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Michelle appeared about to snap back a hot retort, then thought better of it. “She’s your daughter. You deal with her,” she said, then turned and, pink high-heeled slippers clipping in a furious staccato rhythm, she hurried into the sanctity of “her” kitchen. Bianca glared after the woman her father had married. An airhead, that’s what Mom called her, but Bianca wasn’t so sure.
“Okay, what’s going on?” he demanded.
“I just want to go to hear a Christmas concert tonight,” she complained, crossing her arms under her breasts and pouting.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why?”
Her father looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, then launched into the same tired arguments she’d already heard from Michelle. The weather was bad. She was too young. Jeremy was already MIA and in big trouble and blah, blah, blah. That was the trouble with being the second one, the first ruined everything.
236
Lisa Jackson
“. . . so if Chris wants to come over here and . . . hang out
. . . play games or something
. . . that
would be okay.”
“Play games?” She rolled her eyes. What did he think she was? Seven?
“Okay, then watch TV or . . .” He looked to the kitchen as if hoping Michelle would appear and offer up some kind of really cool idea to help him out of this, and Bianca realized her father didn’t understand her at all. “Come on, honey. Give Chris a call and see if he’ll come by. I should get to meet him. Maybe we can have pizza or . . . spaghetti . . . or . . .”
“Pizza. We can do pizza.” Michelle stuck her head into the doorway. “I’ve got some in the freezer and extra pepperoni and olives in the pantry.”
“Whoopee.” Bianca twirled her finger beside her head.
Scowling, Michelle disappeared again.
Dad got all grumpy. “You’re staying in. And so is Jeremy, when I track him down. Until we find out what’s happened to your mom, I want you both to stick close. Got it?”
She fought a new spate of dumb tears.
“Got it, pumpkin?”
“Got it!” She only hoped that he never, ever, used that dumb nickname for her around Chris. It was just stupid and gross. She marched into her bedroom, slammed the door, and flopped down on the bed. Sniffing back tears, she found her cell phone and speed-dialed Jeremy. Maybe he could get her out of here.
She’d called him all day and he hadn’t picked up, so she texted him:
CHOSEN TO DIE
237
Where R U? Get me outta here. NOW.
She thought about adding more info, then just sent the text and prayed that he would arrive. Jeremy bugged the crap out of her. He was just such a dipwad most of the time, but he was her brother and he knew what a pain Dad could be.
Bianca had always thought Michelle was okay, but she was changing her mind fast. What was this putting down rules and playing like she was Mom? What a bunch of garbage. Mom could be a real pain, but at least she was her mother. Michelle trying to act all parental and stuff, it was just wrong. Bianca rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She thought of her mother and her insides turned to ice at the thought that Mom was in real trouble.
Then she tried calling Chris.
Maybe he would come over . . . It was kinda lame, the whole pizza thing, but she needed him right now.
Really needed him.
