I mutter, “Not yet,” before I can stop myself.
Her head whips around, eyes sharp. I plaster on something that might pass for a grin and head for the drink table. I pour water instead of more booze because I can feel the thin line between pissed and reckless getting too close.
She glides back to Chad’s side. To everyone else, she looks like a perfect hostess. To me, she looks like a bomb in a sequined dress.
I drift along the edge of the room, nodding when people look my way, tuning out their conversations. My thoughts running rampant.
Uncle Silas. Uncle G. Penelope.
My TA. My target. The woman I want. The woman who looked at me like I was too young and too much, then grabbed me in a closet because she needed an escape and my hands happened to be there.
I want to be mad at her. Really mad. Every time I think she lied, my brain flips to her saying she didn’t know. She didn’t know who they were. I believe that. I hate that I believe that.
All of it is a giant mess.
My family is a giant mess.
I know that. I’ve always known that.
I just didn’t realize how deep it went.
I finish my water and set the glass down on a tray. I’m about to slip out to the back balcony to breathe when Mom brushes past me again, muttering something about taking a call.
Her face is stretched tight, and she doesn’t notice I’m close enough to hear.
“I’ll be ten minutes,” she tells a passing server. “No interruptions.”
She heads toward Chad’s office. It used to be his and his previous wife’s library. Now it is half office, half shrine to her.
Curiosity pricks at me. I angle my body, wait a beat, then follow quietly down the hall.
The door to the office is mostly closed. Not all the way. A soft wedge of light spills onto the hallway rug. I hover just around the corner, far enough not to be seen if someone walks past, close enough that I can hear if Mom raises her voice.
At first there’s nothing. Just the murmur of the party behind me. Then I hear it. The clipped, icy version of her voice she uses when things are not going her way.
“I told you not to call me tonight,” she says.
Whoever is on the other end has pissed her off royally.
My mom snaps, “No, you listen to me. We had an agreement, and if you can't handle one girl, I will find another facility that can.”
A cold chill slides down my spine.
One girl.
My brain jumps straight to Minxy.
Mom’s heels click softly against the floor as she paces.
“She’s not coming home anytime soon,” Mom says. “I don’t care what she told you about wanting to see her brother. She stays where she is, do you understand? There are expectations. There are rules. If she is here, she runs her mouth, and if she runs her mouth, we all lose.”
My stomach twists.
Mom laughs, sharp and humorless. “Don’t say you are worried about her. She’s fine there. She has classes, structure, and supervision. It’s more than she would get here with Chad tripping over himself to be liked and my son trying to play bad boy.”
I clench my fists.
My sister wants to see me. Of course she does. I’ve been back for how long and I haven't seen her once, and every time I ask, she feeds me some line about schedules and test days.
