“That’s enough outta you, young lady. You know we can’t afford another car. You trying to stress your father out even more?” Her voice is shrill, hideous.
“I know how to drive the truck. If I had my license, he’d let me. I could be added to the insurance—”
“Julia,” Mom says sharply, cutting me off. “Get me a bottle of tea tree oil from the shed, the washbasin, and a couple of clean rags.”
But Julia lingers, her eyes darting between me and Mom. She loves it when we argue, when I get in trouble.
“Julia! Now!”
My sister slowly rises, takes her sweet-ass time exiting.
“Don’t hurry or anything, I’m just in danger of losing my leg.” I cut my eyes at her.
She pauses, shakes her head, but finally heads out the back door.
Mom grips my wrists, squeezes them. “For where you have envy and selfish ambition, there you find disorder and every evil practice.”
She stares me down, her eyes steely.
“James 3:16,” I shoot back. “I know this verse very well, Mother.”
“Humph. I’m surprised you remembered. Seems to me like you’ve forgotten it. Carrying on about what other teens, so-called ‘normal teens,’ might have—”
I yank my wrists from her grip, but literally bite my tongue. If my leg’s not broken, I’m going out tonight, and I don’t want to push it.
We sit in silence, glaring at each other. Her eyes taunt me, wanting to provoke me, push me. I keep my trap shut.
Baby Molly stirs in her crib, her golden curls damp with sweat against her forehead.
Julia toes the back door open, supplies in hand.
Mom pours the tea tree oil on a rag, then applies it to my leg.
I nearly jump from the chair; it feels like she’s sticking me with a fire poker.
A snicker bubbles out of Julia, and I notice the corners of Mom’s lips slightly lifting, too, as if she’s trying to hide her smile.
“Jesus, Mom, you could’ve diluted it!”
“Not with these wounds! I have to get it clean. Now settle back down.”
At least this time she dips the rag in the washbasin first, then dots it again with the oil. It stings less this way, but still, I can’t get away from these two soon enough.
16
Jane
A few hours later, while Mom is busy in the kitchen cooking dinner, I slip into the bathroom to do my makeup.
I called Blair earlier. She’ll be here in ten minutes.
To spite Mom, I put my black eyeliner on extra thick, swipe on my darkest red lipstick. And because my leg’s wrapped in a bandage, I’m wearing a miniskirt. Well, sort of a mini. It’s something Pa bought me in a secondhand shop in Dallas, only because I begged him. It comes down to my knees—that’s the only reason Mom allows me to wear it—but I’m able to roll the waist up, make it shorter when I’m out.
I step out of the bathroom.
Everyone’s now sitting around the dining table.
Mom eyes me. “Where do you think you’re going, dressed up like that?”
