July 2006
Colleen Sione bent over the sink, rinsing the suds from a mismatched collection of plastic plates and cups. She'd washed the dishes by hand tonight, scrubbing longer and harder than needed in the hopes it would work out the frustration that had been building since that afternoon.
"Mommy, who was that?" Lena tugged on her skirt, still dressed in her ice cream-stained blue jumper. There was a smear of chocolate on the scalloped short sleeve of her white shirt. "Why was she at my party?"
Colleen sighed heavily, then shook her head. It was Lena's ninth birthday, and it hadn't taken long for the party to fall apart, once Kara had shown up. Why had Ryan even thought to invite her?
"I don't know, honey," she murmured. "I really don't know."
She set the last cup on the drying rack and wiped her hands on the towel tossed over her shoulder. The three-year-old triplets were standing on their chairs around the kitchen table, elbow-deep in the remains of Lena's beach-themed cake. Eleven-year-old Michael was doing his best to pull them out of it, but from the clumps of crumb sand in his chin-length hair and the rainbow of icing streaking his glasses, it was not going well. She stifled a laugh, deciding it would be better to put her worries on hold for the night.
"Come on, you three," she wiped bright yellow frosting from Kyle's chin. He was the only one who'd gotten her blond hair, the others either lighter brown or Ryan's dark brown. "I think a bath is in order."
"No!" Zach said stubbornly, his big brown eyes bright with sugar rush. "I want cake!"
"My cake!" Kyle shouted, trying to squirm out of her grip. She clicked her tongue.
"You've all had more than enough sugar today," she picked up Brianna, the remains of a fuchsia flower smeared across her pudgy tan cheeks. Her short, sandy brown pigtails had also been highlighted with it. "Time to wash off the leftovers."
"You want me to clean this up, Mom?" Michael stood at the sink, wiping his face with a damp paper towel. He groaned in dismay when he tried to clean his glasses, the icing smears just getting worse. She nodded, unable to suppress a smile.
"I'll come help when they're settled," she said, chuckling. She shifted her grip on Brianna and picked up Zach, Kyle climbing off his chair and trailing slightly behind as they headed upstairs.
<<<>>>
Michael waited until he heard the bathroom door shut before he turned to Lena, keeping his voice low in case one of them tried to sneak back.
"Dad's been gone for a while," he pointed to the living room door. "Go see what he's up to."
Lena glanced at the doorway to the hall, then nodded, tiptoeing to the entryway. She ducked behind their great-aunt's china hutch and peeked out, seeing Kara was standing too close to their dad. She was giggling, leaning and brushing against him.
"You didn't tell me you had kids," she sounded like she'd just woken up after the dentist. He shrugged.
"Didn't think I needed to," he sounded like he always did. "I have all those pictures of them in my office."
"Really? I never noticed," she ran her fingers through his curly short hair, then looked confused. "You don't think she knows, do you?"
"Of course not," he flashed a smile, one Lena had only seen him give their mother. "She's too trusting."
Kara shook her head, wobbling in her high heels on the new carpet.
"That'll get her in trouble someday."
"I know, but its good news for us," he put an arm around her and gave her that smile again. He opened the door, letting in the warm, sticky night air. "May I walk you out?"
Kara giggled again, still wobbling.
"My, what a gentleman."
He chuckled.
"You know me," he winked at her. "I live to please!"
<<<>>>
September 2006
"She's just a colleague," their father snapped defensively, his voice muffled by the kitchen door. "There's nothing going on between us!"
"Don't lie to me," their mother returned angrily, her voice edged with tears. "How long have you been seeing her?"
"I'm not seeing anyone!"
She scoffed in disbelief.
"We have been married for thirteen years, Ryan," she shouted. "How could you do this to me, to the kids?"
"I haven't done anything, Colleen," he yelled. "You're overreacting!"
"Our daughter saw you with her," her voice cracked again. "Don't tell me I'm overreacting!"
Michael cringed, able to hear everything over the music Lena had put on in the living room. Their parents had been fighting since the day after her party, when their father had come home smelling like expensive perfume and wine. The collar and cuffs of his wrinkled white shirt had been smeared with shiny pink lipstick.
"Why would Daddy cheat?"
Lena sat on her knees at the coffee table, drawing with Zach and Brianna. She only stuck with dark colors like that when she was scared or worried. He winced, wishing he hadn't explained to her what was going on.
"I couldn't tell you," he paused his game.
Unless I wanted you to break down crying, he added silently. He watched her make random dots across the page before capping her marker. She capped the others scattered across the table and dropped them in the box in the middle.
"Doesn't he love Mom anymore?"
"I'm sure he does," he shut off the GameCube; an afternoon of Luigi's Mansion had lost its appeal. "He just made a really dumb choice."
He got up from the floor and went to the arts-and-crafts rack, grabbing a pencil and a few sheets of paper. Lena scooted closer when he sat at the coffee table, watching as he filled the first page with sketches. He drew himself with oversized glasses and a big smile, flashing two victory signs. She giggled when he started one of their father—fat and bald with bloated cheeks and squinting eyes.
The pencil skipped across the page when the kitchen door banged open, their father storming out and almost stepping on Kyle. Their brother had a habit of being in just the right place for that. Their mother stopped in the doorway, her fingers white on the jamb.
"And where do you think you're going?" she demanded. He glared at her.
"A motel, where do you think?" he spat back. "And I'm not coming home until you've calmed the fuck down!"
She gasped. It wasn't the first time he'd sworn in front of them, just the first she'd been around to hear it. He grabbed his keys from the rack in the entryway and slammed the door behind him. She didn't follow, instead twisting back into the kitchen. She shut the light door so hard that it popped back open. Michael turned to Lena, hating the wide-eyed terror on her face, her fist closed so tightly on the tabletop that her nails had cut into her palm. He tried not to look at the blood standing out against the light wood.
"Something bad's going to happen, isn't it, Michael?" she asked. He just shook his head, hoping she wasn't right.
<<<>>>
March 2007
"You can't do this to me," their mother sat on the bed, her face worn and tear-stained. "Please, Ryan, don't go!"
Their father had spent the last two days clearing his stuff out of the big dresser and walk-in closet they shared, packing it all into boxes.
"I haven't been happy in a long time," he revealed coldly. "I'm leaving, Colleen, and there's nothing you can do about it."
Michael had cracked open their sliding glass door, sitting just out of sight on the back porch. Things had just kept getting worse, their father no longer trying to hide the affair.
"Ryan, please, I love you," their mother begged. "And what about the kids?"
Their father gave her a disgusted look.
"Keep them," he said simply. "I never wanted the brats, anyway."
She broke down. He scoffed, throwing the last of his things in an old hiking pack, bought for a Fourth of July camping trip that had never happened. Michael scowled, fighting his own tears.
"How long have you been seeing her?" she demanded tearfully; he'd never heard her so angry. His father smiled, cold and mean.
"Since you were pregnant with the triplets," he answered cruelly. "I wasn't going to be seen with an overgrown cow like that."
He laughed when she sobbed again, barely looking up when Michael threw the door open.
"You can't talk to Mom like that!" he stormed between them. His father scowled at him; Michael hated that he looked so much like him.
"Stay out of this, scrap," he said. "You're too young to understand."
Michael growled. That old nickname had become nothing more than an insult.
"Oh, I understand, all right," he couldn't remember being so pissed. "I understand you're a lying dirtbag that's not worth the pot he—"
His father smacked him, sending his glasses flying. His mother gasped.
"You're lucky you're even alive, you little brat," he snapped coldly. "Don't make me regret it."
He closed the pack and threw a strap over his shoulder, grabbing a small stack of boxes as he stormed out. Michael spat on another, wiping his mouth as he grabbed his glasses from the floor. His mother's normally shiny hair was dull and greasy, her clear green eyes red and puffy. He sat down next to her, hugging her tightly. She sniffled.
"Oh, Michael," she choked on a sob. "I-I'm so sorry about all this…"
"I know," he said quietly. "But it's not your fault."
She tried to smile, her scabbed over lips trembling.
"We were so happy before he started working for that new law firm," she wiped her eyes. "I don't know what happened!"
"He met Kara," he spat the name. They hadn't seen her since Lena's birthday party, but that hadn't cooled their hatred of her. "You won't let me use the words to say how I feel about her."
She laughed a little.
"You're so much like Ryan used to be," she brushed the hair from his forehead, then kissed it. "I wish he was still the man I married, but you can't help how people change."
He looked at her, wondering how anybody could treat her so badly. But he had to agree that she was too trusting, that they wouldn't be dealing with all of this now if she had walked away from his father sooner.
Not that he would ever tell her that.
"How'd you meet him, anyway?" he realized he'd never asked. She sighed wistfully, her eyes shining a bit.
"I was working at my grandfather's café in San Francisco," she started. "Ryan came in for breakfast one morning, saying he was on business from a law firm in Makakilo. He came back to ask me out after my shift, and I ended up flying back to Hawaii with him."
"Did you ever think about leaving?" he had to know. She nodded.
"A few times, but he always convinced me to stay," she tucked some hair behind her ear. It was one of few times he'd seen her without a ponytail or bun. "About a year and a half after we got married, he was transferred here, and then I found out I was pregnant with you."
It was quiet for a while, as they sat and watched the triplets play in the backyard. Lena was staring blankly out the treehouse window, where she'd been closed in all morning.
"Did Dad mean that," he asked at last. "That he never wanted us?"
Her smile was forced.
"I'm sure he didn't," she hugged him. "He's just upset."
He rolled his eyes.
"Why would he be upset? He's not the one getting—" he stopped himself. "Uh, sorry, Mom."
She wiped her tears again. They had never stopped slipping silently down her pale cheeks.
"It's all right," she sighed. "Like I said, you can't help how people change."
"I know," he kissed her cheek. "And things always get better eventually, right?"
I hope.
<<<>>>
July 2007
"Yes," Ryan nodded, feeling the growing tension in his neck. He'd been bent over his computer for hours. "Yes, I know. Thank you for telling me; goodbye."
He waited for the lawyer to hang up, then slammed the phone in the cradle. He'd filed for divorce months ago, but Colleen still refused to sign the papers; he had almost forgotten how stubborn she could be. It didn't help that the children, at least Michael and Lena, were on her side. His frustrated scowl faded a bit as he remembered what he'd had with Colleen, before a vixen like Kara had come into his life.
"Is everything okay?"
Kara slinked into the room, dressed in a tiny, pink silk nightgown and a sheer, flowing robe. Her long, tousled blond waves and demure expression reminded him why he'd left his wife for her. She was everything Colleen had been—voluptuous, compliant, ready and willing to experiment.
"She's just being difficult," he pulled her in his lap. The press of her firm, round ass against him was intoxicating. "She'll come around."
She played with the top button of his open shirt, running her hand over the thin layer of dark hair on his chest.
"I don't think your kids like me too much," she said softly, her plump, naked lips turned in a frown.
"It's been a while since they saw you," he reminded her. "They've grown up since then."
"But do you really want them?" she shrugged one slim shoulder, the sleeve of her robe slipping down her slender arm. "We won't have as much time for us if they're always around."
He scowled again.
"She'd win if I let her have them," it turned into an arrogant smirk. "Besides, they're a tax break."
She stared at him, but the shock faded quickly.
"Will everything still go like we planned?" she let the other sleeve fall.
"Of course," his smirk dropped. "They'll just be a little…delayed."
She shook her head, touching his cheek.
"You're lucky I'm so patient," she told him, her lip curling when she glanced at his wedding band. He couldn't shake the habit of wearing it. "How long has it been since you were actually happy with her?"
He chuckled.
"I barely remember, honestly," he shrugged. "I don't even know why I married her anymore."
She hummed thoughtfully, then took his hand.
"You loved her at some point, I'm sure," she pulled the ring off, smiling when it clinked to the floor, rolling away and clattering to a stop somewhere. "But I can't see it any more than you do."
He laughed again, then wrapped his arms more tightly around her. She smiled, licking her lips before she kissed him soundly.
"You'll have the life you always wanted with me, honey," she whispered, peppering his mouth with more kisses. "You'll see."
<<<>>>
April 2008
It was warm, the sky clear, the sun bright. The whisper of a breeze carried the scent of neighboring gardens across the cemetery, bringing little comfort to the crowd gathered around a fresh grave. A young woman walked to the edge, sprinkling blue and pink flower petals across the glossy casket.
"Colleen was a wonderful person," Ashley Ivanov wiped the tears from her eyes. "She was an amazing sister, friend, wife and mother. We'll all miss her dearly, but she'll always be alive in our hearts."
She tipped the wooden bowl in her hand to scatter the last of the petals and stepped back, putting an arm around Lena's shaking shoulders. She'd hardly looked up through the service, sobbing on and off into her hands. Their mother had gone missing three days before the divorce would have been finalized, found a week later on the bank of a creek outside the city, facedown and naked with her fingers trailing in the water. Her wrists and inner thighs had been slashed to ribbons, her body abused in every way imaginable. Her face had been beaten, mutilated, her blood-crusted hair chopped in ragged, uneven layers. Whoever had killed her, they'd wanted her completely erased.
Their father stood off to the side with Zach, Brianna and Kyle, fresh tears on his cheeks. Michael glared at him from beneath dark bangs, fury warping the grief in his eyes. He walked around the crowd and stopped next to Lena, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly.
"Goodbye, Mom," he whispered, his voice shaking. "We love you. Say hi to grandma for us, okay?"
The broken family lingered long after everyone else had left. The triplets, too young to understand death, were playing among the gravestones, and it hadn't taken Lena long to join them. Michael sat in the shadow of a maple tree, still glowering at their father. He had pulled out his phone the second everyone was gone, and Michael knew he was talking to Kara.
"It's hard to believe she's gone," he sighed deeply. "There's still so much I wanted to tell her."
He looked over his shoulder, clearing his throat when he saw Michael's angry glower, then walked further away. He ended the call a few minutes later, saying it was time to leave.
"We'll visit Mom every weekend," he told Lena when she cried again. "I promise."
"I don't want to visit her," she shouted tearfully, her sobs getting the triplets started. Michael did what he could to calm them down. "I want her to come home with us!"
"I do, too," his voice cracked, but Michael didn't believe a word of it. "But you know she can't anymore."
"Why not?" she demanded, stamping her foot. "She didn't deserve this, it's not fair! It's not fair!"
He sighed heavily, kneeling in front of her.
"I know it isn't," he hugged her again. "But there's nothing we can do."
Lena cried harder, burying her face in his black suit jacket. After a while, she sniffled loudly, swiping at her puffy eyes with her sleeve.
"Daddy," she hiccuped. "Promise you won't leave, too!"
"I—" he choked, then cleared his throat. "I won't, honey, I promise."
<<<>>>
February 2009
It took less than a year for their father to remarry. They'd barely gotten used to their mother's absence when he had made the announcement, confirming what Michael had feared from the start.
"I thought it'd be nice to have a woman's touch around here again," he'd put his arm around Kara's shoulders, a fresh pair of gold wedding bands glinting on their fingers. Her wide smile was a contrast to her eyes—clouded, careless and cold. He and his siblings had had no part in the ceremony, they'd only heard about it second-hand from their aunt, when she'd haltingly explained one morning that their father had left on his honeymoon. It had been almost a month until he and Kara had brought them home.
"I'll try not to change too much around here," she'd said, the smile turning down. "But there will still be a few new rules."
Those 'few new rules' had turned the house into a prison. The television had been moved from the living room to the master bedroom, the remote locked away with Kara's jewelry. The GameCube and discs had been sold, their arts-and-crafts supplies tossed. The playroom had been cleared out for office space, their toys and games donated. The treehouse had been dismantled, the tree removed to make room for a daffodil garden. The old basketball hoop had been taken off the garage, the backboard and treehouse parts used for bonfire kindling.
The weekday curfew was four-thirty, barely enough time to get home once school let out; every weekend saw the girls deep cleaning the house while the boys did the yard work. Chores had to be finished by dinner at six-thirty, or they went to bed hungry. If their homework wasn't done by bedtime at nine, their beds were stripped to the mattress, even in winter. They weren't allowed to go anywhere with friends, or to have friends over. Any excessive noise or mess was met with swift, harsh punishment. They had even been banned from visiting their mother's and grandmother's graves.
"Ugh, I can't stand this!" Michael glared at the stark ceiling. It was their mandatory nap hour, the house as quiet as an empty church. His rock star bedroom had been gutted, his posters thrown out, his CDs and drum kit sold, the red walls painted a cold, sterile white. Lena's Bratz room and the triplets' outer space room had gotten the same treatment, their handmade furniture replaced with bland, uniform white sets. "Why can't Dad see what she's doing?"
Sitting on the floor across from him, Lena tugged at her tight, lacy collar, scratching at the growing rash on her neck for the hundredth time. She'd been sensitive to it all her life, but Kara didn't care. She also hated dresses and skirts, the rules stating they were all she and Brianna could wear.
"I don't think he notices," she said quietly. Their father had transferred to a job that required year-round travel, and if he did have any concerns about what Kara was doing, he didn't voice them. Michael growled, wishing he could punch something.
"This is such bullcrap," he sat up and yanked off his polo, not caring when his glasses came off with it, and threw it on the floor. Like his siblings, his skin had gone pale, pocked with scars, his thin stomach covered by a nasty, dark violet bruise. The remnants of the latest beating he'd taken for Kyle. "As if uniforms at school weren't bad enough!"
Most of their clothing had been sold or donated, their closets filled with khakis and polos or puffy sleeves and plaid gingham skirts. Their shoes had been swapped out for plain brown loafers and shiny black Mary Janes; no shorts or sandals were allowed, even during the humid Michigan summer.
"You think we should tell someone?" Lena asked. He sighed.
"I try that at school every day," he scratched his head. He and their brothers had been forced to get military fades, she and Brianna pixie cuts. "No one listens to me."
Lena brought her knees to her chest, picking at a loose piece of the thin, spotless white carpet. Her dull eyes trailed across her short nails, filed round and painted white as always. On a good day, a mistake would net the girls sore tails and a hungry night, but a bad one? It was a hungry night in the crawlspace under the back porch, then a morning beating for tracking dirt and mud into the house.
"You think they'll ever find who killed Mom?"
He scoffed. The cops sure weren't trying too hard.
"You and I both know who was behind that," he threw himself back on his pillow, though it barely counted as one. He was surprised Kara let them have pillows at all. She sniffled, blinking away tears.
"It's not fair," she murmured, resting her forehead on her knees. "She does whatever she wants to us, and no one even tries to stop her!"
He sat up, his fists tightening on his thin sheet. They didn't get blankets until December.
"She won't get away with it forever, sis," he wasn't sure he believed it himself. "I can promise you that."
She started to speak, then her mouth snapped shut when they heard Kara on the stairs. Lena shot to her feet and went to the door, pausing with her hand clenched on the polished brass knob. She glanced back at him, flashing what had become her usual small, bitter smile.
"As long as you don't keep promises the way Dad does."
She slipped out, closing the door silently behind her. He hoped she'd make it back to her room before Kara caught her.
"Lena Amber Sione!"
Oh, no…
<<<>>>
May 2010
"What do you mean, you're moving?" Lena didn't want to believe what she had just heard. Ty was a year older, her best friend since she'd started at their daycare. He ran a hand through his short, wavy dark hair, his big brown eyes full of disappointment and annoyance.
"It's not like I want to," he said, scratching at his collar before loosening his tie. It was the last month of eighth grade, his last three weeks of strict private school rules and uncomfortable uniforms. "But my parents just can't live here anymore."
She didn't have to ask why, she'd relived his older brother's death in too many bad dreams. His family had emigrated from Guatemala when Ty was two, his parents taking over management of the city's most popular skating rink.
"It won't be until summer," he added quickly. "So we still have a month to hang out."
She shook her head.
"That doesn't help," she snapped, her voice breaking. "First Miranda leaves, and now you! Everyone I know is abandoning me!"
He cringed. Lena's life had been hell since her mother died, and that was before their few other friends had pulled away from her. Miranda had been born blind in one eye and had been transferred to a special school across town. The fact her parents had loved calling Lena a bad influence had just made the blow worse.
"I-I could email you," he suggested desperately. "Or send you postcards or something!"
She just shook her head again.
"I'm barely allowed to use the computers here," she said. "And Kara reads everything we get in the mail, then shreds anything that's not for her or my dad."
"Couldn't you just use the computer when she's not home," he asked. "Or get the mail before she does?"
She sighed.
"She changes the password every day, and this is what I got when I tried to grab Michael's birthday card from Aunt Ashley," she showed him the scratches on her cheek and neck, the surrounding skin tainted with a half-healed bruise. She'd told anyone who'd asked it had been an angry cat. "This isn't even close to the worst thing she's done."
He shuffled his feet, then knelt down, tugging off his backpack and unzipping the largest pocket.
"This is where we're moving," he pulled out a slightly wrinkled pamphlet and handed it to her. The front was midnight blue and deep purple, 'The Beauty of Blackwood Cove' arching in elegant white script across the top, the picture beneath a peaceful lakeside scene at sunset. "Put it where your dad can see it, maybe it'll give him ideas."
She stared at it, her fingers tightening on the edge as her eyes filled with tears. She threw it at him, then turned and ran down the hall. He sighed and picked it up, watching until she disappeared around the corner. He smoothed it out and stuck it back in the pocket, his own eyes starting to sting.
"Bye, Lena…"
<<<>>>
March 2012
Lena touched her forehead. Why did it feel like she was made of lead, and why was she so exhausted? She blinked as the steady beep of the heart monitor slowly registered, her eyes widening when she saw the gray pulse cuff on her finger. She followed the thin, clear tube in her arm, connected to a bag of saline hung on a metal stand. The white tile floor looked cold and sterile in the overhead lights, a contrast to the inviting mint green walls, hung with generic flower paintings in plain wooden frames.
"You're finally awake," someone said, sounding endlessly relieved. "They said it should have happened a week ago…"
Lena ducked back when she noticed Miranda, smiling softly at her from a plain chair pulled close to the bed. She thought she saw something else behind that smile, but she was too dizzy to tell for sure.
"W-What do you mean?" her throat was so dry. She tried to push herself upright, wondering how she'd gotten so weak. "What am I doing here?"
Miranda's fading smile fell away, and she went to a small table by the far wall, filling a plastic cup from a matching pink pitcher.
"They said you wouldn't remember anything," she came back and sat down, tapping a button on the floor that propped up the bed. She let out a breath. "I wish I didn't have to tell you any of this…"
Lena took the cup and sipped on it, waiting for her head to stop spinning.
"The last thing I remember is coming back from shopping," she said, the fear plain in her voice. "How did I get here? What happened?"
Miranda hesitated, then swallowed hard.
"There's no way to sugarcoat something like this," she said. "S-So I'll just say it; your family's gone, Lena."
Lena froze, staring blankly at her.
"W-What?" she shook her head. "N-No…no, that can't be!"
Miranda stared sullenly back at her; no smirk to show it was just another of her bad jokes, no sign that her father or siblings had ever been there. She didn't fight the tears, letting them run freely down her cheeks. Some of the last people who truly cared for her, gone, just like that.
"I-I'm sorry, Lena," Miranda's voice broke, and she hugged her tightly. "I'm so sorry!"
It wasn't until later that Lena learned she'd spent three months in a coma, fighting a slow poison that had no known effective treatment; no doctor had thought she'd survive, at least without serious side effects. It took weeks to remember what had happened, and she wondered how she had never suspected anything.
Kyle's, Zach's and Brianna's tenth birthday had been a few days away, and Kara had surprised them by planning a party, the first for any of them since she'd moved in. She'd ordered Michael to keep the triplets busy while she and Lena went for supplies, insisting they try the new diner on Main Street when they finished.
The headache had come first, and by the time they'd gotten home, Lena had barely been conscious. She couldn't catch her breath, and her uneven heartbeat had echoed in her ears. She vaguely remembered Kara saying she'd send Michael out to help, since he'd been coming up on his first year in a junior nursing program.
Then she was being dragged, hearing what she'd thought had been distant explosions. The first officer who'd spoken with her at the hospital had said the house had burst into flames when it started raining, and there'd been a trail of olive oil from the car to the front door. Whoever had planned the attack, they'd meant for her to die as well.
But there was only one thing she'd really wanted to know, the one thing no one had been willing to tell her. It had been weeks before she'd found an article about the fire, when she'd learned her family hadn't burned to death like she had thought. Her father, having finished his last business trip early, had been lying in the doorway between the garage and kitchen, Michael and the triplets huddled on the couch in the living room. All five had been shot in the head, but the only gun on the scene had been locked in the safe in her father's office, and the only fingerprints on it had been his. Kara had been found unconscious in the daffodils, bleeding heavily from a nasty cut on the side of her head. She'd claimed to have been knocked out when checking the gate in their back fence and devastated when she'd found out what had happened.
That hadn't stopped her from claiming the life insurance as soon as she could, and Lena never got the chance to say a final goodbye to her family's graves.
<<<>>>
October 2013
"I didn't see Kara until I was done with rehab," Lena finished, hugging herself tightly. "She came in my room after I was cleared to go home and said we were moving, smiling like nothing had ever happened."
She leaned back, staring at the gap between them. The faded slats of wood were carved with initials and small pictures, a record of all the people who'd sat there before her. It was the first time she'd told the whole story, and it surprised her how light she felt, like half the world had fallen from her shoulders. Jason was silent beside her, his jaw slack as he tried to process it all.
"I-I've never heard anything like that," he finally managed, looking up at her. "And they still haven't found out who did it?"
She shook her head.
"I know exactly who did it," she said bitterly. "But as far as the cops are concerned, it's a cold case."
He blinked.
"Do they at least have an idea why it happened?"
She shrugged, her fingers tightening on her arm.
"Probably money—I never knew what my dad did," she continued. "But he made a hell of a lot doing it. The only reason we stayed in that house is because it was in the best school district in the state."
The silence stretched on afterward. She bent down and picked up a twig, twirled it in her fingers, then tapped a short rhythm on her thigh.
"Michael wanted to be in a band, too," she said absently. "He tried teaching all of us to play the drums, but I was the only one old enough to want to make more than noise."
He chuckled; she glimpsed dark blue braces and moderately crooked, movie star white teeth.
"Sounds like he was a great guy."
"He was," she peeked at him through her bangs, hoping he didn't notice the faint blush on her cheeks. "It's funny, you're a lot like him."
His smile faded.
"Heh, yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost pensive. "Uh, hey, listen, I-I was wondering if you wanted to, uh—"
They jumped when her phone went off; she snatched it from her pocket and put it on vibrate.
"Oh, crap, I have to go," she got up, smiling warmly at him. "And thanks for listening to all that, Jason, really."
"O-Oh, yeah," he brought his hand back to his side. "Yeah, sure."
She hurried off, hating that her heart was beating so fast. It had only happened once before and had ended horribly for everyone involved.
I can't let that happen again, she thought, barely remembering to head back inside to stop by her locker. The only thing Kara hated more than her being late was her forgetting anything at school. She nodded resolutely to herself. So I'll just have to make sure it doesn't.