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I don’t sugarcoat it. “She’s going to use it to cause the biggest scandal she can and get herself more attention. Mom’s not going to keep your secret.Everyonewill know the truth, Gia. You’ll go through everything I went through but worse because we hid it the first time.
They’ll think you’re a liaranda manipulator as well as a killer.”
She looks absolutely horrified by the thought, stumbling and leaning against the tree trunk like the realization is a physical blow.
Maybe I’m being too mean; maybe I shouldn’t have laid it out so abruptly for her, but clearly sheltering Gia is only hurting her. Maybe Gia doesn’t make the best decisions, but I can’t hide things from her and expect her to act like she has all the pieces of the puzzle. If I’m really going away to college, Gia won’t have me around to look after her. I’m going to have to trust her to make her own decisions, but I can’t do that and also shelter her from the truth for her own good. The only person who will protect Gia like I would isGia, and she needsallthe facts to do that.
Gia stands from the tree, shaking her head. “Okay, but maybe . . . maybe I don’t have to tell her anything.
She must have changed since we last lived with her; she’ll still take me in even if I don’t tell her why. She’s our mom, she loves me.”
I pin her with a hard look.
“She’s our mom!” she repeats, as if trying to convince herself. “Of course she wants me there, even if she can’t use me to get famous.”
I thought the truth would hurt her, but unless she learns the hard way, she’s going to cling to these fantasies that idolize Mom, and that’s not reality.
With a defeated but firm tone, I finally say, “Then call her.”
Gia blinks in shock, and I even feel Jason turn to look at me briefly before resuming guard duty. But I’m so exhausted and over all of this. I’m tired of having to justify my actions and be the villain. If I have to shatter Gia’s illusions with a harsh dose of reality, then so be it.
She eyes me skeptically. “Call Mom?”
“Yeah, call her. Tell her you’re getting on a bus at nine o’clock tomorrow morning to come live with her. I’ll give you her number.”
Doubt flashes across Gia’s face for a moment before she squares her shoulders and doubles down on her misguided confidence. “Fine. You’re going to feel so stupid when you’re wrong about Mom. If I tell her I’m in trouble and I need her, she’ll come through for me.”
I don’t bother arguing because she’s going to learn the hard way soon enough. I only pull out my phone and read the number off as she types it into her own.
Gia holds the phone to her ear, and I step back and cross my arms against my chest, feeling my heart beating fast and furious against them. The woods around us fall silent as Gia waits, her breath shallow and rapid.
After what feels like an eternity, Gia frowns at the phone. “She sent me to voicemail.”
My voice is flat and emotionless when I say, “She must not answer unknown numbers. Text her and tell her it’s you.”
“Good idea. I’ll tell her it’s an emergency and I need help.”
Gia sends the text, and neither of us says anything until she does a double take at her phone. “Her read receipts are on, it says she read it. She’ll probably call me back any minute now.”
One minute turns to two, then three, then four, and after five minutes of us standing in silence and Gia staring at her phone, willing it to ring, she announces, “I’m going to call her back.”
She does, but only seconds later she glares at her phone like it personally offended her. “She sent me to voicemail again.” She calls again, then again, growing more and more agitated, but the results remain the same.
There’s no part of me that takes joy in hurting Gia, and I almost want to make some excuse to cover for Mom and force Gia to come home, but this has to happen.
I click Florence’s name on my phone and put the call on Speaker. It rings once, almost mockingly loud in this little wooded area, then Florence’s honeyed voice fills the space.
“Siena! My gorgeous, wonderful daughter!” She’s clearly at a party or something because there’s loud music and talking in the background, and she’s half yelling into the phone. But she must move somewhere quieter because I can hear her better when she says, “If you’re calling, that means you must’ve thought about my offer and realized it’s the best move for you. You and I are going to befamous, sweetie! You’ll see! Everyone’s going to be talking about Florence and her mini-me once Lincoln is done with us.”
Gia stands stock-still as she realizes what’s happened.
I want to yell at Mom for ignoring Gia’s text when it clearly said she’s in trouble and needs help, but I’m trying to prove a harsh point.
“No, Mom, I’m not agreeing to the documentary. I’m actually calling because I’m with Gia, and she’d like to speak with you.”
The pause is so long I’d think she hung up on me if I didn’t still hear the party.
“Gia?”
