the pace.
“You can’t talk to me like that, you little ingrate.” He sounds seriously mad.
“I just did!” she shouts, walking into the house and locking the door behind her.
I follow her upstairs to her room and when we’re inside I ask, “Who was that?”
“Stepdaddy number two,” she says, dropping her wet towel on the middle of the floor along with her wet bathing suit.
I turn away and undress in segments. Like first I take off my top and immediately replace it with my bra, and I try to do it fast since I’m not supercomfortable being naked in front of other people. But my skin is still kind of damp in spots so my bra kind of drags and scrapes as I yank it around, and it hurts, but I pretend like it doesn’t.
And when I’m trying to pull up my underpants with my towel still wrapped around my waist (which is definitely more difficult than it sounds), I can hear him banging on the sliding glass door downstairs. “Aren’t you going to let him in?” I ask.
“No,” she says, slipping into a red silk robe, and tying the sash tight around her waist. “The other doors are unlocked. He’ll figure it out.”
“You must really hate him,” I say, changing back into my school clothes, and sitting on the edge of her bed.
But she just shrugs. “He’s an ass, but he’s my mom’s problem, not mine. He’s like my second stepdad in the last six years.” She sits on the chair across from her bed and looks at me. “But it’s not like he has any authority over me. I do whatever the hell I want, and there’s nothing he can do about it.” She reaches into the drawer of her nightstand, and pulls out a tiny glass vial. “Want some?” she offers.
“What is that?” I ask, squinting.
“Coke.” She shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“You mean,
cocaine?
” I say, my voice sounding louder than I planned but she doesn’t seem to care.
“Well, it ain’t the kind you drink but you still need a straw!” she says, chopping and sweeping it into a perfect little runway. “So are wesharing?” She looks at me briefly, then sticks a tiny straw up her nose and leans down.
I shake my head no and try not to stare, but I can’t help it. I’ve only seen coke in movies, never in real life. “You just keep it in that drawer?” I ask, feeling really uncomfortable and completely out of my element.
“Where am I supposed to keep it?” She sits up, rubbing her nose and blinking rapidly.
“But what if they find it?” I ask.
“They have no business coming in here. And believe me, they don’t want to find it. They’re in complete denial and that’s how they like it. As long as I don’t interfere in their life, they don’t interfere in mine.” She starts chopping and sweeping again, carving out another line. Then she looks at me and goes, “I need you to do something for me.”
“What?” I ask, feeling panicked that she’s gonna make me do it, like to prove my loyalty or something, even though I know how ridiculous that sounds.
“Don’t mention this to Jen and Kayla, okay? I mean, it’s
so
not a big deal but still, they’d totally freak. This will just be our little secret. Deal?” she asks, looking at me, waiting.
“Deal,” I whisper, watching her lean down again.
When she’s finished, she wipes her index finger across the mirror, collecting the white powdery remnants and rubbing it into her gums. Then she gathers all her stuff and sticks it back in her drawer so quickly that it almost seems like it didn’t happen.
“So where’s your real dad?” I ask, desperate to say something.
“My parents split like ten years ago and my dad lives on Lido Isle.” She looks at me and shrugs.
“Oh, that sounds exotic and faraway. I mean, you probably don’t get to see him much, huh?”
“Please. It’s like ten minutes from here.” She laughs. “And believe me, there’s nothing exotic about it. It’s just a little island full of rich people, just like everywhere else in Newport. But
“You can’t talk to me like that, you little ingrate.” He sounds seriously mad.
“I just did!” she shouts, walking into the house and locking the door behind her.
I follow her upstairs to her room and when we’re inside I ask, “Who was that?”
“Stepdaddy number two,” she says, dropping her wet towel on the middle of the floor along with her wet bathing suit.
I turn away and undress in segments. Like first I take off my top and immediately replace it with my bra, and I try to do it fast since I’m not supercomfortable being naked in front of other people. But my skin is still kind of damp in spots so my bra kind of drags and scrapes as I yank it around, and it hurts, but I pretend like it doesn’t.
And when I’m trying to pull up my underpants with my towel still wrapped around my waist (which is definitely more difficult than it sounds), I can hear him banging on the sliding glass door downstairs. “Aren’t you going to let him in?” I ask.
“No,” she says, slipping into a red silk robe, and tying the sash tight around her waist. “The other doors are unlocked. He’ll figure it out.”
“You must really hate him,” I say, changing back into my school clothes, and sitting on the edge of her bed.
But she just shrugs. “He’s an ass, but he’s my mom’s problem, not mine. He’s like my second stepdad in the last six years.” She sits on the chair across from her bed and looks at me. “But it’s not like he has any authority over me. I do whatever the hell I want, and there’s nothing he can do about it.” She reaches into the drawer of her nightstand, and pulls out a tiny glass vial. “Want some?” she offers.
“What is that?” I ask, squinting.
“Coke.” She shrugs, like it’s no big deal.
“You mean,
cocaine?
” I say, my voice sounding louder than I planned but she doesn’t seem to care.
“Well, it ain’t the kind you drink but you still need a straw!” she says, chopping and sweeping it into a perfect little runway. “So are wesharing?” She looks at me briefly, then sticks a tiny straw up her nose and leans down.
I shake my head no and try not to stare, but I can’t help it. I’ve only seen coke in movies, never in real life. “You just keep it in that drawer?” I ask, feeling really uncomfortable and completely out of my element.
“Where am I supposed to keep it?” She sits up, rubbing her nose and blinking rapidly.
“But what if they find it?” I ask.
“They have no business coming in here. And believe me, they don’t want to find it. They’re in complete denial and that’s how they like it. As long as I don’t interfere in their life, they don’t interfere in mine.” She starts chopping and sweeping again, carving out another line. Then she looks at me and goes, “I need you to do something for me.”
“What?” I ask, feeling panicked that she’s gonna make me do it, like to prove my loyalty or something, even though I know how ridiculous that sounds.
“Don’t mention this to Jen and Kayla, okay? I mean, it’s
so
not a big deal but still, they’d totally freak. This will just be our little secret. Deal?” she asks, looking at me, waiting.
“Deal,” I whisper, watching her lean down again.
When she’s finished, she wipes her index finger across the mirror, collecting the white powdery remnants and rubbing it into her gums. Then she gathers all her stuff and sticks it back in her drawer so quickly that it almost seems like it didn’t happen.
“So where’s your real dad?” I ask, desperate to say something.
“My parents split like ten years ago and my dad lives on Lido Isle.” She looks at me and shrugs.
“Oh, that sounds exotic and faraway. I mean, you probably don’t get to see him much, huh?”
“Please. It’s like ten minutes from here.” She laughs. “And believe me, there’s nothing exotic about it. It’s just a little island full of rich people, just like everywhere else in Newport. But
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