The chime of Ruby’s cell phone brought Tamarind back to the present. “You’ve got a message,” she said as two other chimes followed in succession. “A few messages. Want me to read them for you?”
“That’s okay,” Ruby said. “I’ll check them when we get there. Maxi and I are going to go over an English assignment while I’m waiting. Or it might be Aurora. She texts me all the time, to check on you.”
“Does she? That’s so sweet. And you’ve become a good source of support for your sister.”
“She’s not so bad sometimes.”
Tamarind chuckled. “Such a rave review! Aw, Rubes. What’s going on here? You taking care of me and your sister, too. The world’s turned upside-down.”
“I don’t mind,” Ruby said.
“No, I don’t think you do, as long as you’re in control. You’re a person who likes the patterns of ritual. You want to know that you can handle things, and I’m happy to say, you manage quite well, Rubes.”
“Thanks.”
Ruby’s phone chimed again, a number of times.
“Your phone’s blowing up! Sure you don’t want me to check for you?” Tamarind looked down at the console, where the orange, sparkly cell phone was tucked into a rectangular compartment.
“I’ll catch it later. You can turn on the radio and listen to your music.”
“The music you hate?”
“Yup. Right now you get a free pass.”
“Wow.” Tamarind turned the radio on. “I’d better milk this thing for all it’s worth.”
CHAPTER 32
Luna couldn’t stop crying. Sick with shame as she fled Hazel’s house, she walked with her head down. In an effort to calm herself she counted the red paving stones in the Hansons’ driveway as she retreated from the house. Four, eight, twelve, I hate you, sixteen, twenty, twenty-four, my heart is so broken it hurts. The rush of hot tears had embarrassed her, especially when Hazel’s mom had taken her into her arms and hugged her close.
“Take care of yourself, honey,” Nicole had said. As if they were never going to see each other again.
Had Hazel and her mother believed him? That crazy story about killing her mother, something about a knife? Luna wished that she’d had more time with Hazel, a chance to see if Leo had scared her away or if she realized he was lying.
What a stupid story!
She was furious with Leo and mad at herself for thinking he would ever come around, but she never expected him to come to the door and spout out disgusting lies about her. Her arms were folded across her chest, a gesture of defiance but mostly as a way to hold the book under her shirt as she marched down the driveway, rounded the corner, and walked around the corner to their house. The front door would be bolted from the inside; Leo always kept it locked tight, with the keys to the rows of locks on a ring that he clipped to one of his belt loops, but the back door from the kitchen was kept unbolted during the day when Leo was home. She paused at the garage door, waiting for him to catch up so she could distract him. They would have to go around the garage, and she didn’t want him to notice the one window she had left unlatched in the garage. That was her secret way to return if she peeked through the fence and saw Leo working in the backyard.
She kicked at some stones at the end of the driveway and wheeled around. “Why did you do that? You made up a lie about me!”
He smiled as he closed the distance between them. “I was saving you. If that neighbor girl gets too attached, her nosy parents are going to start asking questions. And questions bring outsiders. Who will come and take you away and make you a ward of the state. You’ll live in an orphanage and you’ll never see your mother again. Is that what you want?”
“No! But you lied.”
“I saved you, Luna.”
“And you’re wrong about Hazel,” she said as they passed the unlatched garage window. She didn’t dare look that way. “She’s my friend. She’s not going to report me.”
“Ha. You’re young, but you’ll learn. You can never trust people on the outside. I’m the only one who cares for you.”
She didn’t believe him. She trusted the Hanson family. But telling Leo that would only make him madder.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes, Leo.” She traipsed across the backyard, careful to keep her distance from the shed that covered Annabelle’s bones and the woodpile that Mama used to climb in and out their window at night. Two pieces of wood had fallen from the stack, but Leo didn’t seem to notice as he followed Luna to the back door. It was Mama’s secret—their secret. “I just want you to know so you won’t be scared,” Mama had told her. “If you wake up during the night and I’m not here, don’t worry. I’ll be back. I’ll always come back to you, my Luna.” She paused to bend down and pick up the wood. Leo glared at her as she tucked the split logs onto the stack.
“I feel like you’re not really getting this,” Leo complained. “It’s not sinking through your thick skull.” He rapped on her head with his knuckles. It didn’t hurt, not really, but it made her feel like a stupid wooden puppet, like Pinocchio. “A day or two in the attic will give you some time to smarten up.”
You’re so mean! He led the way now, and she burned hatred into his back as he led the way inside. He paused to insert the keys that locked the dead bolts on the kitchen door.
With the door locked tight, he turned back to her. “Off you go. Up to jail.”
She plodded up the stairs, arms crossed over her chest to keep the book in place. Dust motes swirled in the dim light from the outdoor vent at the top of the staircase. It glittered, a pretty sight, though it was only dust. She wished Hazel were here to see it. Then again, she wouldn’t wish crazy, mean Leo on anyone.
She waited again while he unlocked the door, this time with a key to the knob. When the door had to be replaced after Annabelle scraped the surface away with her fingernails, Natalie had put her foot down on installing lots of locks.
“It’s just the attic,” Natalie had whined when Leo talked about installing three locks on the new door. “Not really a question of security. I’m not throwing hundreds of dollars into that door. One lock will do.” Natalie managed the money for all the sisters, and she seemed to like reminding everyone that she was paying all the bills. Luna imagined her in her office at the hotel, counting gold coins and giggling, like Scrooge in the beginning of the Christmas Carol movie. Money, money, money was all she cared about.
That left Leo to be the boss of everyone.
Biting her lips to keep from saying anything else, she moved past him toward the dim attic.
“Hold on a second,” he said. “What’s that under your shirt?”
“Nothing.” She let her hands fall away from the shirt, hoping the book would stick into the waistband of her jeans. It remained suspended there but flattened her sweatshirt, one of her favorites that Mama had gotten from Goodwill. Big red letters spelled out: SOU Raiders. Rachel told her it was the name of a university team, and that made her feel really smart wearing it.
“Seriously?” Leo knocked his fist against her chest, banging on the book. “You really thought I wouldn’t notice?”
She clutched the book closed but didn’t dare defy him when he told her to take it out.
He squinted at the front cover. “A Series of Unfortunate Events.”
“Hazel loaned it to me. It’s the first one in a series.”
“It’s a ridiculous story.”
“Hazel loved it.”
“Hazel is getting a mediocre education based on dreck like this. You read adult books, classics.”
“I’ve read the Harry Potter books.”
“They’re classics now. In this house, we don’t read garbage like this.” He opened the book to the middle, scowled at the pages, and then ripped it in two.
“No! Leo! That’s Hazel’s book and I promised to give it back.”
“She can have it back. Both the beginning, and the end.”
Tears were rolling down her cheeks again, as
he taunted her with the two torn chunks, then tossed them into the attic space behind her. There was something different about Leo today, something scary. He had always been mean to her, always a strict teacher, but today he seemed to have a new interest in taunting her, teasing her. It was as if he were seeing her for the first time, and she didn’t like being visible in his world, a prized rose budding in his garden. She turned away from him, grateful for alone time in the attic without him.
“Wait a second,” he said, tugging on her hand. “Let’s make sure you’re not smuggling anything else in. Lift up your shirt.”
Her lips hardened as she turned back and lifted the sweatshirt, grateful that she now had something to wear underneath. “See? It was only the book.” As she started to pull the shirt down his hands were on her, pressing the fabric up higher as he pressed his palms against her.
“Look at that. Like ripe plums.” He rubbed his thumbs over the panels of the bralette, tickling the spots in the centers of her breasts. Nipples, Mama called them. It caused a sensation that tingled but made her step back.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“No.” She twisted away. “Stop it.” Touching was against the rules; even hugs were forbidden among the sisters. Mama was the only person in the house who snuggled with Luna or kissed her, and only when they were alone. It was another reason Luna liked being with Hazel, who had taught her that friends could hold hands and sit next to each other on the couch, snuggling close while they watched television. Luna had always liked to be touched . . . until this . . . this touching in a personal place on her body.
He dropped his hands and cocked his head to one side, giving her a sleepy-eyed look. “What? Not ready yet?” He smiled. “It’ll happen soon. What are you, eleven? Twelve?”
“Almost eleven.”
“You look older. I guess because you’re on your way. It won’t be long until you’re a woman, full-grown and ripe like a juicy apple.”
He made it sound weird. She was a girl, not a piece of fruit. But she couldn’t argue. She could feel the danger; the Lion waiting to pounce.
“You don’t get it yet, but you’ll come along.” His voice seemed kind, almost like a friend, and it scared her. Sugar-coated poison. “Once you grow and the hormones kick in, you’ll want me to touch them. You’ll be begging me.”
No. His touch wasn’t friendly like Mama’s or Hazel’s. It was greedy. His touch would cause her pain. She folded her arms in front of her chest and stared down at the floor, wishing he would leave her alone.
“And now you’re embarrassed,” he said. “That’s sweet, but you’ll grow out of that, too.” He let out a sigh. “Sweet, good girls always grow into bad, naughty women. I guess it’s my curse to have to deal with you.”
After a long stare, he let her go into the attic alone, and she felt the strange relief of someone who’d just missed death by a sliver of a moment, like a character in a movie stepping off the train tracks a second before the locomotive plowed by. She went immediately to the sleeping bag, fell to her knees, and lowered the zipper with trembling hands.
Was he watching? Had he gone? She hadn’t heard the door.
She wriggled in between the flannel-lined panels and sank down, into the darkness, letting it swallow her completely as she imagined him gone, not just from the room, but from the house. Go away, she wished silently, far away.
At last, she heard him moving: the click on the knob as Leo locked her in. The creak and tap of his feet on the steps, growing softer as he went down, leaving her. She peeked out through the top to make sure, then breathed in the good stale air. She was alone.
She stared at the door of her prison. Yes, it kept her trapped here, but right now it also kept her a little safe from him. The door was newer than the rest of the house. Boring brown, made of cheap wood. Leo had decided it needed replacing after Annabelle had damaged the previous door.
“She tore down to the wood with her bare hands,” the sisters had whispered. “Did you see it? I saw the blood. A terrible sight.”
Having been a little kid at the time, Luna had been spared the graphic details of Annabelle’s end until later. Mostly she remembered her funeral, a festival held in their backyard, where Leo and three of the sisters had lowered her body into a hole using blankets to ease it down. It all took place under blue tarps Leo had strung up in the backyard, making it seem even more secretive and special. For Luna, the funeral had been a creative time, as Mama had shown her how to weave crowns out of yellow dandelions, and she’d worked voraciously gathering the bright flowers and crafting a crown for each sister to wear for the funeral. She’d made a bigger one for Leo, too.
“King Leo, the Lion-hearted,” Natalie had said when she saw the crown on his head, and all the sisters had smiled and complimented Luna on her hard work.
For the grave Mama had cut some pale purple lilacs and leaves from the bush in the corner of the yard. Luna had wanted to place them on the grave once Leo and the sisters were finished covering it with soil, but in the end the dirt had seemed too soft and she was afraid she might sink in and go down, down into the moist earth, swallowed up like an explorer trapped in quicksand. So she’d handed the lilacs to Mama, watching curiously as they were tossed atop the soil and left to die like Annabelle.
The things that had seemed so important at the time—dandelion crowns and the blue tarp awning and a lilac bouquet—all were gone in a few weeks.
Luna went to the small, grubby attic window and wiped at the grimy glass with her palm. Below her, in the backyard, she could see only the edge of the shed that now covered Annabelle’s grave. Over time the tarp awning had been replaced by the small storage shed and the woodpile, which had worried Luna at first.
“Do you think Annabelle feels the weight of all that wood on her bones?” she’d asked Mama after a day in which the sisters had helped Leo unload, split, and stack a cord of wood over the backyard grave.
“There’s no pain at all,” Mama had told Luna. “That’s the beauty of death.”
How did Mama know that if she had never died? And how could death be beautiful? And where was Annabelle, actually? Was she still down in the dirt below Luna and Glory’s bedroom window, still trying to moan and cry for help as she’d done from the attic? Annabelle’s moans had scared the sisters. Georgina had wanted to bring her soup. “She just needs a hot bath,” Kimani had said. A bath and a good night’s sleep, most of the sisters agreed.
But Leo wouldn’t allow it. “She’ll come out when she’s learned her lesson.”
Luna, who had been memorizing her multiplication tables at the time, couldn’t imagine a lesson that would take that many days to learn.
When the moaning seeped through the walls into their dreams, Natalie had sent Leo up to the attic to “make it stop.” After that the moans had softened to sighs. And then one day Leo told the sisters that Annabelle had passed. A hunger strike, he had said. Her choice.
Luna had never understood that.
Although it had been years since Annabelle died, sometimes when Luna was in bed at night she listened for her. She heard something moving, but it was only the creaking floors or roof vents shifting in the wind. Here in the attic, she thought she could feel her ghost. Sometimes she ran her fingers over the rough edges of the brick, convinced that the warmth of the chimney brick came from the glow of Annabelle, a friendly ghost who understood how cold and lonely this attic could be.
Now she pressed her palm to the grimy glass of the windowpane as she looked to the darkness below where Annabelle’s bones lay mingling with the soil. The cold of the glass brought the greedy touch of Leo’s fingers to mind, and suddenly she understood.
“Annabelle,” she whispered. “You didn’t mean to die. You just had to get away. From him.”
CHAPTER 33
Although Ruby had been nervous about accompanying her mother to chemotherapy, her tension eased when they arrived on the infusion floor, where they were gree
ted by a friendly nurse named Jessica. “Come on down.” Shorter than Ruby but big on personality, Jessica motioned them down the hallway as if she were flagging in a jet plane.
“Don’t I need to check in?” Mom asked.
“We’ll get you set up in a bay first, and then we’ll take care of the boring stuff there.” Jessica smiled up at Ruby. “I know Tamarind is the patient. Who are you?”
“I’m her daughter.” Ruby was trying not to stare as they passed windowed cubbies with reclining chairs and medical equipment. Some of the cubbies were closed off by curtains. Most of the others were filled by reclining women and men, though she noticed one teenage boy being treated.
“Do you have a name, daughter?”
“Ruby McCullum.”
“Okay, Ruby Dooby. You and Mom can get settled in here, bay number five. You’ve got your own recliner, a window, TV, and internet access.”
Ruby eased onto the smooth reclining chair and leaned back. “This is comfy. I could settle in here and get some homework done.”
“Pretty swell, huh?” Jessica smiled. “You can stay there. But in half an hour or so, I’m going to be treating the person sitting there, so you may want to give it up.”
Ruby slid out of the chair. “It’s all yours, Mom.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“So this recliner is for the patient,” Jessica said, patting the chair, “since it’s got all the doohickies, bells and whistles. Emilio will be around in about an hour with the dinner cart, in case you guys need food. If you’re desperately hungry, we can send Ruby on a reconnaissance mission down to the cafeteria on the first floor. But first, let me get your information so that I can order your chemo cocktail from the lab.”
“Do you want me in the chair?” Tamarind asked.
Jessica waved her off. “You’ll be there soon enough. Right now you can hang out wherever you want.”
Mom perched on the windowsill as the nurse went over her information and history. Jessica entered her responses on an iPad and sent an order down to the lab. As they talked, Ruby went over to the television, muted it, and began to search to see what selection of channels they had. She wasn’t a soap opera fan, but they had a few good movies and sitcoms on demand, including Ruby’s most recent addiction, Parks and Recreation. Mom usually liked to watch that with her.
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