Always by me.
It started out simple. Logan needed a new backpack for school? No problem. As long as I did a few extra chores to “pay” for it under Mr. Phillips’ watchful eye. My brother wanted a little spending money to grab a snack during school? Absolutely. As long as I stayed up and watched television on the couch with our foster dad, even though there was plenty of other furniture to sit on. Logan outgrew his clothes and needed new ones? Sure. Not a problem, he’d tell me with that half-faced smile. Why don’t you get some, too? But I’ll come with you, and I want you to try everything on for me. And why don’t you try on these little shorts and this tiny bathing suit? Just for fun…
It wasn’t the most comfortable life for me. Mr. Phillips was a perv who liked young girls. And every day when I got out of the shower, I’d stare at my growing boobs and widening hips and the hair that now grew where I’d never had any before, and my eyes would fill with tears. While most girls my age were wearing clothes that showed off every curve they legally could, I hid behind too-tight bras, baggy shirts, and loose pants. I never wore a pretty skirt because I wasn’t stupid. Skirts were easy access to private areas of my body, and I always tried my best not to tempt him.
But otherwise, this foster home wasn’t that bad. Mrs. Phillips fed us well, kept the house clean, and seemed to genuinely enjoy having us here, even if she didn’t talk to us all that much. Behind her sad smile and concerned eyes, I could see she knew what was going on with me and her husband, but I also knew that she’d never stand up to him.
I was on my own.
I didn’t resent her for this. Like us, she was entirely dependent on the man. And honestly, I think she was a little afraid of him. I wasn’t sure why. I’d never seen him lift a hand to her. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t something going on behind closed doors that I didn’t know about. She was only trying to survive. Just like us.
Then there were the nights when Mr. Phillips didn’t come home at all. Those nights were happy and carefree for Logan and me as we ate dinner with Mrs. Phillips and told her about our days. She’d make the best dinners on those nights, things she never made for her husband, like fancy chicken cutlets with lemon or lasagna and garlic bread. And later we’d pick a movie to watch and she’d make popcorn and let us have soda and we’d all sit around and throw popcorn at the television and complain loudly about how stupid the ending was or how gross the kissing was. That last part was for Logan’s sake. He wouldn’t be interested in kissing anyone for a few years yet.
As for me, I’d never kissed anyone yet, either. I’d never even been on a date. But I would. Someday. When my brother was grown, and we were in our own place. And I didn’t have to worry about leaving him alone in a house with people who weren’t our real parents. Until that time, I’d be sticking close to him.
It was a few months before my sixteenth birthday when I found out where Mr. Phillips was going those nights he didn’t come home. Logan had been gone for two nights, and so far, he hadn’t come up with a way for me to “pay” for my brother’s summer camp. And I found out why.
He had a new game to teach me.
I was finishing up the dishes on Tuesday night after Mrs. Phillips said she had a migraine and went to bed early when he wandered into the kitchen. “Hey, Luna. Are you about done?”
My heart jumped into my throat at the sound of his voice. “Um. Just about.” I didn’t ask him why he wanted to know. I never asked questions that would encourage him to keep conversing with me.
“I had an idea that I thought might be fun.”
Finishing up the last pieces of silverware, I rinsed them off and put them in the dishwasher without responding. I could feel his eyes on my ass when I bent too close to the dishwasher door, even wearing baggy jean shorts that came practically to my knees and an oversized T-shirt like a skater. I’d never been on a skateboard in my life, but I’d convinced him it was the “style” in school.
“I’m sure you know that summer camp is pretty damn expensive,” he told me. “And at first, I was thinking you could make it up to me by helping around the yard and such like you usually do. But then I realized you’d be pulling weeds forever if I did that. So, I thought we could play some cards instead. I need the practice for my poker nights. And if you win, you won’t have to earn back the privilege of Logan getting to go to camp. What do you think?”
I turned around slowly, the sponge I’d been using to wipe up the counter still in my hand. “I don’t know how to play poker.”
“I’ll teach you.”
Yeah, right. He’d probably cheat. And there’s no way I would know. He was cornering me into something I knew instinctively would change my life living here. I didn’t know how I knew this. I just did. I could feel it in the tense way he held his shoulders and how he kept peeking toward the master bedroom, where his wife was probably lying in bed with a cold washcloth over her eyes like she always did when she claimed she had a migraine. “I really don’t mind doing yard work,” I told him. “And maybe I could help Mrs. Phillips with more stuff around the house.”
“Aww, come on now. What fun is that? Let me teach you how to play poker. You’ll be glad I did someday.”
I tried again. “I have homework. And I have no money.” Something he damn well knew.
“You don’t need any money for this.”
I stared at him for a long time, watching his hands as he tossed the deck of cards he held back and forth. Though he’d removed his shoes and jacket, he still wore the tan slacks and white button-down shirt he’d worn to work that morning. There was a bulge in the front of his pants I hadn’t noticed earlier. I tore my eyes away. “And what if I lose?” I whispered.
A slow smile spread across his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes. It creeped me the hell out.“Well, Luna, if you lose, then you’ll have to pay me by doing whatever we bet.”
I felt water dripping on my bare foot and looked down to see my hand squeezing the forgotten sponge. Quickly, I turned around and put it on the back of the sink, then grabbed the dish towel and bent down to wipe up the floor. “I can get a job,” I told him. “Pay you back that way.”
“No, Luna, you can’t. Not until you’re sixteen. And even then, you don’t have a car, and there’s no public transportation out here. How would you get to work?”
“I’d find a ride. Or call an Uber.”
“Now you’re just being silly. Why would you want to put anyone out like that? And you need money for an Uber. Even if you find someone to hire you, you won’t get paid for at least a week or maybe two. How would you get back and forth?”
The design of the tiles around my feet blurred as tears filled my eyes. I stood up before he could see them and hung the towel back where it was.
“Come on, girl. You’re making too big of a fuss out of this. We’re just gonna play a little cards. It’s early. You’ll have plenty of time to do homework.” Walking over to the four-seat kitchen table, he moved the bowl of fruit from the center and set it on the counter behind him.
Desperately, I tried to think of another way out of this. The way Mr. Phillips kept looking at me made my skin crawl. But tonight, he’d been touchier than usual—brushing up against me when he passed me on his way to the table and pulling my chair closer to his while we ate. But Logan had gone to summer camp, and I needed to pay for it. Without a job, I was at my foster father’s mercy, or he wouldn’t allow Logan to do anything like this again. Or worse.
