an old copy of The Exorcist at the library. It was so tattered that she’d shoved it into her backpack and walked out with it, convincing herself that nobody would miss it.It was just a ratty old paperback, too worn-out to be of use to anyone. That book was her summer reading, perfect for stormy nights.
The majority of her things were still in her room in New York. She hoped that her mom wouldn’t decide they had to leave the house in Briarwood—Heidi’s place was within walking distance and her school was only a couple of blocks away. But eight weeks in Washington was a long time, and she’d brought enough with her to turn her space into a livable bedroom. She didn’t want to think about the fact that this place may very well become her father’s permanent home. Yet if she was going to be bouncing back and forth between Briarwood and Pier Pointe, she had to make her bedroom comfortable. Her parents must have thought so, too, otherwise they would have argued that she had packed too many things for such a short trip.
With her pajamas cold and wet against her skin, she tore open one of the suitcases that had made it out of the truck the night before. It housed the clothes her mother had deemed vacation-appropriate. Suspiciously, most of those vacation-appropriate selections were the clothes her mother hated—black band T-shirts, tattered jeans. Vee imagined her closet back home was perfectly respectable now, not a shred of her dark period in sight. Pulling out a shirt and pants, she made her way to the bathroom next door.
The bathroom was hideous—pastel blue as far as the eye could see. But Vee had been sharing a bathroom with her parents since she could count to three. This bathroom may have been super-ugly, but at least it was hers. Stepping into what she’d already dubbed in her mind as the “blue room,” she shut the door behind her and peeled off her soaked pj pants, dropping them into the sink with a plop.
Uncle Mark yelled something downstairs—an exclamation of distress. Vee pictured him carrying a box that was either way too bigor way too heavy. Her dad replied with a laugh, and she smiled to herself as she pulled her wet sleep shirt over her head and replaced it with a dry one. But her smile was short-lived.
She liked seeing her father happy, yet she couldn’t help but wonder just what he had to be happy about. Neither he nor her mom had said much about their separation, but she knew they were going to get a divorce. Bouncing between coasts would become the norm. She’d get to live in two separate houses—one where her dad would be lonely all by himself, and one where Kurt Murphy hung around like a plague. Unless her mom decided to move in with Kurt. Oh my God. She’d just about die if that happened. Living under Kurt’s roof would mean she had to respect him. How was she supposed to respect a guy who was responsible for tearing her parents’ relationship apart? For ruining her life?
And then there was her social life. Would her dad expect her to spend every summer in Pier Pointe? What would that do to her relationships back in New York? Or, worse, what would happen if she met someone she liked here and couldn’t see them for nine months out of the year?
She stared into the mirror of the medicine cabinet and narrowed her eyes. Maybe she was part of the problem. The brooding. The attitude that infuriated her mother. She had rebelled against her parents’ constant fighting by putting on a cold and callous disguise. She’d hidden herself away as a form of protection. But perhaps it was her very hiding that had brought Mr. and Mrs. Graham to this point. Now her mother loathed Vee’s dad so much that only an entire country separating them would do.
Vee turned her eyes away while a familiar pang of shame scratched at her brain. Tugging on a dry pair of undies before pulling on her jeans, she stared at her sopping top and pants lying in the sink. She hadn’t seen a clothes dryer in the
The majority of her things were still in her room in New York. She hoped that her mom wouldn’t decide they had to leave the house in Briarwood—Heidi’s place was within walking distance and her school was only a couple of blocks away. But eight weeks in Washington was a long time, and she’d brought enough with her to turn her space into a livable bedroom. She didn’t want to think about the fact that this place may very well become her father’s permanent home. Yet if she was going to be bouncing back and forth between Briarwood and Pier Pointe, she had to make her bedroom comfortable. Her parents must have thought so, too, otherwise they would have argued that she had packed too many things for such a short trip.
With her pajamas cold and wet against her skin, she tore open one of the suitcases that had made it out of the truck the night before. It housed the clothes her mother had deemed vacation-appropriate. Suspiciously, most of those vacation-appropriate selections were the clothes her mother hated—black band T-shirts, tattered jeans. Vee imagined her closet back home was perfectly respectable now, not a shred of her dark period in sight. Pulling out a shirt and pants, she made her way to the bathroom next door.
The bathroom was hideous—pastel blue as far as the eye could see. But Vee had been sharing a bathroom with her parents since she could count to three. This bathroom may have been super-ugly, but at least it was hers. Stepping into what she’d already dubbed in her mind as the “blue room,” she shut the door behind her and peeled off her soaked pj pants, dropping them into the sink with a plop.
Uncle Mark yelled something downstairs—an exclamation of distress. Vee pictured him carrying a box that was either way too bigor way too heavy. Her dad replied with a laugh, and she smiled to herself as she pulled her wet sleep shirt over her head and replaced it with a dry one. But her smile was short-lived.
She liked seeing her father happy, yet she couldn’t help but wonder just what he had to be happy about. Neither he nor her mom had said much about their separation, but she knew they were going to get a divorce. Bouncing between coasts would become the norm. She’d get to live in two separate houses—one where her dad would be lonely all by himself, and one where Kurt Murphy hung around like a plague. Unless her mom decided to move in with Kurt. Oh my God. She’d just about die if that happened. Living under Kurt’s roof would mean she had to respect him. How was she supposed to respect a guy who was responsible for tearing her parents’ relationship apart? For ruining her life?
And then there was her social life. Would her dad expect her to spend every summer in Pier Pointe? What would that do to her relationships back in New York? Or, worse, what would happen if she met someone she liked here and couldn’t see them for nine months out of the year?
She stared into the mirror of the medicine cabinet and narrowed her eyes. Maybe she was part of the problem. The brooding. The attitude that infuriated her mother. She had rebelled against her parents’ constant fighting by putting on a cold and callous disguise. She’d hidden herself away as a form of protection. But perhaps it was her very hiding that had brought Mr. and Mrs. Graham to this point. Now her mother loathed Vee’s dad so much that only an entire country separating them would do.
Vee turned her eyes away while a familiar pang of shame scratched at her brain. Tugging on a dry pair of undies before pulling on her jeans, she stared at her sopping top and pants lying in the sink. She hadn’t seen a clothes dryer in the
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