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

bag and the armful of sinful lingerie I’d accumulated under my arm were enough to allay any misgivings I might have about my new family. Besides, if they turned out to be total shits, I’d always have the mall. Forever. It was legal and official. Half of everything he had was mine. Maybe that’s why Sabrina was the only person I tolerated. She didn’t mince words and she always spoke the truth.

Carla wasn’t there. Not at the cash desk or working the change rooms or circulating the floor. I asked one of the other girls. She frowned and took off her earpiece.

“Who?”

“Carla. She was in cash.”

“Haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks. She didn’t show up and never called or anything,” said the girl, plugging in her earpiece and flouncing off.

Next thing I knew I was driving along the riverfront to see if Carla had drifted back to the streets. It was so easy to be pulled back to that life. In the mall she was under the lights. Had to struggle to be accepted. But the streets didn’t judge you. They were always there, waiting to suck you back into their darkness. There were no interviews, no deadlines, no judgments. You just wandered right back as if you’d never left, regardless of all your flaws and weaknesses. Birdie always said that. Or maybe I said it to her. Years after the group home. My head ached. I couldn’t remember exactly when or where those words were uttered.

It was dusk. Streetlights flickered on along the riverside. I cruised past the Whole Foods Market and the French bakery. Headed towards the narrow, deserted area shaded by trees where the bridge crosses the road, creating a quiet shadowy enclave. A perfect place for doing things you don’t want anyone else to see.

It wasn’t dark enough yet for the kids to be out, so I pulled over to the side and waited. That’s when I saw the guy again. The Ken guy with the perfect hair and goatee who’d picked up Dane at the riverfront. He drifted by in his SUV, slowing down when he passed me. His sunglasses glinted like small mirrors, my face reflected in them.

His car pulled up, maybe a hundred yards ahead and the door opened. I shrank back against my seat and watched. He wore expensive shoes. Shiny, tan loafers, a gray polo shirt and a black zip-up wind jacket with a Vikings insignia. I tapped on my steering wheel, my breath fogging the windshield. I wanted to march up to him and ask him why he was crawling around here picking up vulnerable kids.

He stood around for a minute until his phone rang. Then he started walking back and forth past his car yakking. He had one of those Bluetooth headsets on that make you look like a crazy person talking to yourself. I shoved on my sunglasses and shrunk lower in my seat even though he’d already checked me out. He stopped and glanced once again in my direction, shook his head and got back into his car. He was still talking when he revved up his engine and drove off so fast he sent a spray of gravel into the air. Maybe he wasn’t really a sick creep. Or maybe I’d scared him off and saved one kid for tonight at least.

It was a start.

16

I locked myself in our bathroom the day of Nancy’s wedding “do”. I’d popped a zit, made a mess of my chin and my eyes had dark hollows under them after three nights spent running the events of Birdie and Loni’s first shoplifting trip through my brain. I viewed the day from every possible angle, agonizing about how I could’ve done things differently. If only I’d run faster or straightened up my sour face and gone along with them, I could’ve stopped Loni from getting Birdie into drugs. Instead I’d sulked like a brat and sent Birdie off into the streets where creepy men lurked around in their shiny Lexus SUVs. Now they were probably circling around Carla like vultures sniffing a fresh kill.

Guy knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you ready, Anna?”

“I can’t go. Call them. Cancel it.”

Shuffling feet, clearing throat. “Open the door, Anna. Let’s talk.”

“Nothing to talk about. Your relatives will hate me.”

“I love you, Anna. That’s what counts. Let me in.”

“What happens if I don’t?”

“I have a key. I can get in anyway.”

I opened the door and sat back down on the toilet. Guy came over and folded his arms round me. “You’re a prickly little thing, Anna. That’s why I love you.”

“I forgot what it’s like to be around family. I don’t know how to act.”

He folded me into his arms and rocked me like a child. I nuzzled his scented neck and wondered how Gord could’ve spawned such a gentle, empathetic son. It must’ve been Nancy’s influence. The nurturing kindergarten teacher treasuring every silly utterance, every childish sketch, every stumbling step of his growing years. Teaching him to share, use your words, don’t bully, be kind.

Unless there was another side to Guy that I hadn’t seen yet. I couldn’t help remembering Dane’s words, the first time I read his journal.

Those people have layers – the outer respectable layer that everyone sees. Nice clothes, sweet cars, manicured nails, designer cologne, a good job, wallet full of cash and plastic. Peel that back and you find the inner layers. The bad-boy layer…

I felt Guy’s hand stroke my hair. “Earth to Anna.”

I blinked my eyes. “Sorry, it’s just last-minute nerves.”

“You were like – in a trance.”

“I have a lot on my mind.”

He turned my face towards him. “I told you already, if you ever want to talk to me about anything to do with your past or your family, I’m here to listen. Maybe it’d help to share it with me.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t let him in. Not now. Not yet.

“When you’re ready, then.”

I nodded. “Okay – but how should I act around all