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“Look on the bright side,” she says. “You’ll be with your friends again.”
I sigh in defeat and try to think of a way to get ahold of a cell phone fast. Leaving here was not the plan, but maybe this home will be one of those like Isaiah and Noah’s and won’t care where I actually live. West, Isaiah, and another friend of theirs have an apartment. I bet they’ll let me crash.
* * *
Mrs. Collins has a nice car and she drives too fast, especially for someone who doesn’t care to get where they are going in a hurry. She takes a right when I expected her to take a left and I glance around.
She peeks at me from the corner of her eye. “You know this area?”
“Rachel lives around here.” That will make bailing quick easier if the place is awful. If Mrs. Collins isn’t lying and the place is halfway decent then it will make visiting her a cinch.
“I should warn you, this family is very particular. They have certain expectations of their children and will expect you to follow suit.”
Great. Control freaks. “You realize I met Isaiah when he was riffling through a Dumpster, right? That was when he was in a foster home.”
Those rare brief storm clouds. “Yes, you’ve told me this before.”
“Just making clear what my expectations are.” I focus on happy thoughts. Regardless of whatever rules they set, I’ll be able to see Logan. “What if this doesn’t work out?”
“I think it will.” Mrs. Collins makes a right and all the air is sucked out of my body.
“Did you take a wrong turn?”
She comes to a halt at a guard gate and when she explains who she is and where she’s going, I can’t decide if I’m going to cry or die or be happy. When the gate to the neighborhood lifts, Mrs. Collins speeds and for me it’s not fast enough. With every house we pass, my heart pounds harder and harder and when I see the house, I’m shaking.
“Are you for real? Or is this a joke? Are you shitting me?”
“The language is something you need to work on, Abby. Mr. and Mrs. Young won’t appreciate it. You didn’t speak nearly as foully when we first met, but it got worse as you continued to stay in the center.”
I toss my hands up in a she-wins. I’ll go mute if this is for real. “West and Rachel’s parents are going to be my foster parents? I mean, do they know who I am and what I did and how I hung out with their children before I was arrested?”
“Yes, and you’ll also know that they were heartbroken when they found out the truth, but after many family meetings, they came to this decision.” Mrs. Collins eases her car in front of the sprawling home and places it into Park. “You’ll return to Eastwick in January. I work there and you’ll be seeing me twice a week before school, and I’m serious on the expectations. The Youngs are risking a lot by taking you in. Don’t embarrass them. Don’t embarrass me.”
I rake a hand through my hair and gather it at the nape of my neck. Before I was shot, I had dinner here a couple of times a week. I spent nights with Rachel. I played video games with her twin, Ethan. I used to pretend that I was one of them and this was my home.
My lower lip trembles and I suck in air to control myself. “I swear to you, I will not screw this up.”
“Good,” she says. “Now, be prepared. I hear there is a surprise party waiting inside.”
Abby
“We have dinner together as a family every Friday,” Mrs. Young says as if I’m not already aware of this. Before being shot, I ate dinner with the Youngs several times a week, but I smile and nod, hoping that the expression looks as sincere as I want it to be.
Shock is what I’m feeling on the inside. This mansion...this palace...this is now my home and I just might be okay. My blood tingles and my hands shake and my face is hot. Yes, I’m in shock.
Mrs. Young and I are walking up the stairs together and I send down a pleading glance to the massive foyer below where Logan waits. He’s been by my side since the moment I walked in to find all my friends here. He’s just as I remember him. Tall, broad-shouldered, a bit dangerous and all mine.
I mouth, “Help me,” and he only shrugs. Mrs. Young was insistent that she give me this tour alone.
At the top of the stairs we go left instead of right—away from her master bedroom and away from Rachel’s room. We pass West’s old room and Rachel’s twin Ethan’s room and then come to a stop at a closed door.
“This used to be Jack’s room,” Mrs. Young says. Jack is one of Rachel’s way older brothers. He’s an adult now with his own place. Can’t imagine him returning anytime soon. “And now it will be yours.”
Mrs. Young is a beautiful woman. Blond hair and blue eyes just like Rachel, and it causes me to want to pop out of my own skin when she folds her hands in front of her, sucks in a deep breath, and avoids eye contact. Oh, God, please don’t let her have changed her mind.
“I’m sorry,” I say. Offense is the best defense, right? “For lying to you. About how I originally came to know Rachel and then about how I was a drug dealer and I messed up, but I’m more than that. I’m going to be more than that and if you’ll just continue to offer me this chance I promise I will not screw this up.”
“I was in love with Denny once,” she blurts and I shut the hell up. “But you know that, don’t you?”
