Текст книги "Backlash"

Автор книги: Sarah Darer Littman

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

“No, Mom. It’ll help you put it behind you. Not me. You. Stop pretending this Lara Laws thing has anything to do with me.”

We ride home the rest of the way in silence, the distance between us much wider than the front seats of a car.

I need to escape from Mom when I get home, so I take my book and my Snuggie and go out to the patio, even though it’s cold. I’d rather freeze in solitude than be warm in the house with her. It works for a little while, but then I’m distracted by voices. I look up and see my sister climbing down the ladder from the old tree fort. But she wasn’t up there alone – because following her down the wooden rungs is Liam Connors.

Isn’t there a single person in this world I can trust anymore?

He touches her cheek tenderly before they part, and Syd smiles up at him, her face glowing and happy.

It makes me want to throw up.

I grab my Snuggie and book and run up to my room. Why should I care about the stupid rules when everyone else in the world is breaking them? I close the door and throw myself onto the bed, crying into my pillow so no one will hear.

Betrayal is only part of the sadness. The worst part – and it’s painful to admit this, even to myself – is that I’m jealous. I’m jealous that she has what I thought I had with Christian. A relationship with a boy who cares about her. For real, not pretend.

I’m crying into my pillow because it’ll never happen to me now because of Liam’s sister and his mom – and because I was stupid enough to think that it could happen to me in the first place.

I wait till we’re all sitting together at the dinner table before I casually mention that Syd was hanging out in the tree fort with Liam earlier.

Dad chokes on his casserole. His face turns reddish purple, and I have to thump him between the shoulder blades to dislodge the food.

“What the heck are you thinking, Sydney?” he explodes when he’s finally able to get air back in his lungs. “What possessed you to talk to the Connors boy after what they did to Lara?”

“Liam didn’t do anything,” Syd protests. “He’s just caught up in this mess because of his crazy family. Just like me.”

My parents glance at me to see how I’m taking that, because obviously, I have to be the crazy family she’s referring to, right? It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with them.

“Sydney …,” Dad says in a warning tone, but Syd’s on a roll.

“Why shouldn’t I see him? He’s my friend. Where’s the rule that says we have to stop being friends just because of Lara and Bree?”

“It’s not that,” Mom explains in her diplomatic politician voice. “But … surely you can see it’s awkward … under the circumstances.”

“Yeah, circumstances that neither Liam or I had anything to do with,” Syd says. “And just like always, we’re supposed to go along with the program, just because you guys say so!” She slams her knife and fork down on the table. “Well, FORGET THAT!” she shouts, pushing her chair back and standing up. “Just because you’re all screwed up, why should Liam and I suffer?”

She storms out of the room, crashes up the stairs, and slams her door so hard it rattles the light fixture.

“Pete, you have to talk to her,” Mom says. “She can’t keep associating with Liam. Not now. Can you imagine what would happen if the press got wind of it?”

I remember the look on Syd’s face when I saw her and Liam together earlier.

My sister and Liam are friends, but they’re more than that. And even though I’m jealous, even though what she has highlights everything that I lost when Christian turned on me and I found out he wasn’t real, I don’t want that taken from her.

“No,” I say suddenly. “Syd’s right.”

My parents stare at me. You’d think I’d suddenly grown a third head. Maybe I have, and this time I finally got one with a working brain.

This whole thing has been so messed up for everyone – for me, for Mom, for Dad, for Syd. Maybe until now, until I admitted to missing Christian today, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own misery, how much I am hurting, that it was the only thing I could see. Christian may have been fake, but one thing he said about me was true: I’m not a good friend.

Thinking back, I can start to see what he meant. I don’t want to, but it’s there. Especially with Bree. And it hits me that maybe she tried to tell me, but I just wouldn’t listen. Like, there was this one night when we were in eighth grade, I got back from a really bad day at the therapist, and I was complaining to Bree about how I hated school, my parents, and basically my entire life. She didn’t say anything while I cried about my awful day and even more awful life.

When I finally stopped, she said, “It sucks that you’re going through all this, Lara, but did you ever think of asking me how my day went?”

At the time, I just got mad. I thought she didn’t care about me, that she just didn’t understand how bad things were. I was so upset I hung up on her. But now I realize that Bree had a point, the same one that Syd made at dinner. I’ve been wrapped up in my own pain for so long, I haven’t paid much attention to anyone else’s. Even the people who care about me the most … or those who used to.

But I can start to change that tonight, right here, right now, by standing up for my sister. Maybe that can be my way of starting to move forward, the way trying to make a new law is for Mom.

“It’s not Liam’s fault,” I say. “He’s a victim, too. Like me. Like Syd. You can’t blame him for what Bree did. Or what his mom did.”

Mom and Dad exchange a glance. Apparently it means that Dad should do the talking.

“We know that, honey,” Dad says. “But it’s a complex situation.”

“What’s so complex about Liam and Syd wanting to stay friends? They really like each other.”

Mom looks at me sharply. “You mean ‘like’ as in … a crush?” she asks.

“Maybe. Or maybe just friends. I don’t know.”

Mom shakes her head, rubbing her temple. “This is all I need. The visuals of my daughter dating the son of the woman who cyberbullied you while I’m calling for legislation to make it a criminal offense …”

And that’s when I can’t take it for another minute longer.

“Visuals? Do you even hear yourself, Mom? We’re your daughters, not props for your political photo ops!”

“That’s not what I meant, I —”

But I don’t stay around to hear her explanation of what she meant. I’m already halfway up the stairs. I’m going to talk to Sydney, to apologize for ratting her out and to see if I can make it up to her, somehow.

Even if I can’t make up for the past, I can try to do better in the future.

I’VE GOT my headphones on, and I’m blasting music that matches the beat of all the angry words in my head. Now I know why people punch walls and things. Not that I’d do that, because I can imagine how much it would hurt, plus my parents would freak if I damaged the wall – or my hand. But I’ve got so much mad I’m not sure the four walls of my room can contain it, and maybe punching a hole in the wall would let it out.

Or maybe I could climb to the top of a really tall mountain and just scream and scream until I lost my voice. The problem is, despite its name, Lake Hills is pretty flat. It should be called Lake Hillslope. Or Lake Mounds. Hills is really stretching it.

Whatever you call this place, my life in it is unfair, and I’m so sick of it. And just when I had something good happen in all the awfulness, guess who ruined it, as usual? Lara, of course. Because that’s what she does. I’m starting to wonder if her goal in life is to ruin mine.

The music’s turned up so loud, I don’t hear her come in, so when she touches me to get my attention, I shout in surprise.

“Jeez, Lara, did you ever hear of knocking?” I say, pulling the headphones out and pausing the music.

“I did knock. But you didn’t hear me.” Lara gestures to the headphones.

She has a point.

“What do you want?” I ask, unwilling to concede anything because I’m so mad at her.

“I just … Can I sit down?” she asks.

“I guess,” I agree, reluctantly sliding over, but only a little so she has to perch on a little corner at the end of the bed.

“Syd … I just … I want to say I’m sorry. Really sorry. For … everything.”

I’m not sure I can believe what I’m hearing. My older sister is apologizing to me?

“Uh … what do you mean?”

She looks at me, confused. “Um … what I said. That I’m sorry.”

What is she sorry for? For ratting me out to Mom and Dad? For trying to kill herself? For making me miss auditions for Beauty and the Beast? For the fact that everything ends up being about her in this house?

“Wait … did Mom tell you to do this?”

“What?” Lara seems genuinely surprised I asked. “Why would you even think that?” she asks, her cheeks flushing.

I shrug. “Maybe because the only times you’ve ever apologized to me in my life are when Mom’s made you?”

Lara flinches, and her eyes glaze with tears.

I wonder if she’s going to turn and run, or do that thing she does where she disappears into Lara Land.

But she doesn’t. She lifts her chin and says, “Well, she didn’t make me this time. I decided to do it myself. I wanted to do it.”

And then she takes my reluctant hand and squeezes, hard, until I look her in the eye. When I do, she repeats, “I’m sorry, Syd. For everything. I mean it. I know things have been hard for you because of me. I’m sorry.”

Who are you and what have you done with Lara?

“I hope someday I can make it up to you,” Lara says.

A tear traces its way down her cheek.

And I feel like she just punched a hole in the wall for me, but with her words instead of her fist, because the anger inside me begins to escape.

I say, “Thanks,” and I sit up and hug her.

My sister has said “I’m sorry” to me so many times, but this time is the one that matters most. This time, she means it.

SYD CALLS and tells me to take Dad’s offer of a ride rather than fighting the press, even if it means being in the car with Bree. She says it will be less awkward than facing the looks we’ll get if we sit together on the bus again.

“Oh. Okay. Sure,” I say, but I’m gutted because I think that she’s already having second thoughts about kissing me. I’ve been replaying that kiss over and over and imagining more, but maybe she’s been thinking it was all one big mistake, never to be repeated, ever.

But then … “I got into a major fight with my parents at dinner,” she continues.

“What about?”

“You,” she says. “Lara saw us. And she snitched.”

“Uh-oh,” I say.

“ ‘Uh-oh’ is right,” she says. “My parents were all, What possessed you to hang out with him, Syd? It’s awkward under the circumstances, Syd, and I was like, Yeah, circumstances that have nothing to do with either of us.”

I smile, happy that she stood up to her parents for me. “Wow. Thanks.”

“And you know what’s the craziest thing of all?” she says. “After ratting me to Mom and Dad, guess who then stuck up for us and said they should back off?”

“Lara? No way.”

“Way! I couldn’t believe it, either,” Syd tells me. “And what’s even more amazing is the talk we had afterward. She came up to my room and said she was sorry for everything I’ve had to go through because of her.”

I try to imagine my sister saying something like that. Epic fail.

“Seriously?”

“I know, right? At first I was like, Who are you and what have you done with Lara?”

I laugh.

“But then, once I realized she really meant it, that maybe all this therapy stuff she’s been doing has actually made a difference, we talked. I mean really talked. It was pretty cool.”

I wonder what it would take for Bree to apologize to me. To any of us. Most of all, to Lara and the Kelleys. I wonder if I’ll ever understand what made my sister do the things she did.

We drop Bree off at the high school first the next morning.

“Keep your chin up, Breenut,” Dad says. “Don’t forget – go to the principal’s office and call me or Mom if you have a problem.”

Bree still doesn’t have a new cell. After what happened with her voice mail, she doesn’t seem in a hurry to get one, which is crazy because Bree’s life used to revolve around that phone.

Bree gets out of the car slowly, like she’s half-asleep still.

“Hey, Bree, could you hurry up? I have to get to school, too, you know,” I remind her.

Dad gives me a hush-up look in the rearview mirror.

“Bye,” Bree says, shutting the car door and shuffling off, shoulders hunched and head down.

“Can you try to show a little compassion for your sister, Liam?” Dad asks.

“What, like she showed for Lara?”

Dad’s lips set into a thin, grim line in the rearview mirror. “Bree did wrong. Very wrong. I’m not denying that,” Dad says. “And she deserves some consequences. But hacking her cell phone? Death threats? She’s fifteen years old, Liam, and she’s your sister. Can’t you cut her some slack?”

I’m so mad at Bree, it’s hard to let go of it, even though I hear what Dad’s saying. But I mumble, “I guess,” and figure I’ll try.

That’s until I hit the bathroom in between second and third period. I’m at the urinal taking care of business when four kids from the football team walk in, and Shane Perry says, “Yo, it’s Bullying Bree’s brother!”

Just my luck to be standing there, pants unzipped, midstream when four guys trap me in the bathroom.

Hurry up and finish, I tell my bladder, because all I want to do is zip up and get out of there. But it keeps on coming.

Meanwhile, they walk up behind me.

Steve Malloy says, “My sister’s a cheerleader at the high school. She said your sister pretended to be a guy and made Lara Kelley try to kill herself.”

He shoves me, and pee goes up the wall.

“Who does that?” Steve asks.

Not me. And could you at least let me put my junk away before you beat me up?

I finally finish and start trying to put myself back in my pants, but Todd Adams punches my arm really hard.

“Yeah,” he says as emphasis. “Who does that?”

“It wasn’t me,” I say. “It was Bree.”

Whose fault it is I’m getting beat up right now.

“And your mom,” Joe Anderson says. “Your mom is seriously cray-cray.”

I manage to get put away and zipped, just before Anderson and Malloy pin me against the wall.

Now I’m freaking out. I’m about to get seriously messed up. And there’s no way I can win four against one.

“That girl almost died,” Adams says, pulling my hair as he gets up into my face. “Doesn’t that make you feel bad, Connors?”

Spittle gets on my face as he says the s in Connors. I want to throw up.

“Of course it makes me feel bad,” I say, trying not to gag from the spittle.

“Not bad enough,” Shane Perry says. And he punches me in the stomach, hard, just as the bell rings for next period.

Anderson and Malloy let go of my arms and split with the rest of them, and I sink to the floor, clutching my stomach and trying to breathe.

All I can think of while I’m lying there is how much I hate my sister, because it’s all her fault that this happened.

WHEN I finally get to sleep, if I can sleep without dreaming, I’m able to escape for a while from the mess I’ve made of my life. Not just my life. My whole family’s life.

When the alarm goes off to wake me for school, I turn it off, fighting off tears, because I don’t know if I can face another day.

I wonder if this is how Lara felt.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I try to summon up the energy to get moving. Get up and get dressed. Brush my hair. Put on makeup. Try to look my best on the outside, even though I feel awful on the inside. Go downstairs. Eat food that tastes like nothing, even though I’m not hungry, just so Dad doesn’t give me a hard time because I haven’t eaten.

“Come on, let’s go,” Dad says, picking up his car keys and his briefcase.

“I might take the bus today,” Liam mumbles, staring down into his cornflakes.

“Go with your father, Liam,” Mom orders. “There’s still some press outside.”

“I don’t care,” Liam says, looking up and staring Mom down defiantly. “I don’t want to go with them. I’ll take the bus.”

“Bree, go wait in the car,” Dad tells me.

“Liam just wants to take the bus so he doesn’t have to be with me, right, Liam?” I say.

“It doesn’t matter why,” Mom says grimly. “He’s not taking the bus, and that’s final.”

Liam picks up his backpack and storms out to the garage to wait in the car, slamming the door behind him.

“Your brother got roughed up in the bathroom at school yesterday,” Dad says. His knuckles are white around the handle of his coffee cup. “Four guys against one.”

“Because of …”

“Yes, Breanna – because of the situation that you and your mother created for this family. Because the two of you didn’t think about how the repercussions of your actions would affect all of us.”

“Don’t start with that again —”

“Quiet, Mary Jo.”

My father doesn’t shout, but I almost wish he did, because his cold, precise anger is worse than my mother’s loud fire. I slump down in my seat.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“I know you’re sorry, Bree. But this is too big and it’s gone way too far for ‘I’m sorry’ to fix.”

Dad tells me this like it’s something I don’t already know.

But I do. When I begged him to stay home from school, he told me that actions have consequences and I have to learn to live with them. He doesn’t have to worry. I’m being taught a lesson again every single day.

Marci and Jenny aren’t waiting for me out front like they usually do, so I have to walk into school alone. There’s a bunch of football players and cheerleaders sitting on the wall by the front door.

Don’t let Ashley Trapasso be one of them.

I walk past, hoping they don’t notice me, but they do.

“It’s Bullying Bree,” Ashley calls out. “Who are you and Monster Mom planning to pick on next, Bree?”

Don’t look. Just keep walking.

“They better not pick on anyone.” It’s Tomas Garcia, the quarterback of the football team. “Otherwise we’re going to come over and pick on them.”

Other voices saying, “Yeah,” “Too right,” and calling me and Mom curse words.

Don’t look. Just keep on walking.

Sticksandstoneswillbreakmybonesbutnameswillneverhurtme.

Why do they even teach us that stupid rhyme? It’s such a lie. Names do hurt.

I’m shaking by the time I get to my locker.

No one says, Hi, Bree.

No one says, What’s up, Bree?

No one asks, Are you okay?

It’s like I’ve become the Invisible Girl – unless people want to say something bad.

I see Marci down the hallway and wave, but she turns away like she hasn’t seen me. Or maybe she has and she’s pretending she didn’t. Maybe the police finally went to her house and she’s mad at me for telling. The thought of Marci finding out makes me want to hurl.

I start to wonder if I am invisible. But as I walk to my first class and hear the names people call me, I’m reminded that people can see me all too well.

That’s when I start to wish I really were invisible.

At lunch, I see Marci and Jenny sitting at a table with Diane Taylor and Liza Sanchez. I go over to sit with them, but when I get to the table, Marci looks at me and says, “Sorry, Bree, there’s no room.”

She moves her chair to the side as if to emphasize the point.

“It’s okay, I can move over if you find a chair,” Jenny says.

Marci gives her a dirty look. But the look she gives me is even worse. That’s when I know without a doubt that the police went to her house. I realize this is the end. Marci’s decided the perks of being friends with the celebrity bully have lost their luster, and she’ll never forgive me for betraying her. She’s better off hating me like everyone else.

Even though she did it, too.

At least Marci didn’t make a scene. I just don’t think I can handle another person pointing out how awful I am. I turn away, trying not to cry in front of everyone in the middle of the cafeteria because that would be fatal. I walk with my lunch tray straight to the cafeteria door.

“You can’t leave with that,” says Mr. D’Anastasio, the teacher on lunch duty.

So I throw my lunch in the garbage, tray and all, and walk out of the cafeteria, ignoring Mr. D’Anastasio’s angry shout. Fighting the tears that threaten to cloud my vision, I head straight for the main office to call Mom to take me home.

Dad thinks I should have consequences. Well, I’ve got them. I hope he’s happy.

When Mom talks to the principal about what’s going on, he says there’s a zero-tolerance policy on bullying but then shrugs.

“Look, I understand your concerns, Mrs. Connors, and obviously this isn’t kind behavior, but it’s not bullying as defined under the law … and under the circumstances I can’t say this is entirely unexpected.”

“So what you’re saying is my daughter brought this on herself, is that what I’m hearing?” Mom says, her voice shaking with anger.

“No, Mrs. Connors, I’m just saying that given your daughter’s actions toward Lara Kelley, I’m not surprised that there is backlash from other students,” the principal says. “It doesn’t make it right, but that’s the way it is.”

“Well, if that’s your attitude, you better get my daughter transferred to another school, pronto, or you’re going to have a lawsuit on your hands,” Mom says. “Come on, Bree. I’m getting you out of this place.”

For the first time in my life, I’m glad that my mother is a Great White Shark Mom, because maybe it means I won’t have to come back to this school.

School isn’t the only problem. The death threats have kept on coming, even though we disconnected the landline and got an unlisted number. After Mom tells Dad about what happened at school, Dad makes Liam and me delete all our social media accounts – Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, you name it. It upset me a little, but I could understand why Dad was making me do it, and to be honest, I hadn’t been checking them much because I was afraid to see what people were writing. Liam, on the other hand … I’ve never seen him so mad.

“WHAT DID I DO?” he shouts. “Nothing. That’s what!”

The nasty look he gives me is worse than the kids at school. Because he’s my brother, part of my family. He’s supposed to love me. That’s what families do.

“This is all your fault, Bree. I hate you!”

I guess “supposed to” doesn’t matter when our family is falling to pieces, and I’m the one to blame for pushing us all off the cliff.

“Liam, we’re dealing with more than enough haters outside of these walls,” Dad says, his voice quiet but firm. “We don’t need them on the inside.”

“Too bad you didn’t tell her that,” Liam spits out, gesturing to me angrily with his thumb. “Or Mom. Before they started hating on Lara. Before they made her try to kill herself.”

I wrap my arms around my waist, as if they can offer a shield from his angry words. But nothing does. My brother’s disgust with me is like nuclear radiation; it seeps through all my feeble defenses.

“People make mistakes,” Dad says, sighing heavily. “You can’t hate your sister forever because she made one bad decision.”

“Try me,” Liam argues, his eyes cold and narrowed. “Not all mistakes end up with death threats and people leaving dog crap in our mailbox.”

“Okay, so I made the Biggest Mistake in the History of the Universe,” I say, feeling like I’m going to cry for the zillionth time since I heard those messages on my cell phone. “I’m sorry, all right?”

“Are you, Bree? Really?” Liam asks. “You didn’t seem that sorry when Lara tried to kill herself. It’s like you’re just sorry ’cause you got caught.”

Maybe it’s because he hurt me so badly when he said that. Maybe it’s because he fired an arrow, and it hit a bull’s-eye in a truly dark place. Maybe it’s because, deep down, I know in some small way he’s right. Maybe it’s because it hurts so much that my brother seems to hate me, and that just makes me want to hurt him back.

“Well, what are you doing hanging around with Sydney Kelley?” I ask. “I saw you two coming down from the tree fort together last night. How sick is that when Mom had to call the cops on her dad, and her parents want to put Mom and me in jail?”

I know this came as a total shock to Dad based on his expression as he turns to my brother and asks, “Is this true, Liam? Have you been hanging out with Sydney? Do you realize how inappropriate that is?”

If I thought Liam was mad before, that was just the warm-up. Dad’s question is the spark that ignites the serious fireworks.

“I’m the one making things inappropriate? Because I’m hanging out with Sydney?” he shouts at Dad, and it’s gross because he’s literally spitting with rage. “I didn’t ask to be part of this freak show. But I had no choice. I am stuck smack in the middle of it.”

“It’s not easy for anyone right now —” Dad says, but Liam’s not in the mood for excuses.

“You know what they call me at school? Son of Monster Mom. Bullying Bree’s Brother. I hate every … single … minute. If I had enough money …”

He gives a bitter laugh, which ends up sounding like a sob. “Forget that – if I had the courage, I’d run away and change my name so no one would know I was related to you.”

He says the last part looking straight at me, with such disgust and loathing that I can’t believe he’s the little brother I’ve grown up with and lived with my whole life.

I can’t face him anymore. I can’t face the world anymore. It’s bad enough that everyone at school hates me. It’s bad enough that all these people who don’t even know me hate me.

I run to my room and throw myself on the bed, crying, wondering if this is all I can look forward to in the future – if I’ll always be hated because I’m Bullying Bree, the Monster Spawn of Monster Mom, pariah of Lake Hills.

“Didn’t you ever stop, for just one minute, to think about the consequences of what you were doing?” Dad had asked me last night when he came to kiss me good night and found me crying.

“I d-don’t k-know,” I sniffed.

“It’s a simple yes or no question, Breanna,” he said, smoothing the hair back from my hot, damp cheek.

What Dad doesn’t get is that nothing is “simple” anymore. Especially not that.

“Did you ask Mom that?” I asked him. “Because she did it, too.”

I’ve been thinking about that a lot.

What would have happened if Mom had acted differently when she caught me pretending to be Christian?

What if she had punished me instead of joining in?

What if she hadn’t just grounded me, but she’d called Mrs. Kelley and told her what was going on and made sure they broke things to Lara gently because of her history?

Would Lara have tried to kill herself?

Would we be getting death threats?

Would Liam hate me?

Would I hate myself?

But here’s the question I ask myself most of all, especially at night when I stare up at the ceiling, trying to get to sleep: Should I have been the one to take all those pills instead of Lara?