“No.Sluttier. Dirty.”
Dueling emotions tumble inside me. First, I feel like my whole world has been tilted on its side.Who am I?But also, there’s elation. Liberation. This means I’m not the spawn of Mom. And the fact I’ve always felt like an outsider with her and Julia, now I get it. Now I understand why she’s always despised me.
But if I’m not hers, then…whose am I?
“Is Pa my father?” My voice trembles as I ask this question. Please, please let her say yes.
“’Course. Only reason I kept you.”
“Well, who is my real mother? And where is she?”
“I’m done with you for now. Go ask your good ol’ pa.”
75
Charleigh
Hours later, Charleigh still churns in the kitchen, halfway through a fresh pitcher of margaritas.
It’s past eleven, and it’s still so hot outside that the chill from the AC has fogged the windows. Nellie and Alexander are both upstairs; she’s grateful for that, especially after the phone call she just took.
It was Kathleen. She’d just gotten home from the hospital. “Charleigh, things have gotten weird.”
“Oh, no! What’s going on? Is Blair doing worse, or what—”
“No, that’s the thing,” she said, lowering her voice. “She’s better…and well…”
Panic rose in the back of Charleigh’s throat like bile. “Spit it out already!” she shrieked.
“Well, she woke up about six this evening, so Chip called the cops. It’ssuchgood news because she managed to stay alert until they arrived. But then…” Her voice dwindled again to a whisper. “They asked her a few questions. I was standing right there, holding Monica, ya know, in case… Well, anyway, they asked her if she’d seen anything unusual before her accident—”
“And?” Charleigh squawked, cutting Kathleen off.
“She still can’t talk, but she nodded.”
Charleigh gulped, studied the contents of her glass, watchedthe margarita slushy slowly melt. “Well, what does that mean exactly?” Hysteria clutched at her chest.
“Well, whew, then they asked if anyone had done thistoher and—”
Spit it out and quit pussyfootin’ around, Charleigh wanted to scream.
She could picture Kathleen in her giant living room, massaging lotion into her perfect calves as she doled out this intel. Charleigh wanted to drive across town and throttle her.
“And?” she asked again, sharply.
“And she nodded to that, too. But then she closed her eyes, drifted back off.”
Silence, thick as pancake batter, hung over the line.
Was Kathleen thinking the same thing Charleigh was? That Nellie had something to do with it? She couldn’t ask her, obviously, but as the silence stretched, that’s all Charleigh could think.
“That’s so creepy, right? That someone might do something like that to Blair on purpose?”
Creepywas one way to put it.Demonicwas another.
“Yes, of course. Poor thing. Sounds insane to me, though.Like, who would ever do such a thing?”
“I know! But anyway,” Kathleen said, then exhaled. “Poor Monica and Chip. I just hope Blair pulls through. It’s a good sign she’s waking up more, but Monica nearly passed out when Blair answered the police like that.”
