LEFTOVER
GIRL
By
C.C. Bolick
LEFTOVER GIRL
Copyright © 2016 by C.C. Bolick
Dirt Road Books
All Rights Reserved
ISBN 978-1-946-08900-7
Cover Design by EbookEditingPro
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Table of Contents
Another Move
The Dare
Chase
Phone Disaster
The Fun Connection
Secrets Online
Date Night
The Game
The Wreck
Pain in Doses
Powers
Making Up
Future Told
Homecoming
Lauren
Secrets Revealed
Alone
Acknowledgements
About The Author
For Moses and Bucky
No one knows the reasons, but I have faith we’ll meet again
Another Move
“Twenty minutes,” Dad said from the doorway. “Pack whatever will fit.”
I stared at the art table. Twenty minutes was an eternity when my whole wardrobe consisted of a single drawer and a dozen or so hangers. Besides, the cat needed more shadow beneath his ears. Charcoal that bled to my hands formed the sharp V above his eyes and the fierce twist of a bobbed tail, courtesy of a dog three trailers down.
A door slammed and I closed the book. Probably better to pack before the boys busted in.
I pulled two suitcases from under the bed, a roller covered with glow stars that no longer lit at night, and a striped bag handed down from Mom. Since the bag was still packed, I only opened the roller. As I stood to grab the entirety of my wardrobe, Danny charged through the door with Collin close behind.
“Why are we leaving this time?” Danny asked.
Stupid question, I thought, as he crossed his arms. I didn’t bother stripping the hangers of the shirts or the jeans, frayed at both ankles, or even the green velvet dress with tags still attached, just dropped the bundle in the roller suitcase. Balling the clothes into an even mass, I forged a safe home for the art pad and tugged on the zipper. A tag from the dress caught in the metal teeth, blocking my path until I swore and ripped it free. Who cared that the dress had come from an expensive mall store and not the Goodwill?
“We’re wasting time,” Collin said, dragging Danny toward the closet we shared. “At least Dad gave us more time than the night we came to Atlanta.”
“But I wanted to start fifth grade at the same school,” Danny said. “What will Tommy say?” His face twisted, somewhere between gloom and acceptance. “He’ll never know, will he?”
Drawing the roller up, I climbed to my feet and aimed for the door. “We’ve been through this a million times. Once we go, we’re gone.”
“It’s not fair,” Collin said, glaring at me. “Normal people don’t live like this. You know that, don’t you Jes?”
As much as I wanted to scream at them for ratting me out over the pictures, part of me almost wanted to stretch an arm around each of the twins and assure them this move would be different. I hated that part of me; what I needed most was a heart of stone. What about the friends I’d never see again or the stray cat that climbed through the window most nights? Instead, I grabbed my bags and pillow, and headed for the door.
The air outside was dark and about as tight as an oven might feel. I lifted the only proof of my existence and threw the bags into the back of the van. Maybe Dad would commend me for being first this time. I turned, the trailer looming before me, each light disappearing as if Mom had blown out a series of candles. Fifteen for the birthday party I never had this year. The odds of a sixteenth seemed even less. Mom and Dad were dragging their roller bags through the door, calling to the twins, pulling out keys to bring an end.
I smiled and climbed into the van. Time to forget Atlanta and everyone I would never see again. Even Courtney, the girl who insisted failing second year algebra or quitting the honor society would be a mistake, was lost forever. The tinted windows brought another layer of darkness into the van, if that was even possible. Everyone piled in, yet no one said a word.
Dad cranked the van and drove until only a few eighteen-wheelers danced around us throughout the six lanes, each fading to a square of red dots along the highway ahead. I propped my pillow against the window as one of the twins snored from the backseat. Mom poured coffee for her and Dad from a thermos, an aroma that left me torn between late nights on the road and perfect mornings afterward.
He managed a small laugh, voice strained. “Atlanta wasn’t a total waste. The doctors at Emory were great, and the kids finished nearly a whole year at one school.”
I’d heard it all before. Every city had a good and bad side, even though the fear that brought us to Atlanta had not faded from my mind. Next would come the speech about how he’d find another job that better suited his skill set, he was thankful Mom worked all those extra hours at the Waffle House, and of course their kids were healthy. Lucky us, but he never said what he was really thinking.
Someone had found out about me.
* * * * *
The van was deathly still when I opened my eyes, the only light a burning halo beyond the windshield. I began to recognize the outline of Aunt Charlie’s house. “How long did we drive?”
“Hush,” Mom said, “don’t wake the boys.”
Sweat formed a river down the side of my face, soaking into the pillow. I straightened, peering at the cookie-cutter houses now visible from either side of the van, each aglow with their own little dot of light.
“About two hours,” Dad whispered.
“Why did we stop so soon?” I asked, wrinkling my nose. Had the boys taken off their shoes?
Mom turned and patted my hand. “We’re in Credence.”
Any other hick town with a name I’d never heard of and I’d be snoozing again, but not Credence. Not the town where Mom grew up, the place no other city in the world could measure up to. “We haven’t stopped in Credence in three years and that was only for Christmas.”
“There’s a job here,” Dad said. “Mom can finally go back to teaching.”
I thought of Mom waiting tables, of how she’d talk about teaching while counting a stack of bills from the night before. Her eyes always lit up when she remembered working with kids, as a math teacher and then a social worker.
“It’s been a long time,” Mom said, her voice a mixture of exhaustion and weary hope.
“We’ll be living with Aunt Charlie?”
“No, honey,” Mom said, “the house next door is empty, has been since May. It was perfect timing since we needed…a new home.”
Yeah, our typical perfect timing. “How long will we be staying this time?”
Dad groaned. “Hopefully longer than Atlanta.”
I sucked in a breath, feeling the old guilt pressing closer.
“You’ll have your own room this time,” Mom said. “You won’t have to share with the boys. This is a real house, not a two-bedroom trailer like our last place.”
“Everyone I knew in Atlanta lived in a trailer,” I said.
“Jes,” Mom said with a laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with living in a trailer. We’ve lived in several, even that pop-up Dad pulled behind the old Ford. I’m just saying give this house a chance. More room, more possibilities.”
“I’ve got two bags. The last thing I need is more room.”
“We’ll get you more stuff,” Dad said. “We’ll stay with Lorraine’s sister for a few days while we get some furniture. S
chool here starts tomorrow, but maybe by the weekend you’ll have a new bed.”
I thought about all the girls from ninth grade who’d said hey to me at the park less than twenty-four hours before, of how careful I’d been to hide the truth about my past. I never Googled my real name at the library or said a word about what happened in New York. Who had figured it out? Who had scared Dad into packing us up yet again?
* * * * *
Like her sister, Aunt Charlie had managed to find a way to order everything from the stepping-stones, which led us through a virtually flat lawn, to her museum of a living room. No doubt her signature hugs had their own perfect rhythm. First, she sealed me within her arms, then she tightened her grip as if I might flee, and finally she giggled and let out a sigh. This she repeated until I pulled back and inched closer to Mom.
“You do remember Bailey and Pade?” she asked after Dad cleared his throat.
“They were here that last Christmas,” I said.
“Charlene,” Mom said, her voice rising. “It’s only been three years. Jes doesn’t have a memory problem anymore.”
Great, it was starting already. “Unless you ask me about something that happened before the night I met Mom.” I winced as Mom put an arm around me. “Don’t we have this discussion every time we visit?” I pulled away, shaking my head. “And you guys worry about me not remembering.”
“I’m sorry,” Aunt Charlie said as red crept into her face.
It’s your fault, the voice inside reminded. The moves, the secrecy—it was all about a time I couldn’t remember. Maybe I really was crazy and someone would finally speak up to confirm my suspicions.
Dad cleared his throat again. “Where are the kids?”
“Pade’s playing some kind of video game and Bailey is probably on the phone.”
“The sun is barely up,” Dad said, glancing at his watch.
Aunt Charlie grinned. “Come on, Justin, think like all you have to worry about in the world is what’s for dinner and what trouble you can find for Friday night. It’s not early, it’s late. Go on upstairs, Jes. Bailey’s room is second door to the…oh, sorry. I’m sure you remember the way.”
Mom managed to shift the conversation away from me as I climbed the steps and took a right. I tiptoed past the first doorway, but stopped when I heard voices. Easing closer, I slid the door open.
Pade leaned back in a desk chair, eyes closed. Bailey lay across the bed with a phone in her hand.
“You never take sides,” Pade said. “Why now?”
“It’s not fair how Tosh and Lisa treat people,” she said, without looking up. “If Sarah Beth’s good with that don’t expect me to just hang out and play nice.”
“Yeah, my sister finally takes a stand and it’s against my girlfriend. Way to stab me in the back.”
Bailey tossed her hair, a thick mass of midnight falling halfway down her back. “Angel and Rachelle are my best friends.”
“Tosh promised not to mess with Angel or Rachelle.”
“When you’re around. What do you think happens when you’re not?”
Pade sighed. “Part of staying popular is keeping good with everyone.”
“Angel and Rachelle don’t care about being popular. Why should I? You’re the one who does the football thing. Class president, honor society, you can have them all.”
“Angel and Rachelle don’t care because they could never be popular.”
Bailey lowered the phone. “I thought you liked my friends.”
“I do,” Pade said. “But they are a little weird, come on admit it. You wouldn’t think—,” he started as his eyes opened and landed on me.
Intense dark eyes took in the length of my body, eyes the same shade of midnight that curled around his ears in a childish way, much too short for my tastes. Stopping on my face, his eyes took on a look of irritation. ‘How dare you sneak up on us,’ he seemed to say, without an ounce of remorse.
“Hey,” Bailey said as her feet hit the floor. “How long have you been standing there?”
Pade pushed the chair back in a guarded motion. “Glad you’re back, short shit.”
“Why?” I asked.
He laughed, not taking his eyes off me. “I called you that before, remember?”
“There’s nothing wrong with my memory.” I steadied my tone. “Why are you glad to see me?”
Pade stopped laughing and looked to Bailey, then back to me. “You’re serious.” His eyes narrowed. “Jessica Delaney, you’ve turned into quite the bitch.”
Bailey stepped to my side. “Leave her alone. She doesn’t understand your jokes yet. Jes needs time to get to know everyone here.”
He shook his head. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re not bringing her to the party. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“It’s the best idea,” Bailey said. “Angel and Rachelle, Terrance, Skip—they’ll go easy on her. Better for Jes to meet them before someone like Tosh or Lisa. Hey, I bet Mom would let you drive the car.”
Pade shook his head again. “I’m not babysitting. It’s Angel’s birthday and I promised her, you know, that me and Terrance would bring the drinks.”
Drinks? I smiled, already hearing Dad rant. “When do we leave?”
* * * * *
Pade stared ahead as the orange Mazda bounced, intent on tracing two cuts of dirt that seemed to guide us around the deepest pits. Pine trees lined both sides of the road, stretching in infinite rows like the corn fields had in Nebraska. Nearing the last turn, the trees opened to a ‘Y’ with rows of trailers in either direction, some deserted. Almost all brandished a fence with ‘beware of dog’ posted on the gate. Half included rusty cars on cement blocks, in stark contrast to the occasional medley of azaleas and brightly painted garden gnomes. One even had black trash bags over every window, reminding me of a haunted house.
After every major bump, Pade’s eyes found me in the mirror and I looked away. Bailey stared out her window, maybe beyond the trailers, quiet for the first time that day. The music blared, with a screeching guitar and pounding drums, as the silence became more than I could bear. Did Pade listen to heavy metal like this all the time?
As if Pade heard my thoughts, he pressed buttons until sounds of country filled the car.
“We’re almost there,” Bailey said. “Don’t let all these trailers scare you.”
I laughed, though she probably couldn’t hear. “We lived in a trailer park in Atlanta.”
“Oh.” Eyes still fixed outside, she allowed the second half of the song to pass in silence, making me feel like the worst friend ever. Then she turned and smiled. “Bet you didn’t have an ex-military bus driver, a voodoo shack, or a pot farm—see that long driveway? Angel says no one goes there after dark.”
“It will be fun,” she said. “You’ll really like Angel—she always tells the craziest stories. Your life will seem boring after an hour of hearing about hers.”
“Not likely,” I said, turning to my window. Couldn’t the day go any faster?
Pade’s eyes found me and I shivered, convinced that any moment my breathing would form a cloud of white. Bailey once again faced the trailers.
The trees thinned behind the trailers, leaving a vast opening just beyond the turn. Sunshine and wispy clouds filled the opening as faraway trees became apparent. We climbed the last little hill at the turn, rising above my first view of sparkling waves.
Pade slammed on the brakes and spun to face me.
“What the hell,” Bailey screamed.
“Angel lives on the river,” he said. “Just moved here a week ago.”
“So?” I asked.
He silenced the radio with one twist. “Mom says you’re afraid of water.”
“Pade,” Bailey said and slapped his arm. “Now you’re really being mean.”
“I want to know,” he said, not taking his eyes off me. “Tell me that you’re shaking and just can’t find the words. Show me you want to turn back.”
“I. Am. Not. Afraid,” I said.
“How’s that for shaking?”
“Keep driving,” Bailey said. “It isn’t her fault.”
I rolled my window down, almost welcoming the haze of dust and the smell of the river ahead, along with the need to gag. Everything was my fault. “What did I do?”
“Damn it,” Pade said, hammering his palms against the steering wheel.
Grasping for the handle, I pulled until the door clicked but stopped. Anyone else and I would have gladly stalked right back up that road of endless pits and found my own way home. It wouldn’t be the first time, or the last, but this was family. Credence had to be different. I shuddered, for one day they’d know the truth if Mom and Dad didn’t whisk me away one night while they dreamed.
Bailey turned around again. “We didn’t know how you’d react to the water.”
“Remember the pool in our backyard?” Pade asked. “Mom had it covered over a month ago, because you were afraid of water.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I’m sorry.” But a month, that meant Dad had actually planned this move…
“Pade’s angry because we always had pool parties. But it’s okay,” Bailey added, her own voice misty. “Mom said you were scared of water and we don’t want to give you a reason to leave.”
“Speak for yourself,” Pade said, but his words had softened.
Somehow, I managed to roll the window back up without breaking into a full-blown fit of tears. “My parents say I was petrified, but I don’t remember anything from before my adoption. If they know, they’re not saying. We’ve never had a pool and we’ve definitely never lived near water. My dad would probably have the van floored right now if he knew about this place.”
Bailey smiled. “Good thing we haven’t told Mom. She still thinks Angel lives at the apartment.”
I laughed despite the punch to my stomach. “It all sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”
“Well, Sis,” Pade said and eased onto the gas, “sounds like she’ll fit right in with your crew.”
Leftover Girl Page 1