“Don’t let it bother you, baby. I’m fine.”
I grab her hand and press it against my cheek. “I love you, Mom. But . . . I can’t live with you if this is how it’s going to be.”
“So you’d leave me as well?”
“If that’ll make you see how serious your condition is, yes.”
For some reason, those words strike a nerve. Her lips pull tight. “You sound like your judgemental father.”
“Dad loves you, too. Really, Mom. We just want you to get better.”
She turns away. I’m losing her. “One week,” I suddenly say, grasping at straws. “That’s all I ask. Visit a rehab center for one week. If you think it’s useless after that time, we’ll come get you and figure something else out. Please?”
She scoffs. “One week, huh?”
“Yes. That’s how long I was homeless.”
Now she faces me, speaking with remorse. “I should have protected you. My poor baby.”
“Mom, you can’t prevent what you can’t predict. But you can do this for me. Please . . . it’s the only thing I want—for you to get better.”
She mulls it over before she sighs, rubbing her reddened eyes. “Fine. One week. That’s it. If that is what it takes for you to stay and see that I am okay, then fine.”
Hope roars into my heart. “That’s good, Mom! That’s really good. It won’t be easy, but I promise that Dad and I will be with you every step of the way.” I want to punch the air with excitement, but I have to stay calm. I don’t want to frighten her. I can see she’s really fragile. “You don’t know how proud I am of you for this. Dad and I can take you to a center tomorrow if you want,” I try, suddenly optimistic.
My mother turns her hand so it cups my cheek. Her beautiful eyes, rimmed with red from the booze, are drowning in sadness and regret. Finally, she nods and gives a little sniff. “Yes. Tomorrow.” She drops her hand. “You can tell your father, honey.”
Dad is down the hall in his large home office. When I arrive, he’s behind his mahogany desk. He has turned his chair so he’s looking out the window and into the Los Angeles night.
“Dad?”
He spins to face me. I’m startled to see he’s been crying. He tries to hide the fact, but I see the evidence in his puffy eyes.
“She says yes,” I tell him. I smile when his shoulders drop an inch, as if some heavy burden has been lifted off him. “I told her we’ll take her tomorrow. And she said she agreed.”
Smiling, he shakes his head. “You’re a wonder, Sia. Thank you.”
“Let's just hope she doesn't change her mind.” I hesitate before continuing. “Dad, there’s something else I want to talk about. I know you’re having trouble with the business. I want to help. But I need to understand what’s going on.”
He sits a little taller and smiles dismissively. “Don’t you worry about that, honey. That’s just boring business stuff.”
“Please, Dad. I told you: I can handle it. Who knows? Maybe I can find a way to help.”
He sounds hopeless. “I don’t think anyone can help us now, but if you insist. Business is bad, sweetheart. That’s the plain truth. We’re in way over our heads, and we can’t seem to catch a break.” He hesitates.
“Go on, Dad,” I say.
“We’re almost bankrupt,” he says quietly. “If we don’t find a way to turn things around, we’re going to lose our home and cars in two months. We’ll have to move outside of Beverly Hills, where the homes are cheaper. And we’ll get a much smaller house. I almost told Beatriz and John today, to give them notice that they’ll have to find other employment, but I just couldn’t. They’re like part of the family now. I . . . ” He drops his forehead into one hand. “It’s just so humiliating.” His eyes are glued to his desk. “I don’t know what we’re going to do,” he says softly. “How are we going to face our friends? No one will want to associate with us now. The Holloway name will be a joke.”
“Dad, none of that matters.”
He makes a choked sound. “Sure it does.”
“No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter what people say. And if your friends aren’t understanding when you’re going through hard times, then they weren’t real friends to begin with. So don’t be embarrassed. You’ve done everything you can.”
He leans back and raises his hands. “But the house. We could lose everything.”
“Not everything. We’d still have each other. If we have to downsize to a smaller house—or even an apartment—it’ll be fine. We can even take the bus, like normal people have to all the time.”
He grins wryly. “Sia Holloway on public transit? My, my, what will Amber and your other friends say?”
“I don’t care. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my life these days . . . and I’m not even sure she’s a part of it anymore.”
That’s a sobering thought for him. “Wow. That’s huge for you, honey.” He grins suddenly, letting me see how handsome he was before all the world’s troubles wore him down. “When that car hit you, you must have gotten one heck of a bump on your head.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. Maybe that explains everything.”
His smile fades, and I’m determined to do something useful, even if it’s only to help him feel better. “Dad, I’m serious. It doesn’t matter if we lose the house and cars and whatever else. We’ll still have each other. I love you and Mom. You’re all I really need.”
Dad frowns, studying me. “I don’t understand, Sia. I’ve never heard you talk like this.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “And I’m sorry for that.”
He stands. “Come here.” When we hug this time, he whispers into my ear. “You’re right, honey. We will have each other. And as for the rest . . . well, I guess we’ll cross those bridges when we get there. Together. As a family.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I sit up in bed and stare out at the sunrise. It’s kind of mind-boggling, thinking about everything that’s happened over the past few days. And I’m not even talking about living on the streets and getting hit by a car. In just one day, I learned my friends are vicious and fake, my boyfriend is a jerk, my mother’s an alcoholic, and the family is about to go bankrupt. A lot for a person to take in all at once, but it’s not like I can set any of it aside to think about later. This is my life, for better or worse.
Now that I’ve learned the bad things, though, I have a chance to fix what I can. Life seems determined to beat me back, but I vow to stay strong. For my family. And for myself.
After showering and finding an outfit I’m not completely embarrassed in, I head downstairs.
The dining room is quiet, so I head into the kitchen.
Beatriz is already there, cleaning and humming to herself.
“Good morning, Beatriz. Where is everyone?” I ask.
“Your father took your mother to the rehab center this morning.” Smiling, she hands me a glass of orange juice. “She’ll stay a few days, maybe longer.”
The juice is delicious. Fresh squeezed from California oranges.
“Miss Holloway—”
I hold up one hand. “Wait. Beatriz, do you think you could call me Sia instead of Miss Holloway?”
She frowns. “I’d have to ask your father.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ll tell him.” I wink, making Beatriz laugh. A covered basket of freshly baked muffins sits on the counter, so I grab one. “Sorry, you were saying?”
“Yes,” Beatriz says, her face relaxing into a warm smile. “I wanted to tell you, Sia, that I am really, really proud of you. I heard you say that same thing to your mother last night. I think that’s what really made her decide to do it. She needs someone to be proud of her.”
“Well, I am proud of her,” I say. “Going to rehab takes a lot of courage.”
Beatriz nods. “Yes, it does.”
“How did she look this morning?”
“Very good. Like she was almost looking forward to going. She threw away all the bottles this morning
. Your father looked better, too. He told me last night was his first good sleep in a long time. I knew that already because most nights, he’s up pacing in the living room, worrying. Not last night, though.”
I smile and nibble at the muffin. I’m glad I’ve helped my family in some way, and I have to wonder if I’ve ever felt this way before. Have I ever been kind to people before now? Have I ever considered others’ feelings over my own? The very idea of never having felt empathy toward anyone seems impossible. Yet that was the impression I got from my classmates. “Worse than Amber . . . ” they’d said.
I wonder if Amber has any idea how kids look at her. Even worse, does she care what they think? She acts as if she’s queen of the school, but everyone outside her little circle regards me, Amber, Stacy, and the others as nothing better than small-minded, selfish jerks. What if . . .
No. It’d be too hard.
But then again . . .
Can I possibly change what’s going on? Can I help my old friends gain some self-awareness? I know that’s quite a challenge, maybe even harder than getting my mother to attend rehab. Because not only are they so deeply entrenched in their way of living that they can’t see out, but none of them have been given the opportunity to step outside of their lives and evaluate themselves. Yes, I’m setting myself up with a big challenge.
Still, if I can change—and I’d been the worst of them all—anyone can change.
“How was school yesterday?” Beatriz asks, sitting beside me with a steaming mug of coffee. She grins wickedly. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you before you left on your little adventure with the cute motorcycle guy.”
I blush. “He is cute, isn’t he? I actually didn’t plan on seeing him, but it worked out well, I guess.” I sigh, losing my smile. “School didn’t go so well, though.”
Beatriz pats the back of my hand. The look in her deep brown eyes tells me I have a friend. A real friend. “Maybe today will be better, mija.”
“Maybe. But I’m worried about something else.”
“What’s that?”
“If we do lose everything, what will happen to you? Where will you go?”
“Oh, dear Sia. Don’t worry about me. Another job will come along. Think about yourself and your family right now.” She glances at the clock. “Time to go. I hope you have a better day today.”
“Thanks, Beatriz.” I hope so, too.
As the car pulls into a spot at school, Stacy comes tearing up to our door. Her tight expression shows concern.
Here we go. I bet a million bucks she’ll start with an “Oh my God!”
“Thanks for the ride, John,” I say.
“My pleasure,” he replies. “Have a great day.”
I smile, loving the way his attitude seems to have changed overnight. Maybe I’m achieving something positive after all. I grab my backpack and unlatch the door.
“Oh my God!” Stacy shrieks as soon as I’m out of the car.
I have to smile. So predictable.
She’s bouncing on her toes with excitement, her fists clenched under her chin. “Your mom called me last night. She was freaked. She called Amber and everyone! She thought you were, like, dead or something. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just went for a walk was all. I needed to clear my mind.”
“Oh, okay,” Stacy says, her expression lightening. Then it creases into a frown. “Hey, what’s with the no-makeup thing? Amber’s totally going to kill you if she sees you like that! Come on. I’ll set you up before she gets here.”
“Why would I want to kill her?”
Stacy pales slightly at the sound of Amber’s voice coming up from behind us.
“Sia, honey! So good to see you’re okay. Your mom sounded totally manic on the phone last night.”
I frown. Something about Amber’s tone makes me question her sincerity. She looks like a starlet right off a movie set. The length of her yellow leopard print skirt almost matches the height of her matching heels. Her black top flashes with rhinestones, and her long blonde hair shines in the sun. As usual, she’s flawless.
“Hey, Amber,” I say. “I’m fine. Thanks for worrying, but you didn’t need to.”
Amber freezes and stares at me, aghast. “Ugh. Her face, Stacy,” she says sharply. “Why haven’t you fixed it?”
“I was just about to. Really.”
“Fixed?” I demand. “I don’t need to be fixed! I’m not broken.”
Amber’s expression melts instantly, becoming sugary sweet with condescension. “Of course you do, honey. You look so . . . plain.”
“I like the way I look, Amber. If other people don’t, they can look the other way.”
Both girls gawk at me as if I just spoke in a different language.
Stacy covers her mouth. “Don’t say that!”
“Fine,” Amber snaps. “They can look at me then.”
The bell rings and we head inside. The school corridor is its usual mayhem, noisy with voices and locker doors. A couple of the teachers stand in the midst of it, bravely directing traffic.
I reach my locker and just start unlocking it when Kyle stops beside me. He’s dressed comfortably in faded jeans and a black t-shirt with a yellow Batman logo on it.
I smile broadly. “Hey.” It’s hard to describe just how good I feel, seeing him there. Yet I don’t miss the stunned expressions on Amber and Stacy’s faces, or how they spin toward each other to whisper something. In Amber’s world, Kyle is a loser, so I’m sure their words aren’t pleasant.
I turn my back to them.
“Hey,” he replies. He keeps his eyes purposefully away from the other girls. So he knows. What must that feel like, knowing people are looking down on you? Saying cruel things? He doesn’t deserve this.
But he doesn’t appear to care. He leans casually against the locker beside me. “Just thought I’d tell you I saw Carol this morning at the soup kitchen.”
I drop my lock and give him my full attention. “You did? Was she okay?”
He nods, grinning at my reaction. I can’t help thinking how much I like his smile. It’s warm and genuine and makes his grass-green eyes sparkle like emeralds. “Yeah. I told her hi for you. She said she can meet you at Elysian Park after school if you want to talk.”
“Awesome, Kyle! Thank you so much!” I throw my arms around his neck without thinking.
After only a slight hesitation, he hugs me back. I breathe in his delicious cinnamon scent, then let go reluctantly and back away. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have your sweater in my—”
Before I can finish, Duke charges in like a bull and slams Kyle into the lockers. “What do you think you’re doing, geek?” he roars. “You keep your floury hands off my girl, doughboy. She’s mine.”
Kyle pushes back, pressing his hands against Duke’s broad chest. “Get off me, Duke.”
But Duke isn’t finished. He jams his forearm against Kyle’s neck, suffocating him.
Kyle’s fingers clutch at Duke’s arm as he struggles to break free.
I shove at him. “Duke! Let go!” My shouts echo in the hallway, but even with all my strength, I can’t move him.
“Back off, Sia. I’ll take care of this twerp,” Duke snarls. “He needs to learn a lesson. Nobody touches my girl!”
“That’s right!” Stacy chimes in from behind them. “Sia belongs to Duke!”
I belong to Duke? The nerve of these people!
The two girls press against each other as they watch the action. Amber is smiling like a satisfied cat, obviously relishing the moment.
I’m so busy trying to rip Duke’s arm off Kyle's throat that I don’t hear Mr. Barrow coming up from behind us. “Duke, would you mind letting go of Kyle? We don’t condone murder in our hallways.”
Finally, Duke drops his arm, but his furious stare remains glued to Kyle’s face.
Kyle stares back, his eyes dark with hate and humiliation. He doesn’t bother swiping back the thick brown bangs that have fallen over his forehead during the struggle. “You have
nothing to worry about, Duke,” he chokes out. “I’d never go out with a girl like Sia anyway. She’s your type. Not mine.” With that, he walks away, rubbing his throat.
I watch his back as he is swallowed up by the crowds in the hall. The sea of backpacks and t-shirts blur as my eyes fill with tears. It shouldn’t hurt so much. I barely know him. And yet it does hurt. A lot. Like a fist squeezing my heart.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
This time it’s Duke who ends up with his back against the lockers. I push him there and glare up at his handsome face. “You’ve got it all wrong, Duke. I am not yours. Not now, not ever. I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Sia . . . ”
“I don’t want to hear it. We’re done.”
He frowns, then smiles and tries to grab for my waist. “Okay, baby. You’re just upset. We’ll just talk about this later.”
“No,” I say, stepping back. “You and me—it’s over.”
Duke’s jaw drops. “What? Why? Because of Kyle?”
“No. Because of me . . . and because of you! I’m sick of how you push people around.”
“What are you talking about, Sia?” he asks, looking confused. “You’ve never objected before. You used to laugh your head off before.”
“I don’t care what I did before. I don’t like it anymore. I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”
“Hey, now, there’s no need to go crazy here,” says Amber, coming up to join the conversation.
I look at her, not at all surprised that she’d barge into a private conversation. Then I stare incredulously at Stacy, who is actually crying.
“Oh, Sia,” Stacy wails. “You can’t break up with Duke. I mean, you two are the perfect couple. If you aren’t together, then, well, that means there’s just no such thing as love, ya know? Please, Sia—don’t break up!”
I shake my head at Stacy. “Calm down, Stacy. Besides, it has nothing to do with you. Duke and I are done. That’s all. It’s not the end of the world, so get over it.” I glare at the small crowd gathered around us. “Do you hear that, everybody? All of you can get over it!”
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