Deadly Little Lies by Laurie Faria Stolarz

Author:Laurie Faria Stolarz [Stolarz, Laurie Faria]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction - Young Adult
Publisher: Disney Publishing Worldwide

32

Tears fill my eyes. I reach out to touch the lettering, wondering if it’s still wet, but it’s dry— except where droplets of snow have landed over some of the letters, making them look like dripping blood. I dip my finger into the snow and press down against more of the paint. A smear of red bleeds against my thumb.

I take a step back, slightly startled when I hear a car door slam. I rush to the gate and look out toward the street. It’s my parents.

I hurry back inside the house, lock the basement door, and scramble up the stairs before they even make it in.

“Hey, there,” Mom says, coming into the kitchen. “Did you find the banana soufflé for breakfast? I should have mentioned it on the note. I just made it this morning, but your dad had a hankering for rawaffles.”

“Pronounced rawfuls, taste more like awfuls; translation: raw waffles, made with dehydrated fruit and nuts.”

Dad peels off his coat and tosses it on the island. “I had a hankering for fat-laden French toast sopping with maple syrup and melted butter. I mean, who are they kidding with those tasteless disks?”

“Well, excuse me for looking out for your health,” Mom says. “Why don’t you just go ingest a tub of lard mixed with sugar and chewing tobacco?”

“It’d probably taste better than those rawaffles.”

“We need to talk,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.

“You bet we do,” he says. “I’m so tired of eating chicken feed and bird food.”

“Oh, God,” Mom says, checking her cell phone messages. Her hand clasps over her mouth.

“What now?” Dad asks.

“It’s Alexia,” she says. “Her psychiatrist wants to schedule a meeting with the three of us.”

“The three of us? As in you, me, and Dad?”

“No.” She closes up her phone. “A meeting with Aunt Alexia, the psychiatrist, and me.”

“So, that’s a good thing, right?” I ask.

“Right,” she says, staring off into space.

Dad goes and wraps his arms around her from behind, telling her everything will be fine. “It’ll be therapeutic for the both of you,” he says.

But my mother appears less than convinced and ends up swatting him away. She absentmindedly opens the fridge, takes out a jar of almond butter, and begins to feed her funk. Meanwhile, I wipe a clay smear from the side of my face, not really knowing what to say. Or what to do.

I end up sneaking off downstairs to cover my horse-in-progress with a giant piece of plastic. Then I dress in layers and head out on the longest walk I can manage, considering the frigid temperature outside.

After a good hour-and-ten minute hike, I find myself at Kimmie’s house. She pulls me inside and leads me upstairs while her parents continue to fight in the living room.

“Don’t mind the drama,” she says, closing her bedroom door behind us. “They’ve been going at it since last night. Something about him feeling suffocated and my mom’s obsessive need to control. I don’t know. I sort of lost track around the time he called her a puppeteer and himself a Raggedy Andy doll.

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