edges of her mouth. She twitched and scratched and her eyes were sunk in dark hollows. Grandma was worried and kind of afraid of her, mostly because she would show up angry and tear through the house saying things like Where’s the money, Mom? I know it’s here. You’re too cheap to have spent it all. Daddy wanted me to have it, now where’s the goddamn money?!
I would hide under the dining room table and Grandma would watch as my mother rifled through her jewelry box taking whatever she wanted, while Candy paced and said things like Didn’t you used to have a sapphire ring, Mrs. Huff ? Yeah, Mr. Huff gave it to you after he slept with that barmaid over at the Red Fox, remember? Now where did that go? and making everything worse.
It was then, watching Grandma cry and sit, helpless as they stole all her stuff that I hated my mother, hated her and her ugly friend with her pale, watery eyes, tiny, yellow teeth and too-wide gums, hated that she and Candy were always together, that when she smiled and laughed it was always with Candy and never with me, and that she never talked to me unless she had to.
I hated that she blew in like a bad storm, wreaked havoc, and then blew out again, leaving a trail of wreckage in her wake. And sometimes I hated Grandma, too, for not being strong enough to stop her.
When I was almost eight, Mrs. Carroll the neighbor came to school and picked me up in the middle of the day. She told me Grandma Lucy had passed away in an accident, that she had fallen down and hit her head on the cement back-porch step sometime that morning, that my mother and Candy had dropped in and found her, and that they were very upset and waiting for me at home right now.
And so my mother inherited everything, including me, and that was how we all came to live together in the old blue house.
Chapter 8
I’M COLD AND TIRED, AND THE bank seems steeper now and more slippery, but thanks to Candy pitching my stuff over the edge, I have to climb up it again to make another distress signal. It’s slow, hard going but I finally claw my way back to the top and drag the canvas bag into place at the edge of the snowy tracks. I don’t know if my ruby-blazer signal is going to work anymore because Candy’s tire tracks have crisscrossed and confused the ones going over the bank, making them way less noticeable.
She’d better call someone.
She really better or I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I look up and down the curving road.
No headlights, just darkness.
“Come on,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. “Come on, somebody.” My fingers are numb inside Harlow’s gloves and my feet feel like chunks of frozen meat. How long am I supposed to stand out here waiting?
I glance back at the truck. See the ghostly outline of Evan’s face through the shattered window. I can’t tell if he’s watching me or has passed out, but I wave anyway.
I wait, but he doesn’t wave back.
That’s not good.
I’m going to have to get into that truck and see if I can find his cell phone. Fast.
I crouch and fumble the ruby blazer back through the bag’s handles. Spread it out to make it more noticeable. Is this futile? I don’t know.
Maybe I should have just gone with her. Candy is petty and spiteful and a little nuts. Not a good enemy to have.
She could drive all the way back to the hospital without even trying to call anyone for help, and later just say she didn’t have any cell service. She would do that, too, just to show me what happens when I cross her.
Candy’s a Fee, from the back mountain ridge Fees, and they’ll tell you themselves that they’re a really badass crew. They hate the government, the rich, minorities, foreigners, gays—well, unless they’re porn star Barbie-doll lesbians—vegetarians, suits, feminists, yuppies, cops, seat belts, and speed limits. They used to run a pretty profitable still but upgraded to a meth lab that blew up and left Candy’s daddy, who was fresh out of prison and
I would hide under the dining room table and Grandma would watch as my mother rifled through her jewelry box taking whatever she wanted, while Candy paced and said things like Didn’t you used to have a sapphire ring, Mrs. Huff ? Yeah, Mr. Huff gave it to you after he slept with that barmaid over at the Red Fox, remember? Now where did that go? and making everything worse.
It was then, watching Grandma cry and sit, helpless as they stole all her stuff that I hated my mother, hated her and her ugly friend with her pale, watery eyes, tiny, yellow teeth and too-wide gums, hated that she and Candy were always together, that when she smiled and laughed it was always with Candy and never with me, and that she never talked to me unless she had to.
I hated that she blew in like a bad storm, wreaked havoc, and then blew out again, leaving a trail of wreckage in her wake. And sometimes I hated Grandma, too, for not being strong enough to stop her.
When I was almost eight, Mrs. Carroll the neighbor came to school and picked me up in the middle of the day. She told me Grandma Lucy had passed away in an accident, that she had fallen down and hit her head on the cement back-porch step sometime that morning, that my mother and Candy had dropped in and found her, and that they were very upset and waiting for me at home right now.
And so my mother inherited everything, including me, and that was how we all came to live together in the old blue house.
Chapter 8
I’M COLD AND TIRED, AND THE bank seems steeper now and more slippery, but thanks to Candy pitching my stuff over the edge, I have to climb up it again to make another distress signal. It’s slow, hard going but I finally claw my way back to the top and drag the canvas bag into place at the edge of the snowy tracks. I don’t know if my ruby-blazer signal is going to work anymore because Candy’s tire tracks have crisscrossed and confused the ones going over the bank, making them way less noticeable.
She’d better call someone.
She really better or I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I look up and down the curving road.
No headlights, just darkness.
“Come on,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. “Come on, somebody.” My fingers are numb inside Harlow’s gloves and my feet feel like chunks of frozen meat. How long am I supposed to stand out here waiting?
I glance back at the truck. See the ghostly outline of Evan’s face through the shattered window. I can’t tell if he’s watching me or has passed out, but I wave anyway.
I wait, but he doesn’t wave back.
That’s not good.
I’m going to have to get into that truck and see if I can find his cell phone. Fast.
I crouch and fumble the ruby blazer back through the bag’s handles. Spread it out to make it more noticeable. Is this futile? I don’t know.
Maybe I should have just gone with her. Candy is petty and spiteful and a little nuts. Not a good enemy to have.
She could drive all the way back to the hospital without even trying to call anyone for help, and later just say she didn’t have any cell service. She would do that, too, just to show me what happens when I cross her.
Candy’s a Fee, from the back mountain ridge Fees, and they’ll tell you themselves that they’re a really badass crew. They hate the government, the rich, minorities, foreigners, gays—well, unless they’re porn star Barbie-doll lesbians—vegetarians, suits, feminists, yuppies, cops, seat belts, and speed limits. They used to run a pretty profitable still but upgraded to a meth lab that blew up and left Candy’s daddy, who was fresh out of prison and
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