CHAPTER Nine
As Mattie strips off her jeans and pink top and shimmies into her pajamas, I run a brush through my hair. My weariness comes on all at once. First the thing with Rollins, and then an aunt who I’ve never met before showing up on our doorstep. Yawning, I change into an oversized Radiohead T-shirt.
Mattie slips under the covers, her cheeks glowing. “Isn’t she beautiful?” she asks as I lie down next to her.
I punch my pillow. “Yeah. She looks just like Mom.”
Mattie is quiet then for a moment, just staring up at the ceiling. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her like this. Peaceful. Hopeful, even. Finally, she flips over and props her chin up with the palm of her hand. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Even though I want badly to just turn over and go to sleep, I force a smile. “Sure. What’s up?”
“There’s this guy . . .” Mattie says softly, her eyes bright.
“Yeah . . . ?” I prompt, my faux smile turning genuine. In this moment, she reminds me so much of the old Mattie, the outgoing one with a million friends and a different crush every week.
Her face reddens slightly. “Russ White.”
I cover my mouth, trying to hide my amusement. “Really.” Russ White is a tall, good-looking senior with glasses. The reason I’m so surprised is that he’s not Mattie’s type. He’s not popular in the usual way—he’s not athletic or party-obsessed. He’s actually my age, but he’s so smart he skipped a grade in elementary school. Known for being kind to everyone, he has an infectious smile and a great sense of humor. Everyone likes him, but I’ve never known him to have a girlfriend.
My sister rolls onto her back. “Of course. He’s hot.”
I cock my head to the side. It’s true. He is hot, in a studious sort of way.
Mattie kicks one of her legs up in the air and examines her pedicure. She starts to ramble, explaining the story of how she met Russ.
“I was in the library trying to check out a book for my history project, but Mrs. Nelson was saying I owed a fine for some vampire book I checked out at the beginning of the year. I told her I paid it already, but she wouldn’t believe me. Russ must have overheard us because he came over and paid Mrs. Nelson. After I checked out the book, he introduced himself to me. And he asked me to go to a movie with him! Do you think Dad will let me go? I know he’s a senior, but . . .”
“Yeah, he’s a senior, but he’s my age. It’s not that weird. You guys are only two years apart. How about this? Rollins and I will go with you. Maybe we can see the new Scar film.” The words are out of my mouth before I remember the weirdness between Rollins and me. Will the embarrassment of tonight fade before next weekend? I hope so.
Mattie throws her arms around me. “Really? That would be great.” After a beat, she pulls away and rolls over, facing the wall. “Night,” she says.
“Night,” I tell her, reaching to turn out the lamp on my bedside table. As I drift off, I think to myself how nice it is that Mattie’s able to confide in me about these sorts of things. Six months ago, we never talked like this. I feel a kinship with her that I’ve never felt before. I wonder if, sometime soon, I might be able to tell her my biggest secret.
A loud clattering wakes me.
The noise is coming from downstairs.
Mattie is still fast asleep, so I gently push back the covers and swing my feet onto the floor. The carpet mutes my footsteps as I cross the room. In the hallway, I see that the door to Mattie’s room is closed, but my father’s door is standing wide open. I peek inside, but the bed is empty.
Another crash startles me.
It seems to be coming from the living room.
I tiptoe down the stairs.
My hands are shaking, my heart ricocheting off my rib cage. What if there’s an intruder? What if my father is fighting with him? I look around for some sort of weapon, but there’s nothing.
When I reach the landing, I peek around the corner. My father stands with his back to me. He seems to be going through the pictures on the bookshelf, grabbing one after another and throwing them to the floor. There’s a pile of broken glass at his feet.
He grabs a wedding portrait and flings it down. Jagged pieces bounce off the carpet and land near my feet.
“Dad?”
He freezes. Turns slowly in my direction.
“Dad? What are you doing?”
He takes a few dazed steps toward me. The look in his eyes is strange, as if he’s not aware of his actions, as if he’s not even there. It reminds me of that day in English class, when I seemed to lose control of my body. It was like I was there, but not really. Like someone else had taken my place.
“Dad?”
The cloudy expression clears, and he shakes his head. He makes eye contact with me and seems to recognize my face. “Vee? What the hell? What’s going on?” Bewildered, he looks at the mess on the floor.
“Um. You were throwing pictures on the floor. Don’t you remember?”
I can tell from the look on his face that he doesn’t. At all. Suddenly I think I might know who’s behind his strange behavior and my car accident.
Someone is sliding into us.
Someone who just happened to show up for the first time in years.
“Everything okay in here?”
I turn to find Aunt Lydia standing in the doorway, tying the sash on my father’s robe, concern etched into her features.