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

Robin cleared his throat, his sallow cheeks flushed at the sudden attention thrust on him. “The new job was going really well. She was helping out at home with groceries but then apparently, she left work one night and never showed up at home. Mom’s tried all her friends. Carla’s never stayed away for longer than two days at a time. She’s protective of her little brothers and baby sister.”

“I bet some asshole picked her up in the parking lot,” said Sabrina. “Weirdos hang out there late at night, just waiting for someone like her to show up.”

The other teachers nodded in agreement. Norm even patted Sabrina on the back saying right on, tell it like it is. She shook off his hand as if ridding herself of an irritating insect.

Robin coughed into his palm. “You’re probably dead on, Sabrina. But if we want to find out what happened to her, we need information. Facts. So if any of you know anything. Names, contacts, places that could help in any way, talk to me. Come to my office. Don’t hold anything back. I’ll pass it on to the authorities.”

“You think the cops will actually do anything?” said Fran, leaning forward and looking round at all of us. “Tom says these kind of cases get low priority.”

“Too right,” said Sabrina. “Especially if her parents don’t make enough noise about it.”

When the meeting was over, I staggered back to the classroom. The after-effects of last night’s champagne caused a steady buzzing in my head. My excitement about the new clothes and the trip had faded, sucked away by a nasty current of danger.

Robin had canceled classes for a prep day, so I looked around my empty classroom and began to wonder if it was time to pack this job in. Find work in a bank or a real estate office or the perfume counter of a chain store instead of coming here day after day to dive back into the seamy lifestyle I’d fought so hard to escape. Staying here would always remind me of Birdie and my old life. I’d never put the memories to rest.

Then it occurred to me that now I’d met Guy I could join the family bandwagon. Contribute to Gord’s education super-dynasty with some practical, usable ideas. The image of that perfect bathroom on the edge of the wild forest flooded into my head. I wanted that. I wanted the pillowy towels, the marble walls, the perfumed lotions, the four-headed rain shower. All of it.

I told myself perhaps I had to stop trying to change these kids’ lives. That nothing could drag them out of the scum. Only luck had got me out in time, otherwise I’d have been lost like Birdie. But why me? How had I survived?

I folded my arms and lay my head on the table trying not to think of Carla. Thoughts of her only led me to Birdie. I closed my eyes and saw that orange wallpaper, still heard the laughter, still felt that sense of being frozen – powerless to stop a pair of disembodied hands from grabbing Birdie’s skinny arms and yanking her upwards. A hand tapped my shoulder and I almost jumped out of the chair, swinging my arm outwards and catching Robin on the jaw. He staggered backwards, holding his chin, his mouth saggy and trembling.

“What the hell, Anna?” he gasped. Faced with violence, Robin crumbled into a gibbering mess.

I settled him down with plenty of heartfelt apologies. Finally composed, he asked for Carla’s journal.

“After the last time, we need to be vigilant,” he said in a clipped tone.

I handed it to him. His eyebrows lifted at the massive spiderwebs drawn in black ink spread across the cover.

“Someone’s come into her life. A man who scares her. It’s pretty clear from the last few entries.”

“The cops might know what to make of it,” he said, taking it and scanning the cover, the tip of his tongue moistening his upper lip. He looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes in a pallid, jowly face.

“I should tell you, I’ve been thinking of retiring, Anna. Things are really getting to me now. I’m not sure how many more tragedies I can take before I realize that this job – maybe my whole life – is an exercise in futility. Pretty sad for a lifetime devoted to kids on the margin. I want to travel again. Maybe go to California and enjoy the sunshine for a while. These frigid winters are freezing my soul.”

I felt a sudden stab of pity for him. The cute surfer boy was long gone. Instead, a faded, disillusioned old man looked back at me.

“You’d be missed, Robin. Give yourself some credit. We’ve had plenty of victories along the way and every one of them counts.”

“Thanks for the kind words, Anna,” he said, bowing his head as he left, sucking all the air from the room and leaving behind him a vacuum of negativity. I couldn’t breathe, so I grabbed my bag and rushed out of the classroom.

Guy was still at work and I didn’t relish sitting alone in the empty condo. Not the way I was feeling. So I drove towards the riverfront. Time on my hands meant time to remember. And the memories flooded in, menacing and dark. Thoughts of people and places from my past crowded up against images of Carla abducted by some crazy stranger. I glided past the whole food delis and the designer accessories stores. Past the patisserie with its trays of brightly colored macaroons until I reached the sandstone arches of the old Stone Arch Bridge.

The wind whipped my hair across my face as I climbed up the steps to the bridge. Birdie and I came here when we were still at the group home. In the summer holidays there were long days to fill when the staff were stretched to the limit with laundry, cleaning, and dealing with the