can’t wait to be alone with Ben, Parker Whispered, and I clenched my jaw, wanting and not wanting to be helpful.
A soft moan escaped Parker as Ben’s huge hands rubbed her neck. She sounded like Scarlett moaning to be let out, I thought, then felt bad. Parker hadn’t done anything wrong; I had. Now I was thinking snarky thoughts about her, on top of everything?
What the hell was happening to me? The contents of my own mind scared me lately. Meanness, selfishness, disloyalty. No wonder Icka claimed to be horrified by my Whispers.
Using the mattress for support, I pushed myself to my feet. I had to get out of here.
“I’m, uh, going to see if Helena’s here yet,” I mumbled in excuse.
The staccato tramp of my heels on the hardwood staircase shocked me. Icka was the one who clomped and stomped down the stairs, not me. In the dim downstairs hallway I heard snatches of loud conversation and Whispers carried from the living room:
“Oh my god, awkward…”
“Watch, this is how Bree dances!”
Dude, I wish he’d stop boring me with his football stories.
Hope she’s not still mad about that joke.
“You two lovebirds or something?”
My party was entering full swing without me. I slipped into the kitchen without being seen.
Mom glanced up from loading the dishwasher. “Honey, what are you doing here? You should be enjoying your party.”
“Mom, where’s Icka? She did come home, right?”
Mom smiled. “There’s no need to worry. Jessica willbe home tomorrow, and—”
“Tomorrow?”
“Well, yes, she’s visiting Pendleton U this weekend. Don’t you remember?”
I blinked. Pendleton was a small private art college in Portland. It was the only school that went out of its way to woo Icka, hinting at scholarships and inviting her to shadow a freshman student. “But I thought she told their recruiter she’d rather join the Young Republicans than set foot on a private school campus.”
“She did,” Mom said patiently, “but remember what she said a few days ago at dinner?”
I squinted. Tuning out Icka’s dinnertime rants was an art I excelled in.
“How she might be willing to give it a try,” Mom prompted, “if we’d all shut up and stop pressuring her?”
“Really?” That did sound like something Icka would say…and, if she had to be in downtown Portland, maybe that’s what she was referring to when she said she had to go. “I guess I just haven’t been paying attention lately.”
“Well, you’ve been busy with your birthday plans. But that’s okay,” Mom added quickly. “Birthdays are important . I know how much you’ve been looking forward to today.” She plunked a spatula in the dishwasher with finality. “Now go, have fun!”
Did her voice sound strained? For someone who was promoting fun, Mom didn’t seem like she was enjoying herselfmuch. Her posture was straight as a pencil, her smile was all lipstick and no twinkle. Was something bothering her—being away from her older daughter, maybe? I lingered, Listening for Whispers. “She’s only going to be gone overnight, right, Mom?” But the moment I spoke, the crown of my head suddenly pulsed with familiar pain.
“That’s right.” Mom grinned and snapped her fingers. The sound sent waves of pain through my head, and with it a crunchy noise crackled through my mindscape, on and off like radio static: “Convenient…can’t…party…this year…Go…fun…”
Whoa. What the hell was happening? This was worse than just a headache. “Ma…someth…pening…me…” I could barely hear myself over the static.
Mom’s eyes looked worried as she put her hand on my shoulder. Her mouth opened and closed, but I couldn’t understand her reassurances.
“Help me,” I tried to say. “I can’t Hear you, I can’t Hear anything, it’s just noise.” My palms were now cold and wet with sweat. Icka’s warning ran through my head: “I’ve figured out why you’re getting all those headaches…. You’re about to turn
A soft moan escaped Parker as Ben’s huge hands rubbed her neck. She sounded like Scarlett moaning to be let out, I thought, then felt bad. Parker hadn’t done anything wrong; I had. Now I was thinking snarky thoughts about her, on top of everything?
What the hell was happening to me? The contents of my own mind scared me lately. Meanness, selfishness, disloyalty. No wonder Icka claimed to be horrified by my Whispers.
Using the mattress for support, I pushed myself to my feet. I had to get out of here.
“I’m, uh, going to see if Helena’s here yet,” I mumbled in excuse.
The staccato tramp of my heels on the hardwood staircase shocked me. Icka was the one who clomped and stomped down the stairs, not me. In the dim downstairs hallway I heard snatches of loud conversation and Whispers carried from the living room:
“Oh my god, awkward…”
“Watch, this is how Bree dances!”
Dude, I wish he’d stop boring me with his football stories.
Hope she’s not still mad about that joke.
“You two lovebirds or something?”
My party was entering full swing without me. I slipped into the kitchen without being seen.
Mom glanced up from loading the dishwasher. “Honey, what are you doing here? You should be enjoying your party.”
“Mom, where’s Icka? She did come home, right?”
Mom smiled. “There’s no need to worry. Jessica willbe home tomorrow, and—”
“Tomorrow?”
“Well, yes, she’s visiting Pendleton U this weekend. Don’t you remember?”
I blinked. Pendleton was a small private art college in Portland. It was the only school that went out of its way to woo Icka, hinting at scholarships and inviting her to shadow a freshman student. “But I thought she told their recruiter she’d rather join the Young Republicans than set foot on a private school campus.”
“She did,” Mom said patiently, “but remember what she said a few days ago at dinner?”
I squinted. Tuning out Icka’s dinnertime rants was an art I excelled in.
“How she might be willing to give it a try,” Mom prompted, “if we’d all shut up and stop pressuring her?”
“Really?” That did sound like something Icka would say…and, if she had to be in downtown Portland, maybe that’s what she was referring to when she said she had to go. “I guess I just haven’t been paying attention lately.”
“Well, you’ve been busy with your birthday plans. But that’s okay,” Mom added quickly. “Birthdays are important . I know how much you’ve been looking forward to today.” She plunked a spatula in the dishwasher with finality. “Now go, have fun!”
Did her voice sound strained? For someone who was promoting fun, Mom didn’t seem like she was enjoying herselfmuch. Her posture was straight as a pencil, her smile was all lipstick and no twinkle. Was something bothering her—being away from her older daughter, maybe? I lingered, Listening for Whispers. “She’s only going to be gone overnight, right, Mom?” But the moment I spoke, the crown of my head suddenly pulsed with familiar pain.
“That’s right.” Mom grinned and snapped her fingers. The sound sent waves of pain through my head, and with it a crunchy noise crackled through my mindscape, on and off like radio static: “Convenient…can’t…party…this year…Go…fun…”
Whoa. What the hell was happening? This was worse than just a headache. “Ma…someth…pening…me…” I could barely hear myself over the static.
Mom’s eyes looked worried as she put her hand on my shoulder. Her mouth opened and closed, but I couldn’t understand her reassurances.
“Help me,” I tried to say. “I can’t Hear you, I can’t Hear anything, it’s just noise.” My palms were now cold and wet with sweat. Icka’s warning ran through my head: “I’ve figured out why you’re getting all those headaches…. You’re about to turn
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