always flit at the corner of my mind. The guilt, the shame, and the anger, they’re always here, just below the surface. The monster isn’t going away. It’s growing larger, feeding on my fear, lying in wait for me.
I imagine my mother, sitting silent and still, her limp arms forming a baby-shaped space. She should be here, sharing this moment with us. She should be sitting here, surrounded by shredded wrapping paper and opened boxes, the lights from the tree twinkling in her eyes. I took that away from her.
“Sidney?” Aunt Ellie asks. Everyone’s looking at me.
I blink rapidly, force a smile on my face. “It’s beautiful.” And I mean it.
The rest of Christmas break passes in a blur. I see Arianna a couple of times, but mostly I text Lucas, who’s visiting his mom in Florida. I write final essays about the role of women in classic literature and the literary uses of mental illness in Shakespeare, answer end-of-chapter Government questions, and write formula after formula for AP Chem.
Twice Aunt Ellie takes the boys the two and a half hours to see Ma and asks me to come. Both times my body goes numb and my mind fills with a black cloud of shame. I can’t think, can barely breathe.
Aunt Ellie looks at me funny, like there’s something she wants to ask me, but she never does.
40
The first week back at school, I have to stay after every day to take my make-up exams. Whether I actually did okay or my teachers took pity on me, I somehow manage to pass all my classes with Bs. Except for Badminton, which I failed. Figures.
I’m heading to the cafeteria to grab some Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups before class when I hear the familiar buzz in the air, the hush and murmur and shuffle of bodies heading toward something interesting. Further down the hall, several people cluster around the end of the bank of lockers. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
I elbow several people to get through. There’s Margot, in black leggings and a tight, shimmery sweater dress, her arms folded over her chest. A catty, malicious smile plays across her cherry red lips. She’s surrounded by her usual crew. Arianna shrinks against her locker, her face pale.
I shove past Nyah and Eli and stand next to Arianna. “What the hell?”
Arianna’s eyes widen when she sees me. I can’t tell if she’s relieved or worried about what I might do next.
Margot raises her eyebrows. “Look who it is.”
My muscles tense. “What’s your problem?”
Jasmine and Isabel stand to Margot’s left. I look at Jasmine, and she shakes her head slightly, some sort of signal to me. I don’t know how to interpret it. An apology? A warning? Or nothing at all?
Margot pulls lip gloss out of a pocket in her sweater dress and daubs it on her mouth. “We were explaining a few things about loyalty, trust, and the meaning of friendship, which some people don’t seem to get at all. In fact, certain girls scurry around here like filthy little rats. Traitors. Repulsive, don’t you think?”
“The only person who’s repulsive here is you,” I say. “Now get out of our way.”
Margot’s lips twitch. “I just think it’s so sweet how you two social pariahs have become little besties. Sweet or sickening. I can’t decide.”
“I don’t care what you think. And neither does Arianna. Just leave us alone.”
Margot cocks her head, as if studying me. “I’ve been wanting to offer my condolences to you and your family.”
“Months later? I think this is a prime example of too little, too late.”
“I was giving you your space, which you obviously need more of. Are you always this rude and sarcastic?”
“No. Sometimes I’m asleep.”
A few people laugh.
Margot glowers at me. “Can’t you even have a functional conversation like a human being?”
“Next time I have a conversation with an actual human being, I’ll let you know. I’m pretty sure this doesn’t qualify.”
Eli snorts. Then he says, “Margot.”
There’s a small crowd around us now. Margot tilts her head toward him but keeps her gaze lasered in on me. “What?”
“Leave her alone.”
Her perfectly arched brows shoot up in surprise. “I’m simply offering her some friendly advice—”
“I think she’s had enough advice,” he says.
“What he said.” I jerk my thumb back at Eli. “Plus, I’m pretty sure my moron cup is already full.”
Margot’s eyes narrow to slits. She jabs her finger against my chest. “Don’t think this is over. Just because your mom’s a murderous psycho doesn’t mean you’re not the same trashy skank you were before.”
I take a step forward, until I’m inches from her face. Instinctively, she moves back. My pulse thuds in my throat. I’m so hot, my skin feels singed. “How are you even still a thing? You just don’t get it, do you? Nobody actually likes you. Everyone’s afraid of you. But they shouldn’t be. You’re pathetic.”
“You better shut your fat face.” She glances at Nyah to back her up, but Nyah doesn’t say anything. She looks like she’s sucking on something sour, something distasteful.
There’s a shift in the air. This doesn’t feel the same as before. People stare at Margot, not at me. I still have their sympathy. I’m still the ghost-girl, burdened by tragedy. Margot’s bullying tactics finally reveal what she really is—ugly to her core.
My mouth fills with a dozen scathing cut downs. I could slice her to pieces right here, without lifting a finger. The crowd is on my side. I never took my revenge for the beach. I could punch her, smash her pretty nose, yank out chunks of her hair, drag her to the ground. Nobody would stop me. But I don’t need to. I have a better idea. “Listen close and try to follow along. This is important. If you ever bother Arianna again, I will march into Dr. Yang’s office and tell him what you did to me.”
“So what?”
I look at Eli. “The stupid is strong in this one.”
A few people titter.
“I’ll tell him everything,” I say. “I’ll show him the video. You know, the one where you try to assault me with a knife?”
“There’s no video.”
“No? You sure about that? You think every person at that party is loyal to you, Queen Bitch of Nowhere High?”
Her icy smile falters, just for a second.
“Do you know what will happen then? The school will call the police. And I’ll
press charges to the fullest extent of the law. How does attempted assault with a deadly weapon sound on your college applications?”
Margot’s nostrils flare. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I straighten my shoulders. “Try me. You want to play that game of chicken? Be my guest. But you’ll lose. So, take my advice. Don’t say another word to Arianna. Ever. Don’t even look at her funny. In fact, if I see you trying your snide, ugly tactics on anybody at this school, I’m going to the police. We clear?”
Margot’s face darkens in fury. She looks like a fading, wild-eyed queen, desperate to hold on to her crown. “You little bitch.”
Eli grabs her arm. “It’s seriously time to go.”
Arianna’s beside me, anchoring me. I glance at Jasmine again. Her eyes are rimmed with red. She looks miserable.
I imagine my legs, pounding to freedom. I imagine electric blue butterfly wings, glinting in sunlight. “See you around, Jasmine.”
I grab Arianna’s arm, and we walk through the crowd. As soon as we round the corner, Arianna hugs me.
“I can’t even describe how much I love you right now.” Her cheeks are bright, her eyes shining. “That was—it was—”
“Totes amazeballs?”
She bursts out laughing. “Yes! You took her down like a boss. I’m pretty sure you’re going to have your own fan club now. I hope you’re prepared.”
Mr. Cross pokes his head out of the doorway. “Are you two planning on making it to class today, ladies? Because it seems like there’s a party going on out here some of us are missing out on.”
“Yes, sir,” Arianna says between giggles.
“Good one, Mr. Cross,” I say.
He rolls his eyes. “Just come to class, please.”
Arianna and I exchange looks as we head into the classroom. She winks at me and I smile back. A real smile, like I haven’t felt in months, or maybe even years. But today, this is real. And it feels better than I can say.
