chuckled. “Hey, you have no idea. Do you remember when we used to go to the movies, or the beach?” Like normal kids. It had been such a beautiful little escape, going out on these little excursions that got us out of the house and surrounded by people, as though it was a natural, regular thing to do.
Lucy’s smile’s broadened. “Oh, my God, I had the biggest crush on you.” Lucy giggled, a sound that so successfully melded self-deprecation and coquettishness that even I was impressed. Only Lucy had the courage to admit to something so deeply personal without embarrassment.
“What?” Caleb wrinkled his face in amused disbelief. “You had a crush on me?”
How could he not know that? How could he not see what a fantastic guy he was, how special? How I had trotted around after him, stars in my eyes.
“Of course, but I thought I was too young for you,” Lucy joked. I didn’t think that, but I told myself that’s the reason Sarah caught his attention, and not me. It made his oblivious rejection just a tinge more bearable. “I always hoped you and Sarah would marry actually.” I looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes, to catch his reaction. Did he still love my sister? Did he still pine for her?
Lucy kept the smile on my face, but it was hard, admitting that, thinking about that. Alice had been in prison, Frankie was dead and Caleb and Sarah were the only people I could really connect with—and they’d only had eyes for each other. We would go out to watch the latest movie at the local cinema, and I’d talk about the movie, but then catch them staring at each other, as though a wealth of meaning was being exchanged right under my nose, and I was clueless to it. Excluded. More and more, I began to feel like the third wheel, the hanger-on, the one who had to be tolerated when they’d actually prefer to be alone with each other. The one who didn’t matter. Fortunately, Lucy was there to make me feel less lonely.
Damn straight.
Shut up. You hid Frankie from me.
For your own good, Maisey.
I still couldn’t believe it. How could I hide something like this from me?
I’d so wanted to talk to my sister about what had happened to Frankie—and the fact that Alice was put away for it. God, there was so much confusion, so much guilt, and nowhere and nobody to talk to about it, to unload...to just unpack it and sort it out and make some sense from it. Lucy tried to, admittedly, but it always felt disjointed, like building a jigsaw puzzle only to find you were missing some critical pieces that would help form the full picture. Every time I tried to snatch a moment with Sarah to talk about it, she’d shut me down. “Put it behind you.” “Put it in the past.” “For God’s sake, don’t worry about it, Maisey, and just have fun.”
I used to wonder what was wrong with me; if Sarah could do it so easily, why couldn’t I? It was easier when we were all together, and we had something to do, but when Sarah and Caleb went off together and I was alone, well, that was the hardest time. Being alone with my thoughts and nothing to distract me. My conscience was a bitch to me, and it was difficult to hide from the self-righteous whinger. I couldn’t even talk to Alice. Peter rarely organized a prison visit. I didn’t have my mom around. I certainly wasn’t the apple of Peter’s eye. I remember wishing that Alice could be like a normal mom. I used to fantasize about her holding her arms out to me, embracing me, hushing my tears and soothing my fears... Yet she was now unreachable. I remember wishing I could bring Frankie back, along with every torment that came with him, just so I could have my mom back, too.
“You wanted me and Sarah to get married? Oh, that would have been terrible.” Caleb laughed, and Lucy was grateful for the distraction he provided, and for the fact that he thought marrying my sister would have been terrible.
He waved his hand as he shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no. We were great together as kids, sure, but...” He pointed to the majestic residence that was now plainly visible against the lightening sky. “There is no way I could give her that.” Caleb shrugged. “That’s not my thing, you know? I want something...different. Something a little more genuine. A home, not a house. Friends, not guests.”
“Yeah, I get what you mean,” I said, feeling just the slightest bit naughty, as though it was a betrayal of my sister to talk like this behind her back—but it felt wonderful to find a sympathizer, a person with a similar view of the extreme, almost pretentious display of wealth we were now surrounded by. It was like peeking through a window with a friend and sharing a giggle at the ridiculous decor and lifestyle within. Conspirators sharing a secret, that’s what we were; and I didn’t realize how long I’d gone without that kind of connection.
No matter how brief or shallow it seemed, it was real enough for now.
Again, I’m right here.
Shut. Up.
“Oh, hey, do you remember that time Sarah and I snuck in to watch you in that school play?”
“Oh, God, do I ever,” I said, covering my face briefly to hide my embarrassment. Of course I remembered that play. Some well-meaning teacher had steamrolled me into it. It was my most awkward, painful stage. Alice was in prison, everyone knew what had happened to Frankie, that my mother was locked away for it. I became that freak, the one with a mom behind bars, the one whose brother had drowned in the backyard pool. At the time, I couldn’t really discuss it with anyone, and it was probably the one thing I wanted most to talk about, so wasn’t really interested in talking about anything else. Watching some TV program, or picking out the hottest jock on the field, all seemed kind of juvenile in comparison to the heavy crapstorm in my head. I became one of those loners in the cafeteria, head down, pushing around the apple wedge that was slowly turning brown... Thank God for Lucy. She kept me company.
It’s nice to be appreciated.
My teachers had begun to notice. They couldn’t really do anything, though. I mean, I spent most of my time studying, doing homework—my grades weren’t slipping, I wasn’t skipping homework. There was nothing to actually show that I had a problem. At least, that’s what Peter said at the teacher-parent interviews when the staff at the school raised it with him. As far as he was concerned, there was no problem.
“Mrs. Jeffries made me do it.” Lucy chuckled again.
“Uh-huh. Come on, I remember you used to be quite the little actress, always putting on these shows for Sarah and me...”
“That was just for you two. But Mrs. Jeffries twisted my arm.” At that point, it had sounded so tempting, especially when an adult was actually praising me and complimenting me about my acting. I found my own little escape in that play.
I walked on that stage, and suddenly I was someone else. I wasn’t Maisey, that girl whose mom was in prison. I was whatever I needed to be to make people laugh, or cry, cheer, gasp. In that first play I was Lucy from Peanuts, and being gently bullied into participating in that performance had been a blessing in disguise. We loved the experience so much, we decided to keep the name.
I had an opportunity to get out of my skin, but more than that, I was doing something separate from the family that went completely under my stepfather’s radar. Extra credit. Please. It had been so damn satisfying, so triumphant, to step into the spotlight, and the man who ruled my life was completely oblivious to it. Just like Sarah’s friendship with Caleb...it was our way to hold on to some power, to have some independence that Peter couldn’t strip from us because he had no idea we’d been so daring. He underestimated us, there.
“I still can’t believe Dad didn’t find out.” Caleb chuckled. “Do you remember that one night
