Damage (9 page)

I race through an arched doorway into a kitchen bigger than my entire house, with a cooking area to my right and a table big enough to seat twelve to my left. A woman with blond hair huddles on the floor close to the table, the contents of a china cabinet shattered on the floor around her. Her hand is bleeding, but she’s definitely going to live so I don’t stop.

I run for the open door beyond the table. It leads out onto a deck even bigger than the one on the roof, so large that the man hasn’t quite made it to the other side. I get a good look at his back and an even better look at his profile as he dashes down the stairs leading into the woods. I’m close enough that I could take him in the forest, maybe at the bottom of the stairs if I jump the railing.

But I don’t run faster, I don’t jump the railing. I freeze, heart slamming in my chest as I realize who I’m chasing.

It’s the man from the soccer game. The one who gave me five hundred bucks to make sure Dani got on the bus.

Dani

“Penny! What happened? Are you okay?” I hurry to her, shoving aside shards of broken china with my shoe, memories from the past four years rushing through me … Penny, when we first met, making Dad take us to my favorite restaurant instead of theirs to make the “getting to know you” dinner easier; Penny, two years later, at her and Dad’s wedding, giving me my own ring during the ceremony, thanking me for the chance to join my family; Penny, that day in seventh grade when I started my period in science class, checking me out of school and taking me to a movie, helping me forget how embarrassed I’d been by the long walk to the nurse’s office in my stained jeans.

Penny has always done nice things for me. She’s always there when I need her, never expecting me to say “I love you” back, never asking for anything but that I let her love me in place of those babies she can’t have, and Dad doesn’t want to adopt.

And through it all, I’ve always assumed that I
didn’t
love her, that Penny was nothing but an irritating reminder that my own mother can’t be bothered. But now, staring down at her, seeing her face puffy and red on one side where Vince hit her …

I realize that I love her. I really do.

Tears well up in my eyes as I take her arms and help her to her feet. I’m shaking more than she is, and as angry as I can remember. I want to find Vince and smash his face in. I want to watch Rachel hurl a hundred heavy bottles at his head.

Funny how the idea of Rachel hurting people isn’t as horrifying if it’s someone I think deserves it.

“I’m okay. I’m fine.” Penny sniffs. I guide her into a chair at the kitchen table just seconds before Jesse appears at the back door.

“The guy got away. He ran into the woods.” His face is so pale, his lips look almost red against his skin. He’s obviously freaked out, but why shouldn’t he be? I told him I was taking him to a safe place, and all I’ve delivered is more awful.

But why? Vince has always been a leech, but he’s never hurt Penny. In fact, I’d always assumed one of the reasons she gives her older brother handouts is because he makes her feel loved in a way Dad can’t, in that warm, laughing-over-shared-memories-from-your-childhood, family kind of way. When they talk on the phone she usually sounds happy. Unless he’s asking for money, of course.

Is that what went wrong? Did Penny finally tell him “no,” and a slap across the face was the result?

“Do you want me to call the police?” Jesse doesn’t sound wild about the idea. “They might be able to find him in the woods or something.”

“It’s okay.” I pat Penny awkwardly on the back, wishing I had more experience giving her comfort. She’s still hunched over, clutching her hand, sobbing, and it’s starting to scare me. “We know where he lives.”

“You do?” Jesse’s eyebrows shoot up and the fear in his eyes burns a little brighter. But it isn’t fear for himself. It’s for me. For me and my family. The realization makes my chest ache. He isn’t at all what people at school think he is. He’s a good person, maybe even a great one.

“He’s my brother,” Penny whispers, voice fragile. I crouch down beside her, laying what I hope is a reassuring hand on her knee. “You were right, Dani. I should never have given him money. I should have forgotten I had a brother.”

What? I’ve never said anything to her about Vince. “Penny, I don’t—”

“I found the letter this morning, while I was getting the laundry from your room.” Penny and Dad can afford a housekeeper—two housekeepers—but Penny likes to clean the house and do our laundry. She says it makes her feel like she’s taking care of her family. “I only read it because it had my name on the envelope. I thought you’d left it for me on purpose.”

Oh no. The blackmail letter Mina and I wrote after rehearsal. I must have left it out on my desk instead of sticking it in the drawer like I’d thought.

“I’m sorry, Penny. I didn’t mean any of that stuff. I wasn’t going to give it to you, I just … I’m sorry. I know you were only trying to help.”

“He’s beyond help. He always has been. He’s probably going to end up in jail again, even if I don’t press charges for today.” Penny sighs, but lifts her head, swiping the tears from her face with her good hand. “Someone hired him to break into your dad’s private files.”

“What?”

“Your dad’s research. It seems it’s pretty valuable to someone.”

“But isn’t he still working on that arthritis thing?” I ask, before turning to Jesse to explain. “My dad does research for new medicines. He’s been working on a shot to help people with arthritis since I was in eighth grade.”

Penny takes one of the carefully folded cloth napkins from the table and presses it to her bleeding arm. “I’m not sure what they’re working on now, but Vince said someone gave him twenty thousand dollars to steal Phillip’s hard drive. He went into your dad’s office while I was getting him coffee. I heard him in there and went to see what he was doing … ” She laughs, a bitter sound that makes me angrier. Penny is always so upbeat and positive—almost annoyingly so. How dare her jerk of a brother make her feel this way when all she’s ever done is try to help him? “He offered me a few thousand dollars to keep my mouth shut and let him take it.”

Jesse clears his throat. “I … I think I need a drink of water,” he says. “If that’s okay? I can just get it myself.”

“No, no! I’ll get you something.” Penny jumps to her feet. “I should have offered. I’m so sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Penny, Dani’s stepmom.”

“Jesse,” Jesse says, but his voice is still strange.

But then, after the morning we’ve had, and being dragged into the middle of my extended family drama, it’s amazing he can speak at all. “It’s my fault,” I say. “I should have introduced everyone. I’ll get the water, Penny. You sit.” I move to the cabinet where we keep the glasses. “Do you want anything else? Orange juice or apple juice or a Coke or—”

“Water’s fine. Thank you.”

I flinch. He sounds angry. Great. So far I’ve done a fabulous job of making the first boy I’ve ever brought home comfortable. I concentrate on pulling down a glass and filling it with ice and water from the refrigerator door. I’m grateful when Penny speaks, reminding me I have bigger things to worry about than Vince’s attack or Jesse’s comfort.

“What are you guys doing home from school? Was the field trip cancelled?” Penny asks. “I heard there was bad weather coming in from Buffalo and there might be snowstorms. I was worried about the bus coming home on slick roads.”

My stomach sinks and my arm shakes so badly I nearly drop the glass of water on the floor. I would have if Jesse hadn’t appeared at my side and plucked it from my hand. His takes my other hand with his, as if he senses that I need a bit of borrowed strength to tell my stepmom that my best friend is dead.

I tell Penny what happened, doing my best to describe everything with a minimum of horror. Still, by the time I get to the explosion, she’s out of her chair, wild-eyed and gasping.

“Oh my God!” Her napkin-wrapped hand presses against her thin chest. “Oh my God, you two could have died. What about everyone else on the bus? Are there any other survivors? Why did you walk all the way home? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I—I just, I—”

“I think we were in shock or something,” Jesse says, coming to my rescue. “We just started running and didn’t even realize how far we’d gone until we were almost back in Madisonville.”

“Oh my God. Of course, I can’t even imagine … ” Penny shakes her head, tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe this. You poor kids. This is awful. And all your friends … ” Thankfully she doesn’t finish her sentence. If she had, I might have broken down and joined her sob fest.

After a few uncomfortable seconds, Penny sniffs her last sniff and stands up straighter, obviously making an effort to be strong. “Okay, first things first. You could be hurt. We need to get you both to the hospital. I’ll get my purse.” She heads out of the room, voice rising as she disappears in the direction of her and Dad’s bedroom. “Get your stuff together, Dani. Food and shots. We don’t know how long we’ll be waiting. I’ll try to call your dad on my cell. You two can call Jesse’s parents from the landline and have them meet us at the Baptist emergency room. We’ll need his insurance information and I’m sure his parents are worried sick if they’ve heard about the accident. Has it been on the news?”

“Um … I don’t know.” I have to shout to be heard.

I usually hate it when Penny starts a conversation and then leaves the room in the middle, expecting me to either follow her or yell loud enough to keep up my end from three rooms away. But I’m not angry now. I’m grateful that someone capable is taking charge. I make a silent promise not to give Penny attitude for trying to run my life ever again.

“I’m not calling anyone,” Jesse whispers, setting his empty glass in the sink, making me realize how thirsty I am. I head for the fridge and grab a bottle of water and a juice for the road. “My foster parents don’t even know I was on the field trip. Even if the wreck’s been on the news, they won’t be worried.”

I knew Jesse was a foster kid, but hearing him say it makes the fact seem even sadder. Something in his tone makes it clear there’s no Penny at his house worrying about how he’s growing up.

“And there’s no way I’m going to Baptist. Not after everything that’s happened.”

“I could ask Penny to take us to my normal pediatrician,” I say. “If we can convince her we’re not really hurt that badly, then—”

“You told her we were in a bus that flipped off a bridge and exploded. There’s no way she’s going to be convinced it isn’t serious enough for the emergency room.”

I sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should have explained things better.”

“No, I wasn’t … I didn’t mean to … ” He jabs a finger at the fruit bowl next to the sink. “Can I?”

“Of course. Please. Yeah.” He grabs a banana and peels it from the wrong end, the part without the stalk attached.

It’s a little thing, but I store it away in my Jesse file, excited that I’ve learned something new about him. The banana disappears in a few large bites and he reaches for an apple, shifting closer to where I stand as he washes it in the sink. Penny always washes the fruit before she puts it in the bowl, but I don’t tell him. It’s nice to watch him do something so … normal. It makes it easier to imagine a time when he and I might just be friends hanging out after school.

Or maybe more than friends …

“I just … ” He turns off the water, but keeps staring into the sink. “I think I should leave.”

“Why?” So much for friends. Or anything else.

“You’ll be better off away from me.” He dries his apple on his torn sweater as he backs away.

“How can you say that? I’d be dead without you. That tree limb was meant for me. It was Rachel who made it fall.”

He shakes his head, still refusing to meet my eyes. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand better than anyone ever has, or ever will. We have to find out what happened to us. If we don’t … ” I let the words hang in the air. He knows what will happen if we don’t. We’ll die. “I don’t want you to go. I’m … I’ve spent my whole life thinking I was the only one.”

Jesse’s blue eyes finally meet mine. “Me too.”

I draw a slow breath, shocked that a simple look can make me feel so grounded and off balance at the same time. “Now it’s different,” I say. “Maybe together we can find out what happened, and how to make it stop.”