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It was all he needed to hear, because he was gone as soon as the words left my mouth.
I heard him peel out of the driveway a second later.
I stayed frozen for a moment and then cursed. I was still in my bikini. I had left my purse at Sers, with my cellphone inside. And my car was at Tray’s.
I was stranded, in my own home.
*
As one of my lessons of survival, I learned to stay away from drugs. They were like locusts. They were everywhere, presented as candy. The truth: they were poison.
Drugs had the power to take families away; they just ripped through them and left them in pieces. I’ve witnessed it many times in families that I’ve been placed in, but most recently, with Brian.
When he used, I’d bathe him and clean up his vomit. And I took him to rehab. I had to take him four times, until it finally stuck.
I’ve done a lot of bad stuff, even since I moved in with the Matthews—when I had taken their name.
But there’s one thing I want, without a doubt: to stay in this family.
And so that was why I was in Mandy’s room, packing her bags.
Three hours later, I heard voices, so I grabbed her bags and took ‘em downstairs. This didn’t need to be a drawn-out process.
They were in the kitchen, laughing, when I set them at the end of the stairs. I looked up and met Mandy’s gaze.
“What are you doing? Those are my bags,” Mandy asked, confused, reaching to fill a glass with water.
“Oh! She packed for you,” Jasmine murmured, sounding touched. “That’s sweet of your sister.”
“Taryn, you didn’t have to do that. Really. Now I’m going to have to repack whatever you put in there.”
I still hadn’t said anything, my eyes were flat and void of emotion.
Mandy misunderstood my look. “Seriously, Taryn. The cheerleaders’ bus leaves early, but I’ll have time to do it tonight.”
“Why’d you take off?” Tristan asked, sitting at the kitchen table, curving her legs gracefully underneath her, a glass of ice water in front of her.
“Yeah, no doubt,” Mandy remarked, pulling out a Diet Coke. “You left all your stuff with me. It’s on the table, by the way. But seriously, you took off and then Tray took off.”
“You guys have a fight?” Tristan asked, not sounding sorry.
I took a deep breath and said quietly, somber, “Tell ‘em to leave, Mandy.”
“What?” She laughed, reaching for a glass.
“Tell your friends to leave. Now.”
“Ookay,” she joked, “what are you on?”
“Mark Jenkins,” I announced, seeing Mandy freeze in place. I added, “Tell ‘em to leave.”
Her eyes moved from me, to the luggage and then to her friends.
“Tell. Them. To. Leave,” I ordered.
“Seriously, you can be such a bitch.” Jasmine laughed, sitting opposite Tristan. “It’s kind of getting funny.”
“Mandy,” I barked.
