My Perfect Daughter by Sarah A. Denzil

Author:Sarah A. Denzil [Denzil, Sarah A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

NOW

The heavy air of the garage settles around us. Maddie shuffles in her seat, raising one knee to rest against the dashboard. I lift a heavy arm and tap the ignition switch. Next to me, I sense Maddie watching almost curiously. She knows I’m close to tears, and she isn’t good with emotion. She doesn’t know how to give comfort. But soon, her hand rests softly on my shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mum.”

Mum. God, what that word does to me. It tears my heart in half and pulverises my insides. The most exquisite ecstasy and the most exquisite pain in three letters.

I regard my daughter, truly scrutinise her, every inch of her face. She’s beautiful. Perhaps not classically beautiful, but the strength of her features and that penetrating stare make her striking.

She attempts to read my thoughts. “It’s not going to happen to me, you know. No one could hurt me. I’m too strong. Like I said, I’d kill anyone who tries.”

“Maddie, don’t say things like that.” I sigh.

“I won’t.” She shrugs. “Not to anyone else anyway. But you know. You’ve killed someone. You know what it takes to survive.”

“No, that’s not… That’s not what the world is like. I know what I did to your father happened when you were very young, and I know you think about it a lot, but what I did wasn’t normal—”

“I’m not an idiot, Mum. I do know that. Every single therapist likes to remind me of what’s normal and what isn’t.” She juts out her chin, back to teenage sullenness.

“Then why do you keep talking about life like it’s a fight to the death?” I squeeze her hand. “Tell me about your therapy session today.”

“All right. Dr Boateng asked me about my week. I told her I missed hanging out with Riya. Then we talked about Katherine Sutton and how I shouldn’t have pushed her into the road. Then, you know… Phoebe’s death and everything going on at school.”

“You mean the bullying,” I prompt, remembering what Angie Starling told me outside the shop.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your locker?”

She scowls. “How do you know about my locker?”

“I bumped into Miss Starling while you were in therapy. She mentioned it.”

“Oh.” Maddie’s voice quietens. She shakes her head, as though shaking a thought out of her mind. “Yeah, I guess she was around when it happened. She, like, talked to me and stuff.”

“What do you mean?”

“She helped me clean it up and told me not to worry about the people who did it.” Her gaze drifts to the window, directed, pointedly, away from me. That’s not like Maddie, she’s usually extremely direct.

“Do you know Miss Starling well?” I ask.

She turns back to me, her eyebrows lifted. “No. She just helped me this one time.”

*

News of Riya’s fate ripples through Penry, and I think many of us hug our children tighter in the days that follow. I pull on my big girl’s pants and take flowers, a card, and a casserole to the Shahs’ house.

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