AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A trigger.
Mom said, “Ape, why don’t you go upstairs and get dressed.”
I stalled, not sure I wanted to leave Mom alone with this.
“Go ahead,” she said, a false sense of cheer in her voice as she shut her computer and put it in a drawer.
I backed away from the kitchen, knowing arguing would make it worse, and started up the stairs.
Just as I reached the third stair, I heard Dad’s rising voice, Mom’s hushed murmurs as she tried to soothe him. At the seventh stair, I heard the crack of plastic on tile. We knew better than to buy breakable dishes now.
I covered my mouth to hold back my cry. This wasn’t fair. None of it was. Not to Dad or Mom or me.
When I crested the stairs, another crash sounded, and I flinched. Quickly, I changed into my new school uniform: a navy pleated skirt, light blue button down, and a navy blazer to match. I squeezed into my navy stockings and black leather shoes, then grabbed my makeup bag and backpack.
I waited at the top of the stairs, trying to get a sense of what was going on downstairs. A door slammed, shaking the house, and then it was quiet. My ears perked for any further sound, any argument. Hopefully this was the end—the part where Dad went to his room and watched TV to cool down. He and mom hadn’t shared a room since his injury.
Mom came to the bottom of the stairs, holding a towel to her hand.
My heart squeezed. “Did he hurt you?” Usually Dad didn’t direct his anger at us, but if he’d injured Mom...
She shook her head. “I pinched my hand on the drawer when I was putting my computer away. I’m fine, honey.” She waved her joined hands, signaling me to come downstairs. I tiptoed as quietly as I could, the leather soles of my shoes seeming to scream against the modern metal stairs.
As I got closer, I could see the moisture in my mom’s eyes. The wrinkles and dark circles no amount of makeup could hide. These last few years had aged her beyond comprehension.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She sniffed, avoiding my gaze by reaching into her pocket with her uninjured hand. Pulling out a twenty, she said, “I’ll pack you a lunch tomorrow. Promise.”
I nodded, holding back tears of my own. “Maybe go work at a coffee shop today?”
She glanced over her shoulder toward the bedroom. It was hard for her to leave him alone, but that’s why we had home cameras installed. “I’ll try.”
She wouldn’t.
But it was a lie I needed to hear to get me out the door. “I’ll see you after school.”
“Actually, the Pfanstiels are hoping you’ll walk Heidi twice a day. Apparently, she does a lot better with more exercise.”
Before I could protest, she walked me to the front door, handing me my keys from the rack. “Have a great day, Ape. This school is going to be something special for you. I can feel it.”
No matter how much I disagreed, I gave her a quick hug and walked to my car.
Since I didn’t know the town well enough yet, I turned on directions on my phone and followed them, only stopping at a gas station to apply a coat of makeup since I’d been in too much of a rush to do it at home. I was already big—putting on a face of makeup helped me blend in.
I drove until I reached an ornate building. It was intimidating—all brick walls and stone pillars and fancy cars in the parking lot.
My last school in Kansas wasn’t anywhere near this fancy. It had been a basic high school with more kids than chairs in the building. Only a few came from rich families—in fact, most of my peers had picked on the students driving these kinds of vehicles to class.
But now I was one of the “rich kids.” This car wasn’t brand new, but it was from this decade with not a scratch in the paint or an imperfection in the upholstery. Mom said I deserved to have something nice, but I think she was just happy to give me something after war had taken so much away from us.
I found my assigned spot—unlucky number thirteen—and turned the car off. Any military brat knows you don’t step foot on new ground without observing first. So I looked out the windshield and waited. There was a crowd of underclassmen hanging out around a bench, greeting each other after a summer away from school.
Farther in the parking lot, a group of kids about my age hung out around a pickup. Some girls sat on the tailgate while guys clung around them. The popular crowd—they were at every school.
Most people, though, just crossed the parking lot to the courtyard and went up the cement stairs into the building. Overall, it seemed safe enough.
So, I got out of the car, keeping my gaze forward. Making eye contact was just an invitation I didn’t want to give, whether for friends or enemies. My breath came hard by the time I hit the top of the stairs, and I breathed deeply to catch it. Weight was an easy target for most bullies, and I didn’t want to give them any fuel.
