She looked up and the sadness fell awaylike dead petals. “Well they should be. This life is full of unpleasantness, which means it’s our job to root out the good stuff.” Thenshifting on the stoolto turn more toward me,sheasked, “Why on earth is poor Travis sleeping on the living room couch?”
Before I could respond about our visitors, shebarreledon. “What did you do to him? You are too hard on that boy. He doesn’t deserve you treating him like a dog all the time.”
“I don’t treat him like a dog,” I protested.
She shook her head and clucked. “You see how good he could be for you,soyou keep him atarm's lengthbutalwaysin kicking distance.”
Okay, now I was pissed. I wasn’t often angry with my grandma, but she just smacked my hot button and ontop ofa severe lack of sleep and an unwantedpregnancy, I was readyto blow in under twenty seconds.
“He is crashing here like a hobo, why do you treat him like he’s family?” I asked.
My gran’s mouth disappeared as her face became a mask of stern disappointment. “After all we’ve been through together, heisfamily,Krystan.”
I barked a laugh. “He’s not crazy enough to be in our family.”
She winced at that. I would have beensorry,but pregnancy hormones were pumping in my body, fueling the rage I tried to keep shoved way down deep.
Maybe this pregnancy scapegoat thing isn’t so bad?PregnantKrystancould probably get away withwaymore than drunkKrystanever could.
The thought immediately made mequeasy.
Her eyes glinted like steel. “You’re right,Travishasn’t stuck a knife in my heart the way the rest ofourfamily has done to me.” The stool scrapped back along the tile floor as she popped up then hobbled quickly outof the kitchen.
Her words slammed into me like car hitting at sixty miles an hour. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard her say those words. My mouth went dry.
The kettle began to whistle but I couldn’t release my grip on the edge of the counter. I imagined crushing it in my bare hands. Despite my efforts to bury myself indemon slaying, I still couldn’t keep the monster inside mefromrearing its ugly head up. More than ever, I knew what I had to do.
There was no way I was having this baby.
I was too dangerous.
Travis stepped into the kitchen, his bare feet slapping against the tile. Hescratchedat the sandy brown hair that stuck straight up, and his white shirt clung to his torso above his baggy black sweatpants.His raised arm lifted his shirt to reveal a band of taut abdomen.
“Yougonnaget that?” He said over the screaming kettle, eyeing me like I might blow next.
I didn’t answer. Instead I pushed past him, smothered by this house, by the fact I’d hurt my gran, by the pressure to save her house, by the terrible fact that Ireminded my gran of the worst thing to ever happen to our family.
I didn’t care that I was still in booty shorts and a tank top.Grabbing acoat, Ithrew it over my shoulders. The whistling kettlewent silent, then Travis was in the hall behind me, calling my name,but I couldn’tbe hererightnow.
The door let out a creaky squawk as I threw it open then Istormed out... and ranstraight into Phillip’s chest.
He steadied me by my shoulders. “Whoa there,” he said, his voice deep and reassuring. “Is this a bad time?”His eyes studiously took in my statebefore looking overmy shoulderat Travis then back at me as if trying to figure outsome kind of mathproblem.
I wanted to shove him to the ground and run, but instead I tapped my foot and snapped, “What do you want?” Whatever it was, Ipositiveit wouldn’t be important enough for me to stay trapped in this house.
“I didn’t have a chance to tell you yesterday, but I thinkI found the key.Ibelieve wehave a way tofinallyhelp Gregory Smith.”
Okay, except for that.
5
KrystanhelpedMr. Smithinto his jacket while Phillip and I waited at the door to his room.Emma’s dadwas compliant as always, easily slipping his arms into the coat asKrystandirected.It was weird seeing her demonstrate respect toward someone the way she did to Emma’s dad. I didn’t know the guy before his brains were scrambled, but he must have been something forKrystanto treat him the way she did.
Krystanwas a terrible food-put-togetherer, an impulsive party girl, butshe easily stepped into the roll asMr. Smith’s caretaker. I'd always thought her as selfish as she wasabrasive butwatching her encourage him to turn around so she could buttonup his coatup touched spots in me I hadn’t known existed when it came toKrystan. I occasionally saw glimpses of her tenderness toward hergran, but there was so much sharp sarcasm and ribbing between them it was almost as if they hadsome unspokenagreement to get never cross a line oftrue vulnerability. Though by the sharp tones I heard coming from the kitchen this morning,Krystanand Mrs.Ritsweren’t feeling terribly warm and fuzzy toward each otherright now.
I crossed my arms and shifted my weight to my other foot. “Soyou really think someone can undo what Master Ilsa did to Mr. Smith’s brain? I mean his brain is pudding, how do you undo...pudding?”
Phillip stood only an inch taller than me and hisfacialfeatures had such a striking resemblance to his son, Calan, that sometimes I tripped out looking at him.They both look like they could have had Greek statues made after them—masculine and smart at the same time.
