“Yeah.” But I’m not. “Why did Mom send you to pick me up?”
“She said you needed a ride. I’m guessing what she really needs is for me to drive someone someplace.” There’s an edge to his voice. He’s been angry since he saw me climbing into Reagan’s car. The stink part of this is that he’s mad at me and I’m not the one who dragged him out of bed after he worked third shift at the distribution warehouse.
Mom calls Liam when she requires extra help. One day, he’s going to snap or leave.
“I should have never let them talk me into community college,” he mumbles. Community college is still an hour’s hike from here. Yep, he’s definitely going to move away and never return. Like our oldest sister and brother have done.
“You’re quiet,” he says. “Not that you aren’t normally quiet, but this time you’re quiet and heavy. Plus with the way you’re gripping it, you’re going to poke a hole in that backpack.”
I stretch my fingers. “I need to talk to Mom and Dad.”
“Leave Dad alone,” says Liam. “Work is killing him.”
He’s right. Either Dad wins over this new client or the company falls into bankruptcy. Half the town works for Dad’s employer. There’s no pressure there.
All day I’ve run through the countless possible ways I can make what has happened okay. So, Mom, I lied and I’m sorry and I need you to be okay with what I’ve done because there’s this boy and he’s blackmailing me. He’s going to show everyone a picture if I don’t write his papers and I need help because I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to fix any of this...and please don’t tell anyone. Not Reagan’s parents and definitely not Addison’s.
Addison. My breath catches in my throat and my hand settles at the hollow of my neck in an effort to halt the choking sensation. If I beg my parents for help, will they tell Addison’s parents what we did? And if they do, what new bruises will appear because I’m weak?
My chest hurts as I try to inhale. This situation isn’t fixable. None of it is. I’ll miss any chance to attend college. To win a scholarship. Mom and Dad will be disappointed. They’ll be angry. Addison and Reagan will pay for my sins.
But I don’t know what to do. This problem...this picture...Kyle...this is bigger than me.
“Is it true that once something’s on the internet, it remains on the internet?” I ask. Liam likes computers. He’s the one who prevents our household from plummeting into the dark ages.
“Once it’s out there, it never goes away,” he says.
“But what if you delete it?”
Liam pulls into our drive. “The moment it’s on the net, it’s cached someplace. Doesn’t take anyone with half a brain to find it.”
“Even pictures?”
“It’s worse if it’s a picture. People copy stuff all the time. It’s like ants at a picnic. You can kill one, but fifty of them are right behind.”
He shifts the car into Park, then his face wrinkles as if he realized he was strolling in a thunderstorm without an umbrella. “Why?”
If I speak, I’ll cry, and if I cry, I’ll lose my courage. Mom. I need Mom.
I’m out of the car, leaving my backpack in the seat and the passenger door gaping. I burst into the kitchen and my heart stalls. The floor is littered with luggage and cardboard boxes of Clara’s stuff. What bothers me is that Mom’s suitcase is in the mix.
The swinging door from the living room opens and Mom rushes in like she’s fleeing out-of-control flames. Her arms are filled with various items on the verge of spilling onto the floor.
“Oh, good.” Mom’s expression relaxes as if my arrival meant the end to world hunger. “I was scared Clara and I would be gone before you showed. Liam must have found you. I know sometimes you visit with Addison and Reagan after school. Help me unzip the middle suitcase. The purple one. I wonder if I forgot something. Bre, start listing things I could have forgotten.”
Me? You’ve forgotten about me. “Where are you going?”
“Where are you going?” Liam ambles in and drops my backpack on my feet, permitting it to hit my toes. “Leave something?”
“Liam.” Mom glances at the clock on the microwave. “Unzip that middle suitcase. The purple one, then go tell Clara goodbye. We should have left five minutes ago if we’re going to make this work.”
“Good. This is good.” Liam’s shoulders loosen and then he mock swats the back of my head. “You heard Mom, start listing things, Encyclopedia-freak.”
“Don’t hit your sister and don’t call her that.” Mom reprimands him with all the passion of an answering machine recording as she drops the contents in her hands into the already overstuffed suitcase.
Mom straightens, places three fingers over her lips as she focuses on the mound of stuff, then mumbles a list of items—socks, pants, toothbrush...
I’m frozen to the ground, my entire body becoming solid. “What’s going on?”
Her head jerks up like she forgot I was here, which means she did. “Oh, yes. Bre. You are very much needed to make this work.”
She plucks an elastic band off her wrist and wrestles her short black hair into a ponytail. Mom rarely does this except when she’s flustered. It’s a vanity issue as the gray shows near the base of her neck. “I need you to take care of your younger siblings while I’m gone.”