All These Lives by Wylie Sarah

Author:Wylie, Sarah [Wylie, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)
Published: 2012-06-04T22:00:00+00:00

18

Saturday morning brings my father standing over me, nudging me awake. Today is the makeup callback.

I tell him I’d rather stay in bed and let it swallow me whole. He laughs and squeezes my shoulder. “Come on, sleepyhead.”

Still asleep, I trudge into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. We use Colgate, not Whitaden, around here. Since I don’t want things to be awkward at the callback, I decide to forgo toothpaste and brushing entirely.

Thanks to the bangs, the only visible reminder of the accident is the cast around my left arm. Mom spoke to Brody Richardson about my most unfortunate accident, and since they won’t actually be filming the commercial for another two months, they’re willing to overlook the broken wrist.

I walk all the way across the hall. The door to Jena’s room is wide open, the torn pieces of paper still hanging limply there, skulls without bones and wordless warning signs.

When I go in, there is no movement, no sound. Even though the door is open, her room is too warm, smells like sweat and dirty laundry. I see a lump in her bed.

Finally, she turns from the wall to face me and I hear myself breathing again. “Where are you going?” she asks.

I can only see her face; the rest is blanket.

“The callback.”

“Good luck,” she says. I nod, holding on to the doorknob. I mean to pull it toward me to shut the door, but I’m frozen.

Something is wrong.

“See you when you get back,” she says. I know that’s supposed to tell me she’s okay.

I shut the door.

“Hey, there you are!” Dad calls from the foot of the stairs. “I made you some coffee.”

“Coffee stains teeth,” I say. “You’re trying to sabotage me, aren’t you?”

Dad laughs, winking at me. “Don’t tell your mother.” I take the mug from him, bringing it to my lips.

“Where is she?” I ask. “Mom, I mean.”

He glances up the stairs. “Asleep. You ready?”

My fingers tingle and my heart sneezes. Dad acts appropriately enthusiastic as we walk to the garage and get into the car, but I still can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. It’s nine a.m. on Saturday. The only way Mom is sleeping is if she’s sedated.

But maybe she is.

I fold myself into the car and try to shut off the crappy brain stuff—the fear, the thoughts. I delete all of it.

Dad doesn’t try to make conversation. He presses play on the CD in the car, a Phantom of the Opera soundtrack, which my mother had to have left in there. His fingers drum on the steering wheel as he stares out of the glass, far into a darkness I can’t see.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“There’s nothing to worry about.” He gives me a tired smile. “I promise. Coffee makes me fidgety.”

I don’t believe it’s just the coffee. “If they’re planning to put her down while I’m gone…”

“What?” Dad frowns. “Dani, you can’t talk … You can’t say stuff like that. People will take it the wrong way.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.