Read Online Complicit by Stephanie Kuehn - Free Book Online Page B

that.”
    â€œIt’s okay. I am slutty. You think I don’t know that? I let people use me, and when they’re done with their using, there’s less of me and more of them.”
    â€œStop,” I say. This kind of rambling is classic Cate.
    â€œHey, you still got that problem with your hands?” she asks.
    My head is starting to hurt. A tight throbbing pain. How does she know this? How does she know anything ? “Yeah, I do.”
    â€œWhat sets it off again? Tell me.”
    I sigh. “Getting startled. Extreme emotional states.”
    â€œAny emotional state?”
    â€œPretty much.”
    â€œMmm, what about sex, then? That’s extreme, right? It’d be funny, too. Like if you were jerking it and almost there, like so close, and your hands went and died on you. Unless, of course, you’ve graduated to finding someone who can do that for you.”
    I groan. Why is it that everyone around me is obsessed with my nonexistent sex life? Isn’t that my job? “I’m not talking about this with you.”
    Cate laughs, long and hard. “Right. Like there’s any chance you aren’t as cringingly virginal as the last time we saw each other.”
    My grip tightens on the phone and that’s when I do pull over and turn the engine off. I unbuckle myself and get out. My ears are filled with the screech of the Steller’s jays.
    â€œYour message said you were coming back to Danville,” I whisper.
    â€œOh, I might,” she says in her fight-flighty way.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhat? You don’t want to see your own sister ?” Cate’s voice begins spiraling up, taking on that edge I know too well. “I’m the only goddamn family you’ve got, James. Me! Just me! That’s it!”
    â€œI know. ”
    â€œTHEN WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME FEEL LIKE SHIT?”
    â€œNo, no, I’m not trying—you said—”
    â€œFUCK! FUCK! FUCK!” In the background I hear a loud crash and what sounds like glass breaking.
    â€œWhat was that?” I ask. “Are you okay? Is there someone with you?”
    There’s more crashing. I think she’s dropped the phone on the ground. Maybe she’s outside somewhere, because I hear a bus go by and voices, too. They sound close. Then comes a bunch of muffled breathing and a frantic, gasping, “Jamie?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œYou’re still there, right?”
    â€œI’m still here.”
    â€œGood. There are things we need to talk about. You and me. Things you need to know.”
    I push my hair back. I’m sweating. What the hell is going on? What does she want from me ? I’m the one who knows her secrets. She wouldn’t want that to come out any more than I do. I kick at the front tire of the Jeep. Then I kick it again. “Have you, you know, called Angie and Malcolm yet? I bet they’d want to see you.”
    â€œFuck you!” she screams, one last time. “You’re an asshole!”
    Then she hangs up.

SEVENTEEN
    The thing is, it hurts to watch someone you love go crazy.
    Crazy isn’t feeling misunderstood or laughing at the wrong times or finding meaning in music that other people don’t like. Crazy isn’t studying hard, chasing good grades, and earning them but still ending up in the bathroom with stomach cramps before school. And crazy isn’t wondering why you should even bother getting out of bed every morning in the first place when all you’re going to do is crawl back into it at the end of the day and wish feverishly that everything that happened in between could be swept away and forgotten like the drab fleeting sands of time. No, real crazy is about taking something good and spoiling it.
    Turning it rotten.
    Â 
    Â 
    â€œAaaagh!” a fourteen-year-old Cate screamed. “How dare you!”
    â€œDo not raise your voice at me, young lady.” Angie stood in the second-floor hallway with