Sisters in the Wind(37)

If Stacy was going to miss a day of school for any reason, I called my teammate for a ride in the morning. Never again would I risk being in a car alone with Steven.

After dinner, Stacy and I washed dishes and tidied the kitchen. I read at the dining table, in full view of the family as they watched television. When I retired to my bedroom, I wedged my desk chair beneath the doorknob.

Neutralizing Steven Sterling meant getting proof that he was bad news. I’d need it to blackmail him into staying away from me.

The computers in the school library would relay my internet search history to the district’s IT team. I needed to conduct my research and store information on a device nobody else could access. I needed cash for one of the new cell phones with a built-in camera and the ability to search the internet. There was a big store that sold the phones on a monthly prepaid contract.

I asked Mrs. Sterling for permission to offer babysitting services on the weekends to local families. Asking was a mere formality; she owed me for not telling anyone about Steven’s attack. I told parents that I preferred cash. It didn’t take long before I had my own phone. I always kept it with me, even tucking it into my bra during track events.

All the families I babysat for had computers. I only used the ones that were set up in a family room. The U.S. Department of Justice website posted annual reports from each state, providing summaries of crime investigations completed. I focused on the drug crimes, jotting down key words for online searches about the types of evidence collected against the drug dealers. Then I’d delete the browser history before the parents returned.

Steven conducted business from his car in the school parking lot. Capturing video proof would require a nearby stakeout location. I swiped my teammate’s car key, drove to the hardware store to get a duplicate cut, and returned the key before she realized it had gone missing. I would begin surveilling Steven the next morning from inside my teammate’s car.

I congratulated myself on my cleverness.



* * *



That evening Stacy asked about periods. It wasn’t out of the blue; we were reading the Harriet the Spy series. The second book, The Long Secret, included the topic.

“Does it hurt when you get a period?” she asked with an adorably scrunched face.

She sat cross-legged in front of the beanbag chair, staring up at me.

“It does hurt here,” I said, placing my palm against my lower abdomen. “The first day and night it’s a stomachache that won’t go away, and cramps like if you eat something that was spoiled, and sometimes it gives you diarrhea.”

Stacy looked horrified.

“Each person is different. One girl on the track team hurts so bad she throws up and takes prescription medicine. I hurt for the first twenty-four hours, and then it fades away. My foster sister Devery didn’t feel anything.” I shrugged. “Maybe you’ll be like her.”

“Megan Jackson got her period,” Stacy said, reaching for another book. “Steven didn’t think nine-year-olds could get a period.”

My body froze. I counted to sixty before speaking.

“Boys don’t always know stuff about periods,” I said, faking nonchalance by rearranging her bookshelf by height.

“He said boys don’t like playing car games when girls get a period.” Stacy met my eyes and handed me the book to shelve. “Is that true?”

I carefully considered my response while taking slow, deep breaths.

“I’m not sure. What car games does Steven play with you?”

I held my breath, waiting for her answer.

Stacy looked down at the book in her hands.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Steven said if I tell, then it will ruin our family. We would turn into foster kids and leave our house forever and never see Mom or Dad again.”

The world stopped in that instant, along with my heart.

Mrs. Sterling called for Stacy. American Idol was starting. She dashed away.

I remained in the beanbag chair. Stacy and her mother talked about the singers auditioning, especially a pretty young woman with blond, curly hair. The odor of Mr. Sterling’s nightly cigar wafted upstairs.

Car games. Don’t tell or else you’ll ruin our family.

Steven Sterling was a monster.

I wanted to protect Stacy but didn’t know how. Again I needed to assess risk and reward. If Steven became aware that I knew about the car games, he might retaliate against me or his sister. But I could fight back; Stacy couldn’t. Hurting Steven scared me because I didn’t think I could control myself. Anger was mere kindling; my rage went deeper. But if I left, I could tell my social worker what was happening.

Leaving was my best chance to help the girl I hadn’t wanted to like.

The night I’d fled from Bridget, I’d grabbed my backpack before I’d finished packing. There were things left behind that I’d never get back.

This time I filled my backpack with the birthday books, my phone, my savings, and a few extra clothing items. I tied my running shoes to my backpack. My winter boots were near the front entrance.

I paused outside Stacy’s bedroom and retrieved A Little Princess from my backpack. Below the inscription from my dad, I added my own.

To Stacy

I have to leave. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.

Brothers are never supposed to play car games with sisters.