The Secret Sister by M. DeLuca (classic novels for teens txt) 📕

quarried like I did,” said Gord, a noticeable quaver of irritation in his voice.

“You don’t quarry quartz, Dad. It’s man-made,” said Guy, reaching for the bread. The barest flicker of arrogance distorted his face, transforming him for an instant into a stranger I hardly knew. I shivered as Gord placed both hands on the table.

“Always trying to make the old man look like a moron. Never misses a trick.” His eyes finally rested on me. “Watch out, Mandy, he’ll be tripping you up on your misplaced modifiers before long.”

“It’s Anna, Dad, not Mandy,” said Guy with a sigh, placing a hand over mine and smiling with such affection I realized I’d been holding my breath for the last thirty seconds. I exhaled and let the warm cocoon of intimacy wrap around me once again.

Gord sat back. Tension shimmered in the air. Then Nancy swept in with a platter of white fish garnished with asparagus and tiny roasted potatoes.

“I hope you’re not allergic,” she said, nodding towards the fish.

“Well, it’s a bit late to ask that, isn’t it?” said Gord, offering me the plate. “That’s the kind of thing you’d find out in advance.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. No allergies here.” If they only knew there were times in my life I’d have eaten potato peel I was so hungry.

Entertainment during dinner was the Gord show. He treated us to a complete rundown of his educational theories, only pausing his lecture to insert a piece of fish, chew on it, then start up again.

I’d seen people like him plenty of times before. Self-proclaimed gurus who sold a quick-fix solution to harried school boards struggling to raise standards to keep up with students in Finland, Korea, China and all the other top ten countries. At last, they pronounced, gleefully rubbing their hands together, the answer to every problem that ails our faltering education system. The golden key to unlocking unlimited potential. We can sell this dream and we’ve found the right person to do it.

He regaled us with anecdotes about his many keynote addresses. In my short career I’d sat through plenty of those forty-minute speeches that left everyone feeling good but empty-handed. With nothing that could be translated into real, concrete classroom practice.

When the plates were empty, he stopped abruptly and turned to me. “So Guy tells me you work in an alternative program.”

I blinked myself into full consciousness, understanding why I’d seen Guy and Nancy do exactly the same thing earlier. “I do, that’s where I met Guy.” I smiled over at Guy. He smiled back and I felt an immediate urge to make love to him.

“I think they’re in love, Gord,” said Nancy, her eyes smiling but her face strained.

“Ah – the joys of youth,” said Gord, sighing and stumbling to his feet. He’d downed at least three glasses of wine over dinner. “But I’m afraid it’s time for some shop talk if you’ll excuse us, Anna. You girls can take the time to get better acquainted.”

Guy gave me a hurried peck on the cheek, then father and son took off into a teak-paneled office lined with bookshelves. Before the door slammed shut, I saw a heavy wooden desk surrounded by framed photographs and certificates.

I picked up my dinner plate and followed Nancy into the kitchen, which resembled the interior of a space pod. Glossy white surfaces everywhere. Chrome accents. The fridge and stove concealed into recessed walls. A gleaming white island with three white pendant lights dangling above three white candlesticks of varying heights each topped with a perfect lemon. There’d be no spaghetti and meatballs cooked in this kitchen.

Nancy bustled around, stacking dishes into the dishwasher.

“Gord talks a lot at first, but he’s just insecure meeting new people.”

Insecure was not a word I’d ever associate with Gord Franzen, but then I remembered she’d been a kindergarten teacher, a position requiring a saintly level of empathy and patience.

“It’s okay. I found him interesting. Stimulating actually.”

“You are a diplomat,” she said, turning from the sink with a candid expression that quite disarmed me. This was not the person who’d sat like a dutiful robot during dinner while Gord did his turn.

“I did – I mean I really enjoyed…” I stuttered.

“Don’t worry, Anna,” she said, drying her hands and turning towards me. “Gord and I are delighted that Guy’s finally hooked up with someone like you. Someone who understands what we’re all about.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond since I really hadn’t figured them out at all, but somehow, she’d decided I was the right fit. That I belonged. Maybe because I sat like a statue and let Gord do his thing. Maybe because Birdie and I had learned to throw our lot in with anyone that showed an interest in us. We were chameleons, changing our skin to suit our surroundings and fitting in was the way we survived one lousy foster home after another. I mastered the art of blending in till I was almost unseen. It was safer that way. But Birdie clamored for attention, praise – connection. She twirled like a wind-up doll, begging for anyone to look at me, see me, I’m cute, loveable. Want me, notice me, love me.

Too bad it would eventually be her undoing.

It was almost mine, too, because later when Birdie disappeared, I was too broken to care about fitting in.

“How about some grapefruit sorbet?” Nancy slammed the dishwasher shut, rousing me from my thoughts. She opened the fridge door revealing stacks of perfectly arranged Tupperware containers. I gulped my wine too quickly and coughed.

She laughed. “I know. I’m a little obsessive. But order calms me.”

“Now I see who Guy takes after.”

She spooned the pale lemony ice into white glass bowls. “He was always a lovely boy. A gentle soul.” She stopped for a moment, the spoon held in mid-air and looked at me with steely eyes. “Be kind to him, Anna.”

“Of course,” I said, taking an extra slug of wine to steady my nerves, then excused myself to use