“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“Upstairs. Asleep.”
“She okay?” I don’t know why I asked. I pretty much already knew the answer. Guess I wanted confirmation of how much she missed me—Ella—of how much they actually did care.
He shook his head and stood up, drained what was left of his drink before setting the glass down on the coffee table. “Maddy, we need to talk. You are closing yourself off. Your mom sees it. Alex sees it. I see it, and it scares us, Maddy. We can help you, but you need to let us in.”
There were so many things I wanted to say, starting with I’m sorry and I’m not Maddy. But not yet. Not now. “I know, Dad, but not tonight,” was what I actually said.
29
As selfish as it was, I felt better the next day because I wasn’t the only one carrying around my complicated secret. Dad was gone by the time I got up, and Mom was still in bed. Probably for the best. I wasn’t sure what, if anything, I wanted to say to her yet.
The kitchen was a mess, dishes were still in the sink and the coffeepot was still sitting on the counter, the bottom ringed with black sludge. At least Bailey had taken care of what was left of the pizza. The chicken soup though … somehow he’d managed to topple the bowl onto his head. He’d licked himself clean as best he could, but he was sticky, the fur on his head matted down and littered with tiny chunks of carrots. It was unusual for Mom to leave the kitchen like this. It was unusual for her to leave anything out of place.
I picked up the empty carton of creamer and tossed it in the trash and was reaching for the dishwasher when I saw the e-mail printout. Moving an overturned mug aside, I picked up the page and swiped at the coffee stain on it. It was useless; the light brown stain was dried.
I recognized the e-mail address. It was from the department at RISD and addressed to both Mom and me.
I’d submitted the application the night Maddy died, the night I became her. I’d tried not to think about it since then. In fact, I’d nearly forgotten I’d even applied. Until now. Until the proof lay coffee-stained in my hand.
I didn’t bother to read it, forced myself not to scan the first few lines to see what it said. I just shoved the e-mail into my bag and headed out the door, not wanting to be reminded of yet another thing I had failed to do right.
School was quiet, but I’d expected that. I’d come in early to avoid Alex. He’d have questions about why I left and why I wasn’t returning his calls, and I didn’t have any answers. Or not any that didn’t involve a complicated set of lies.
I rounded the corner of the hallway and saw Josh standing there staring into his open locker. “Hey,” I said.
His eyes flicked in my direction and I walked toward him. He was the only familiar thing in my life anymore, and I wanted to be close to him.
Josh waited until I stopped next to him before he looked at me, really looked at me, then shook his head. “Back in the role, I see,” he said, and returned his attention to his locker.
I knew what he meant. I had on leather boots and skinny jeans and three layers of shirts and sweaters that were strategically placed and itched like crazy. Crap, I was even getting better at doing my makeup. Thanks to two hours of practice last night, I’d only had one mishap with the mascara this morning, but luckily it wasn’t waterproof.
“Yeah, for now,” I said.
“Forever?”
I shrugged. That was the plan.
He slammed his locker shut, not a single book in his hands. “Yeah, well, I have class, and I have to go find Kim, so whatever.”