Chapter 9

Three Maples Street is a prestigious part of town on a green hill, where expensive cottages sit on large lots, blue pools shine with clear water, and respectable people live. A street where no one meets anyone or sees anyone, because everyone is busy with themselves.

I still haven’t fully gotten used to this place or to the house itself, but over the summer I managed to make peace with the idea that I would spend my last school year here before leaving for college, and I don’t shy away quite so much from the expensive surroundings anymore.

I ride up to the two-story gray cottage with big white windows, turn onto the narrow side path, and leave my bike in the backyard. My parents’ car is parked in front of the garage, which means they’re home.

Taking my bag off my shoulder, I climb onto the porch and push open the front door. Once inside, I head through the wide hall toward the stairs so I can go up to my room, but when I notice Dad in the kitchen, I turn toward him and slow at the threshold, tiredly leaning my shoulder against the wooden archway.

“Oh, Ashley!” Dad has already noticed me and looks around. He’s standing at the stove, stirring something in a saucepan. With his familiar smile, he asks, “Back already?”

“Hi, Dad. Yeah, I’m home.”

“Great. I made this paella with roasted chicken for my girls—it’s finger-licking good. Go wash your hands, and we’ll have lunch. Kate should be back any minute.”

Tall, solid Brian Wilson brought confidence and calm with him even into Patricia’s house. I always felt protected and safe beside him, as if he were a wall sheltering me from storm winds. When I was younger, it was so easy to walk up to him and simply hug him. To jump onto his back or hang from his neck and talk, talk about anything I wanted… Back then I didn’t know anything yet about adults’ private lives, or that love wasn’t only for a child, but for a woman too. Or that disappointment and jealousy have sharp little claws that can shred your soul if you give in to them.

Dad isn’t alone in the kitchen. His wife is with him. While he cooks, Patricia, dressed for home in an elegant white blouse and satin pants, sits at the table in front of her work laptop, typing something. When she sees me, she looks up from her work and says hello:

“Hi, Ashley. So, how was your day?”

How? I don’t want to remember, but I don’t want to lie either. At home, I prefer to be myself completely. If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t be here.

“Do you want the honest answer?”

“Of course.”

“It sucked.” I toss my hair back from my forehead and give my stepmother a crooked smile. “I’d like to say it could’ve been worse, but it couldn’t.”

I shrug and step away from the archway. Going to the sink, I wash my hands and rinse my face. The kitchen smells pleasantly of freshly cooked food, and I breathe in the hot aroma with real pleasure:

“Mmm, smells good, Dad. I can tell the chicken turned out amazing. I’m so hungry it’s scary. I think I won’t wait for Kate. You two can have lunch with her without me, okay?”

I go to the cabinet, take out a glass, and pour myself orange juice. I put paella on a plate. With a practiced motion, I twist my hair into a knot at the back of my head, take a few slices of bread, and sit down at the table. Today I’ve had enough poisoning from my stepsister’s bile to ruin my lunch too. No thanks. I plan to be alone soon.

My parents are acting strange—cheerful and wary at the same time, as if they know something but aren’t completely sure whether I know it too. Dad asks about school and my friends again. He tries joking that one bad day is only a number on the calendar, something you cross out and forget. The main thing is for his girl not to make mistakes and to keep looking toward her future with hope. A future where, if I ever want to look back on today, everything will definitely seem funny and stupid to me.

Because I’m his smart girl and I understand that, right?

Pat turns out to be more direct, though it clearly isn’t easy for her.

After a few minutes of silence, my stepmother closes the laptop and pushes it aside.

“Ashley, please don’t think I’m excusing Catherine,” she begins seriously, focusing all her attention on me. “I understand perfectly well that my daughter behaved badly toward you. I tried to talk to her when I found out about her seeing Sean, but unfortunately, I can’t stop all of it. She has a difficult personality, Howard indulged a great deal while Catherine lived with him, and in some ways you two are very different.”

Patricia exhales decisively, folding her hands together in front of her and choosing her words:

“If you want, we can discuss all of this together today. You shouldn’t be alone or think Brian and I don’t support you. We do.”

I don’t think that. I just want to forget everything and keep moving toward the goal I’ve set. When you stand still, problems don’t go away. They stay right where they are, an unbearable weight. If I have to run myself ragged to get rid of them, then I’m ready.

I take a sip of juice and set the glass aside. I look at my stepmother:

“No, I don’t want to. It’s okay, Pat. Yes, it turned out I was the last one to know everything. But first of all, Renton and I are already over, and second, if it wasn’t Kate, it would be someone else. I don’t need a guy who thinks neither I nor my trust mean anything. I’ll definitely get through it, don’t worry. It’s just… ugh.” I sigh tiredly, looking away and returning to my food. “This day has to end first so I can forget it.”

“That’s the spirit, sweetheart.” Dad is suddenly beside me. He bends down and kisses the top of my head. “That boy isn’t worth it. I’m sure Kate will soon realize for herself that she didn’t make the best choice.”

Kate will realize it? Ha. At what point am I supposed to snort? I’ve gotten to know her well enough to be sure that thoughts filed under “self-reflection” are never born in Catherine Harding’s doll head. And regret is even less familiar to her.

When she walks into the kitchen, dragging that stupid pink pig backpack behind her, she looks very pleased and happy.

“Hi, family!” she says to them, flicking her ponytail. Circling the table, she drops the backpack onto the chair beside me.

For a while now, she’s been fond of invading my personal space.

“Don’t even think about it.” I point my fork at her without looking her way. “This seat is taken. Or I’ll eat somewhere else.”

“Like I care.” She leaves the backpack on the chair, but goes around the table herself and sits across from me, beside her mother. Grabbing a piece of fresh mango from the table and stuffing it into her mouth, she asks, “So, they already told on me? Well, how do you like the news, little sister? Yes, Sean and I are dating, and it’s serious. Isn’t that great?”

“I don’t care. You deserve each other.”

“Oh, we really do.” Kate smirks. “He’s such a sweetheart and such a good boy, I can’t even. He followed me around all day like a puppy and kept texting me like he had nothing else to do. Talked about our next date. Want to know where we’re going on Saturday?”

“No. I’m not interested.”