by Seven Steps
“You’re late.”
“Sorry. The train was running behind.”
“Well, try to keep it to a minimum, all right?” He turned and led me through the stables, familiarizing me with my new place of volunteer employment.
To my great disappointment, there weren’t any horses around. They must’ve all been out, servicing the paying public.
“And here is where you will be working,” he said, stopping in front of a row of filthy stalls.
“No,” I groaned.
“Yes. You will be mucking stalls.”
“Daddy, come on!”
“What? I thought you liked mucking stalls?”
He gave me a teasing grin that I did not return.
“Who wants to clean up horse poop?” I demanded.
He handed me a pair of gloves, some oversized, dirty pants and boots.
“Take solace in the fact that it could always be worse.”
“How could this get any worse?”
“You could be on fertility duty.”
He winked at me and walked away, leaving me to do the dirtiest job ever.
The stables were dirty. Like, never been cleaned dirty. Who had been doing it before and where were they now?
I sighed, sucking in a deep whiff of the stable through my nose. It was an earthy mixture of poop, hay and cooling metal. I hadn’t smelled the gross scent since I last visited my grandparents’ farm. It wasn’t something that I looked forward to.
After slipping on my oversized, dirty, mucking clothes, I pulled a wheelbarrow over, picked up a shovel and began to clear out the lumps of brown and green earth. It ran across my mind to keep some to deliver to Jake later but I decided against it.
Here I was, working in a horse stable and I couldn’t even ride a horse. I was left shoveling crap on top of crap.
I couldn’t help but think that this was symbolic of my life.
Just me, doing more crap to cover the crap that I’d already done.
I’d been shoveling, polishing and shining for only thirty minutes when Daddy reappeared, phone in hand. Anger was pulling down his features.
I knew that look. It meant that I was about to face hurricane Maurice. I tried to cut it off at the pass, pasting on my sweetest smile and leaning against my shovel.
“Is everything okay, Daddy?” I asked, batting my eyes.
“That was Jasmine.”
My heart thudded hard. Jasmine? Why would she be calling my father?
“Did something happen to her?” I asked. “Is everything okay?” I put down my shovel, ready to run to my phone and if need be, to Jasmine’s rescue when Daddy pinned me in place with a look.
“She told me all about the party.”
My heart dropped.
“She did?”
He nodded and crossed his arms across his chest. “I thought we had an agreement. You would break up with that Jake kid and stay out of trouble. Now you’re sneaking out at night, for the second time in less than two weeks mind you, to go party out at some mansion with this kid? Where is your head at, Bella? What are you thinking?”
I shifted my weight on my feet and looked down at the ground. I tried not to hate Jasmine, but in that moment, I did. How could she rat me out like this? I thought we were friends.
“It’s not even the sneaking out part that pisses me off. It’s the fact that you know who this kid is and what kind of life he leads and you’re still dating him. And then, you lied to me about it. You lied to me about everything!”
I squirmed, wanting to put my hands in my pocket, but they were still covered in stable muck.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s all you have to say? You’re sorry?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, guilt grinding my insides into powder.
“Bella, I asked you a direct question. I asked if you were still seeing him. You told me no. You lied to me. How am I supposed to trust you again when you are lying?”
“I thought it would help with the investigation,” I said. Not a full lie. A half-truth.
“You are not a police officer. You are not investigating anything!”
“I have to. People are suffering.”
“Then you let the cops do their jobs. I have half a mind to call that detective’s superior and tell him how inappropriate it is to have my sixteen-year-old daughter be a stool pigeon.”
“Daddy, please don’t. I need to do this.”
“Do what? Date this punk?”
“No. I need to do something good for once.”
He shook his head.
“Not like this. Not this dangerous!” He ran a hand over his face. “Home school. We are starting home school first thing Monday morning.”
I gasped. “Daddy, no!”
“Don’t ‘Daddy no’ me when you are throwing yourself in the line of fire!”
“Am I interrupting?”
Daddy and I turned our head at the same time. There, standing in the doorway, was Ms. Mitchell. My English teacher.
What was she doing here?
I took in her outfit. Jeans. A black coat with a fur hood. A plastic bag.
Red was rising in her cheeks and she looked embarrassed.
“Leah?”
Leah? My father knew her name? We hadn’t had parent teacher conference yet. How did he know her?
“I just came by to drop off some dinner,” she said, stepping in to the room.
Her warm eyes turned to me.
“Hello, Bella.”
I frowned. Something was going on here. Something that I couldn’t quite process.
She smiled at my father and that was when I knew.
The cologne. The shaving. The going out at night.
My dad had lied to me. He did have a girlfriend. That girlfriend was Ms. Mitchell.
All the blood drained from my face. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think. I had to get out of there. I had to get some air.
Without another word, I threw down my shovel, grabbed my purse and ran out of the stable.
59
I sat in my room, holding a framed picture of my mother.
She was beautiful. Perfect. How could my father do this to her? To me? To this family? How could he bring another woman here? How could he lie to me about it?
I heard the front door open and slam, followed by Daddy’s footsteps approaching my room. He flung the door open, flipped on the lights and stood, arms crossed in my doorway.
“What do you want?” I asked, my hands still gently caressing my mother’s picture.
“What you did at the stable was rude and completely unprofessional.”
“Unprofessional?” I demanded, my anger exploding. “You’re dating my teacher. I could have her fired!”
“You’re not going to do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re not dating. We are just friends.”
I rolled my eyes. “You looked mighty cozy to me.”
“Is this what I am going to have to deal with the rest of my life? Every time I am interested in a woman, the pictures come out and the guilt trips begin?”
“It’s better than pretending like you were never married.”
“I was. I was married to your mother for eighteen, wonderful years. Years that I treasure. But it’s been six years since Leslie died. Am I never allowed to date again?”
“No!”
He threw up his hands.
“You’re being unreasonable!”
“She was my mother!”
“She was my wife! I loved her, too.”
“I can tell.”
“What are you? Crazy? Do you think I’m just going out with some psycho stranger?”
“It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be going out at all. Mom just died. How are you over her?”
“I will never be over her!” His eyes turned glossy. “I will never be over Leslie but I was married for eighteen years. I’d like to be married again someday.”
“And so you’ve chosen my English t
eacher?”
“I didn’t know she was your English teacher until a few minutes ago when she told me after you jetted out like your tail was on fire.”
“Great. Now you know. Dump her.”
“I am not going to dump her. We’re not even dating.”
“Great. Then it will be easier.”
He groaned. “You are being ridiculous right now. I love you. I loved your mother when she was alive. I am not an evil person for seeing a woman occasionally.”
He said this last line more to himself than to me. I could tell by his tone that he’d said it before. How long had he been convincing himself that this was a good idea before he tumbled head first back in to the dating world?
Not long enough, apparently. And definitely not by informing his only daughter that he was going to be marching a caravan of women through my life from now on.
“We’ve had a very stressful day,” he said softly. “We’ve both said some things we didn’t mean.”
“I didn’t,” I muttered.
“And let’s not forget the original issue—that you snuck out of the house and lied about being with that Jake boy.”
“I guess it runs in the family.”
I saw the hurt in his eyes and ignored it, pulling my knees up to my chest and burying my head.
A moment later, Daddy closed the door.
I turned off my light, sitting in the darkness while Mojo nuzzled my feet.
How could Daddy date again? Didn’t he miss my mom?
I’d never thought about Daddy dating before today. Was it so bad that he dated again? Yes. Yes; it was. He was a widower. His wife had just died. He should be focused on dealing with his grief. Not with dating. That came later. Much, much later. And with my consent and approval. After all, I was his closest relative. I should have a say in who he dates. As his only daughter, it was up to me to make sure that the woman in question was right for him.
And that woman definitely was not Leah Mitchell.
I laid down and covered myself with the blankets, my mother’s picture still in my arms.
60
It was time to change my life.
I was going to start with my locker.
I woke up early and walked Mojo. He complained about the early wake up time with whines and barks. He got a few dog treats for his inconvenience, which seemed to be enough.
By seven o’clock, I was standing in the bushes that grew out of the front of my school, waiting for the graffiti artist to show themselves.
The old Bella had returned to St. Mary’s Academy complete with French braids, jeans and red sneakers. She would never leave again.
At exactly five after seven, a shadow walked along the sidewalk, arms stacked with white papers. Her long brown hair, perfectly cut, gave her away and I choked back the shocked gasp that threatened to spill out of me.
The defacer wasn’t Dana or Stephanie or Ursula.
It was Regina.
I watched in shock as she walked up the steps, through the unlocked doors and directly to my locker as if she had every right to be there. She dropped her armful of papers in a neat pile at her feet. I silently stood in the hallway, watching her tape the white background to the metal, then write in big red letters, LIAR.
By the time she had written the R, my anger could no longer be contained. I stepped forward, ready to do battle with this girl who was defacing my locker for no other reason than I was dating her brother against her wishes.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, coming close enough so that I was in punching distance from her.
She turned, saw me and let out a breath, as if I wasn’t a threat.
Little did she know, I was the biggest threat she would face today.
“Oh. It’s just you,” she said, placing a hand over her heart.
“Yes. It’s me. The girl whose locker you’re destroying.”
She shrugged as if it was no big deal, then held out her hands in front of her.
“I guess you caught me. I am the locker painter. Not that you’re going to do anything about it.”
“Why, Regina? What did I ever do to you?”
“To me? No. Not to me. You have been nothing but kind to me.” She gathered up the markers that were splayed around her feet. “My brother, however, is a different story.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You, Bella French, are the worst kind of girl. The kind that pretends to like someone, then goes and slinks off with their brother.” She took a step toward me, placing the markers in a yellow box. “That’s why this sign is so appropriate. You have been lying to my brother for over a week now and I’m sick of it.”
Regina’s face was calm, as if she were dispensing righteous justice.
My lips twitched. Then I laughed. I laughed so loud that she rushed forward and shushed me.
“What is your deal, spaz?” she demanded.
I took a deep breath to steady myself.
“You think that Jake is the victim here? You think that I lured him to me like a siren?”
I laughed again and looked at her. I wanted to her know that what she was saying was absolutely ridiculous.
She scowled.
“Not only are you a slut. You’re crazy. Wait until my brother finds out about all you’ve been up to. The sneaking around at parties. Dancing with Cole. Nearly kissing Cole in the hallway at Bree’s mansion. If I hadn’t told Jake and Stephanie where you were, who knows what could have happened.” She came nose to nose with me and bared her teeth. “You disgust me.”
“I disgust you? Or do I inspire you to paint?”
She blew out a breath.
“The world has to know what you are. What you call a locker, I call a canvas. It’s how I am exposing you and your little secrets, each and every day. I’d hoped that pitting you against Dana would get you kicked to the curb but when that didn’t work, I found that there was a sort of peace in waking up early and coming down here to create my masterpieces.” She shrugged. “You can expect locker art for many years to come. I think I’m hooked.”
I smiled at her. A smile full of pity.
She thought she was so pious. She had no idea what her brother was really about.
“Jake told me that if I went out with him, that he’d encourage Eric to go out with Ariel and make me popular. It was a business agreement. Not a real relationship.”
Regina’s face squeezed in shock, then disbelief.
“You’re lying. My brother wouldn’t need to do that to get a date. He could get any girl he wants.”
I shrugged. “I was the one he chose. At first, he said that if I told anyone, he would tell Ariel that Eric was only going out with her because Jake told him to. Then, I found out about the drugs. His real name. Your father.” The shock turned to anger. Protectiveness. It was a bad idea to tell Regina, Jake’s sister, any of this. For all I knew, she was the mastermind of the business operation. But I had to tell her. I had to redeem myself by telling the truth and that started here, with Regina.
“When Jake thought that I would tell the cops about his drugs, he threatened to kill my father and put his body in the swimming pool. When I refused to make our relationship a real one, he threatened to gut Cole.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. Jake, your brother, is a monster. His drugs were the ones that Mel overdosed on. He is what is tearing this school apart. I’m not going to let that happen. I have already called the cops. They are going to take him down.”
Regina stepped back, her breath coming in hard.
“I understand why you don’t like me, Regina. You don’t like me because you love your brother. You want to have a say in who he dates. I get that. But your brother is a heartless monster and I hope he rots in jail for the rest of his life for all of the horrible things that he’s done.”
Her eyes narrowed and she stomped toward me, spouting off something in Russian that I didn’t understand. Her hands went to my neck and I knew what she’d meant.
She was angry. She wanted to kill me.
I’d like to see her try it.
I stepped out of her reach and she had just shifted her weight to lunge for me when a voice called us from down the hallway.
“Girls, what are you doing here?”
Mr. Mann was swiftly approaching us, his eyes sweeping over first Regina, then me, then my locker.
“What on earth is going on here?”
“Take the blame,” Regina whispered. “Take it and I will help you get out of your mess with Jake.”
I shook my head.
She glared at me. Her words were slow. Calculated.
“If you don’t help me now, I will let my brother kill you.”
Mr. Mann stepped in to hearing distance just as the Regina spoke her last word. He hadn’t caught our little conversation.
“What is this?” he asked, gesturing to the locker. “Who did this?”
Regina looked at me, the threat clear in her eyes.
But I was done lying to cover up my sins. It was time to let the truth set me free.
“Mr. Mann, that is my locker. Regina has been defacing it for a week now.”
Mr. Mann’s chin tipped up and he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Is that true, Ms. Winsted?”
There was murder in Regina’s eyes. She didn’t reply.
“My office. Right now.”
She sent one last glare at me before following Mr. Mann down the hall.
Telling Regina everything was hard.
Telling Ariel and Jasmine would be even harder.
Jake walked with his typical swagger up to my locker, holding a red, shimmering bag. When he saw my outfit, he frowned.
I had ditched the mini-skirts and expensive, too tight shirts for jeans, a t-shirt, a light jacket and my red sneakers. It felt good to be me again. Not who Jake wanted me to be.
“You didn’t meet me at my locker,” he said.
“No. I did not.”
He looked at my outfit, clearly disapproving.
“You look … different,” he said.
“I look like me,” I replied. “That’s how I am going to be looking from now on.”
I frowned at him. No. Not frowned. Scowled. I hated Jake. I hated him with every fiber of my being. Just the fact that he was here made my blood boil.