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“Helping me.” Now it’s my turn to scoff. “Okay, so you did it one time. One time and now you want me to do as you say. I knew there had to be a catch.”
Her eyes widen as she pulls a blonde strand away from her open mouth. “One time! You think I helped you just one time!” Her hands attach to both hips. “Sweetheart, your life would be misery if I hadn’t stepped in to rescue you.”
“Misery?” I gawk.
“Girls like me use you for snob practice,” she states firmly, “We try out different ways to reduce nannies, waitstaff, personal assistants, and future stepchildren to tears. We spend six years reducing girls like you to bawling wrecks of snot.”
I roll my lips with my teeth and seethe. But what Charlotte said makes sense. No girls have picked on me, and I had been expecting it. They watch me closely, but they keep their talons to themselves.
“Okay,” I reply, jerking my head, “So, thank you again. Now, what do you want?”
Charlotte plops down on the couch and rests her head back with a sigh. The upholstery was once bright yellow, judging from the seams, but now it’s a mustard color with stains. I’m shocked she sits on it, but it doesn’t bother me. Quietly, I sit down beside her, and bizarrely, I feel like we’re equals, but I don’t know why.
“Hey,” I nudge her knee with mine. “What do you want?”
A tiny sigh escapes her before she digs into her Louis Vuitton purse and pulls out a piece of paper. Charlotte glances at it and frowns slightly before handing it to me. It’s a printout of a photograph that’s been blown up to fit the letter-size page—two little girls standing in front of a large white house on a green lawn that’s so huge it spreads out of the picture.
One of the girls is blonde, with her hair tied back in a ribbon, and dressed in every shade of pink you could imagine. The other girl has dark hair, the same color as mine, with a Snoopy T-shirt and jeans. Their arms are draped around each other as they smile into the camera. They point at their smiles as they pose.
I know that T-shirt.
“Look familiar?” she asks.
“That’s me,” I say, pointing, “But who is this?”
Charlotte nudges my knee harder. “It’s me, dummy.” Charlotte rolls her eyes as my mouth hits the floor and bounces shut again. “You don’t remember me at all?” she asks.
Stammering, I stare at the smiling blonde girl in the picture. “I remember a girl, but I was in kindergarten or something. You can’t be her. This girl looks happy.”
“I’m her.” Charlotte looks irritated as she sits up straight. “At first, I didn’t recognize you, but I recognized your name—Astrid. I looked through some old photo albums in my dad’s study, and there you were. You still have the same smile.”
I stare at the picture again and wonder where it was taken. I remember the old school I used to go to, not that well, except it was nicer. Random questions are piling up in my head like snowflakes gathering in a blizzard. I don’t know which one I should ask. So I ask the first one I can express clearly.
“So, how do we know one another?”
Charlotte shrugs like the answer should be apparent. “We’re sisters.”
My world tilts, but I’m not moving. My eyes widen as I sink back dizzily onto the dirty couch, and Charlotte’s explanation hits me harder than a knockout punch. Sisters? Me and Little-Miss-Owns-the-World?
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“Half-sisters,” she clarifies quickly. “Obviously, we share a father. You used to visit our house in Rockingham until my mother figured it out and requested you and your mother leave. After that, I never saw you, and you were never mentioned. But I remembered your name and asked Mom about you. She warned me to never ask again. Well, I did and got a slap in the face, so I learned.”
I look down at the picture again, and I’m surprised I’m not shaking. “I can’t believe this.”
Charlotte sits back and tugs on a piece of her hair. “I didn’t think you would.”
“Why are you even telling me this?” My voice rises in anger as I ready myself to take aim at the messenger.
“People will find out, and you are a reflection on me,” she replies coolly and then looks me up and down the same way Dr. Rawlins did. “Bryce, Pierce, Justin, and probably Wyatt are using you. You’re already getting a skanky reputation. You’re going to get used and burned by those jerks. You were a sweet kid, and I liked you once, Astrid. Someone needed to warn you.”
I ignore her warning because right now, it can’t compare to this. “So, my father is your father, which means I have your last name? Howland?”
“Not legally.” She scoffs, twirling her hair.
“Did he talk to you about me?” I ask, “Did he tell you why he’s sending me to Stonehaven?”
Charlotte stops fidgeting and faces me. “No, he doesn’t talk to me in that way. My mother’s ill. Maybe she wants to make amends. I don’t know. Look, I told you what I know because your sordid reputation can tarnish my spotless one.”
“So much for sisterly love,” I reply.
Charlotte suddenly stands up and smoothes down her skirt while glancing at a large gray spot on the old cushion. “Love is a rare commodity at Stonehaven, Astrid,” she replies, “Remember that and be careful.”
Charlotte steps out of the room in silence, and I follow, but I don’t wait for her to lock up. I’m out the basement door and running across campus as if my past is chasing me.
I don’t know if I should cry or scream, so I keep running until I reach the edge of the school property. Stonehaven is surrounded by a tall wrought iron fence made of long black spiked poles that are impossible to climb. Breathless with frustration, I grip them and hold myself up off the ground as it builds. Soon, a scream tears apart my lungs as I burst into shaking sobs.
My father has been nothing in my life. Never met him and didn’t care to know him. He was an anonymous sperm donor as far as I was concerned, and I’m not sure how I feel about knowing his identity now. I walk back onto the trail and slump down onto a boulder that decorates the path. My gaze blurs into a haziness that drifts down and sucks away my last bit of energy. My father’s a wealthy doctor, and there has to be a reason why he’s back in our lives after thirteen years. Rich or poor, people are always the same. No matter what they have, they want what you have. Only I don’t know what I’ve got, but Mom might.
