“It’s really no problem,” my father says.
Tammy turns on him, and there is a fire in her face that reminds me of the way a lioness protects her cubs.
“You have been good to her, and I appreciate that, but she already has a family,” she bites, then snatches her daughter by the hand and drags her down the street. Bex looks back at me, but after a few seconds I lose her in the crowd.
“She picks now to be mother of the year?” I cry.
“When you’re a parent, you’ll find that you’re capable of making huge changes and sacrifices for your child,” my mother says knowingly.
“She’s just going to screw up again,” I say bitterly.
“Let her try,” my father says.
Chapter Sixteen
I am shaken out of a deep sleep, and I leap out of bed, still feeling the anesthetic-like pull of the dream world. I don’t really know where I am or who is hovering next to me, but I am at once convinced that the lunatic from school has found me. I swat at the air, ready to fight for my life.
“Lyric!” a voice shouts, and strong hands grab my wrists.
I shake off the remains of the unconscious sludge and realize I am in my room. There is no lunatic, only my father, doing his best to avoid a punch in the face.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” I cry.
“Get your things. Russell got out of jail,” he says.
“When?”
“Two days ago,” he says.
“Tammy lied to her,” I say.
I snatch my stuff, and we head into the living room. My mother is waiting. “I’m going too.”
My father is ready to argue, but thinks twice. The three of us dart into the night, ignoring the state-mandated curfew, and walk through the empty streets until we arrive at Bex’s house. Shadow is sitting on Russell’s lawn chair, nursing his face with a cold beer bottle. The knuckles on both his hands are bruised and bleeding.
“He didn’t hit me,” he says. “I tripped over a chair and hit the coffee table trying to punch him in the face. I knocked him down three or four times. When he realized he couldn’t hurt me, he ran off.”
“Where is Bex?” my dad asks.
Shadow points up.
We take the steps two at a time until we get to Bex’s floor. The front door is off its hinges, splintered and smashed. Tammy is in the living room sitting on a dusty futon and smoking a cigarette. She has a bruise under her eye, and part of her scalp looks raw, like a handful of her hair was yanked out by the roots.
“Where’s Bex?” my father asks.
“Packing some things,” she says without looking at us. “She’ll be out in a second.”
“What happened? Or is that a dumb question?” I say.
My mother catches my eye and gives me a disapproving look.
Tammy takes a deep drag and lets it out. “Can Bex stay with you for a while?”
I’m stunned. Tammy has never asked for help. She’s never asked for anything, except the time she bummed ten bucks off of me so she could buy a pack of Merits.
“I’ll pay you back for whatever she eats. I just have to get her out of this house.”
“Don’t even think about it,” my mother says. “She can stay as long as you need.”
“Tammy, do you need to tell me something?” my father asks.
Tammy takes another drag. “Bring the dogs, Lenny. Search the place. Maybe you’ll find something that will make him go away.”
Bex enters the room. She’s got a pillow in her hand and a toothbrush in the other.
“It’s cool tonight,” Tammy says to her. “Take something warm. Take the hoodie.”
“I’ll be fine,” Bex says. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Tammy shakes her head. “I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”
Once we’re outside, my father pulls us all under the tattered awning of the liquor shop next door. Scraggly-faced men watch us with yellow eyes.
“What happened?”
“It’s nothing,” Bex says.
Shadow shakes his head. “Tell them, Bex. I can’t keep this promise.”
Bex looks like she wants to dig a hole and bury herself inside it. “Tammy fought back. That’s what happens when you fight back.”
“Bex!” Shadow shouts. “Tell them!”
Bex explodes in tears. “Russell was being weird, saying creepy stuff. I thought when he went away he’d stop. Tammy said he couldn’t come back. She tried to lock the door and—”
“What kind of creepy stuff?” my father asks.
“I was in the shower and he—” She chokes. Her face is red and frantic like she’s reliving something ugly. “He pulled the curtain open and . . . he was drunk and he took off his shirt.”
“No, Bex,” I say.
My father reaches for her. “Bex, did he . . .”
Bex throws her hands up and takes a step back, as if the question is a rattlesnake springing from a bush. “No. I fought back.”