*
Mom wanted me to go back to school in September and I’d agreed to give it a try. She said it might be good for me to be around my friends again. I wasn’t so sure about that. Emily and Taylor had come over once, but it was weird, like I didn’t know what to say to them. I just felt tired and kind of distant. I don’t sleep very well anymore. Tina said that was normal. I have a lot of messed-up dreams, like Crystal is in my room staring at me, blood all over her chest, or I’m in Gavin’s house, tied to the bed, and the rope is getting tighter around my throat.
Sometimes when I woke up, I’d hear Mom walking around. I got up one night after we’d been home for a few days, found her sitting on the couch, all the lights off.
“Did I wake you?” she said.
“Couldn’t sleep.” I sat beside her. She looked like she wanted to ask what was wrong, but she just reached out, held my hand.
I took a breath. “I’m ready to talk about it.”
I told her everything that had happened, how Gavin had caught me in the house, what he’d done to me in his bedroom, how scared I’d been, how brave Crystal had been, how she’d tried to protect me.
I was glad Mom and I were talking in the dark, so we couldn’t see each other crying—I wouldn’t have been able to finish—but I could hear her sniffling when I told her how I’d realized that Brian was my father.
“Did you ever regret keeping me?” I said.
“No! Not for one minute! The moment I saw you, you were mine. I couldn’t let anyone else have you.”
“If you’d given me away, Crystal might not be dead.”
“Oh, Skylar, you can’t think like that. We don’t know what might’ve happened. Life just goes a certain way sometimes and it’s not anyone’s fault.”
She said she was really sorry about lying to me, and I said I was sorry for lying too. Even though we had that big talk, I still felt like I didn’t know who I was. It was hard, knowing that my father was that horrible person.
What did that make me?
*
A week before school started, Mom and I went to the gym so she could get her paycheck. I needed some new clothes. As if it mattered. I waited outside, sat on the hood of the car in the shade. It was still hard being at the gym, looking up every time the door opened, thinking Crystal was going to walk in. I felt bad too when I saw Dallas, how sad and tired she looked. I worried about all the years she had known who my father was, wondered how she really felt about me.
Aaron came out of the gym. He was walking past when he noticed me and walked over. “You working today?”
I shook my head.
“Want to run some stairs? I’m going to the park later.” I gave him a look. “No?” he said. “You could still come and time me. I’m training hard.”
“Let me guess, Rocky-style,” I said, my voice mocking.
He just laughed and leaned against the side of the car, close to me. He was all sweaty, but I didn’t mind it for some reason.
“So how are you doing?” he asked, and I shrugged. He opened his water bottle, started drinking. His jaw muscles flexed, making his scar move. I remembered how I didn’t want to ask how he got it, how I thought it would be rude. I didn’t care what he thought about me now.
“How did you get your scar?” I said.
Aaron looked surprised, swallowed, then said, “I got between my dad and a knife. He’s in prison now.”
“Does that bother you?”
“When he first went in I thought everyone would think I was bad too.” He stared ahead, screwing the cap back on his bottle. “Then I figured out I was just being an idiot. I’d never do what my dad did, you know?”
“Yeah.” I thought about Riley. Did he feel ashamed like me? After my mom had told him about the cars in Gavin’s garage he’d rode his motorbike there, snuck onto the property, and checked it out—he had a key to the shop. He then rode back into town and called the cops from his cell. I don’t know if he figured out that I was his sister, but I don’t want to talk to him, not yet at least. I think about my half-sister sometimes, but she’s just a stranger to me.
Aaron turned and looked at me. “You think I’m bad?”
“No. You just had a bad thing happen to you.” I remembered my counselor saying something similar to me. I hadn’t understood then.
He smiled. “See, the good people get it. Screw the rest.”
I smiled back, reluctantly. “Yeah, screw them.” Our eyes met, and I felt kind of weird. I looked away. “We can go to the park Saturday—but it has to be early. Meet me at six-thirty.”
“Man, you’re tough.” He got to his feet. “See you there.”
I watched him walk back into the gym. Maybe I’d tell him someday.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN