The Starfish Sisters: A Novel(77)
She looked away, but her mouth was still sullen. “Poor Phoebe. Life is so hard, isn’t it? Your poor dear parents divorcing.”
I blushed, painfully hard, and dug my fingernails into my palms. “Why are you being so horrible?”
“You’re the one! I’ve been in this place for nearly a month and this is the first time you’ve been here.”
“It’s hard to get here! And you’re kinda not easy right now.”
“Gosh,” she said sarcastically. “Sorry I’m not nice enough.” She rolled her eyes. “You just don’t get it, Phoebe. You’re so spoiled!”
“That’s not fair! My life is not perfect, either.”
“Oh, right. I forgot.” She bent her head into her hands, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. The noise in her throat was filled with such frustration it might have come from a wild animal. “You think you get it, but you don’t. You don’t know what it’s like to live with a parent who hates you. Who hurts you.” Her spotlight eyes bored into me. “When he found out I was pregnant, he dragged me by my hair. He beat me with a belt until I couldn’t even stand up. And then he shaved my head.”
I whispered, “That’s awful. He should go to jail for child abuse.”
“Yep. He should. But he won’t.”
I knew that was true, too. It made me despair. All of it made me depressed—that she was stuck here, that she would have a baby she’d never see, that her father was such a bastard, that I couldn’t help her, no matter how much I wanted to. I felt the wall between us acutely. “Why haven’t you been writing in the diary?”
She closed her eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say whatever you want.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t write it down. I just can’t.”
We struggled through another half hour of the awkward visit, with me stepping wrong at every turn and her returning scathing comments that made me feel about two inches high.
“You were born under a lucky star, Phoebe,” she said, when we were getting to the end. “Maybe try to enjoy it.”
“So lucky,” I echoed sarcastically. “My parents are divorcing. I’m such a geek that no guy is ever going to like me, and my best friend thinks I’m a total idiot.” Tears sprang into my eyes.
“Stop crying!” she yelled. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“I don’t know how to help you, Suze. I might be lucky, but I also didn’t sleep with some guy and get pregnant.”
“There it is, the truth,” she said with bitterness. Her chin rose. “You can go now. Back to your pretty little life.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were having sex?” I asked. “I’m your best friend. I would have told you.”
“Oh, like when you lied about kissing Joel that time? Another time my dad was being an asshole?”
“That was years ago! I didn’t even know you cared!”
“I didn’t. But you didn’t tell me the truth.”
It wasn’t an answer, but I’d had enough. “Fine.” I grabbed my sweater and stormed out, my heart pounding all the way down the stairs. My dad was waiting, and didn’t say a word when I slammed the door.
I didn’t go back. I didn’t speak to her again until she moved in with Amma and I was forced into proximity with her.
CURRENT DAY
Chapter Twenty-One
Phoebe
I’m fuming mad, crashing dishes around as I make lunch. I don’t know who I’m angrier with—me or Suze. How could she have lied to me for so long? So long?
And why? It doesn’t make sense. Why hide it? It makes me feel like our entire friendship is a lie.
Jasmine is upstairs playing Roblox on her iPad, time she earned by doing a bunch of chores in the house. I’m making tuna salad for lunch for me, grilled cheese for her. A knock sounds at the door, and I jump three feet before I realize it’s Ben. I wave him in, so relieved.
“Hi,” I say.
“You okay?”
I don’t know if he means right now or last night, when I was so weird, but I answer for both. “I’m good. Just a lot going on.”
He clears his throat and bends his head toward his phone. “Have you seen the news this morning?”
My body stiffens in fear. “What?”
He hands me the phone. On the screen is a news story.
JUNO GERHERT GUNNED DOWN
LNB claims responsibility
San Francisco—Singer Juno Gerhert, currently on tour with her fourth platinum hit, was shot dead outside a concert hall in San Francisco last night. She was 28 years old.
The domestic terrorist group the Leviathan Nationalist Brotherhood has claimed responsibility, their fourth such attack in eighteen months, all on women—Nadine Truelove, the freshman senator for California; Andrea Montague, a gay activist in Denver; Suze Ogden, an outspoken actress who compared the LNB to the Taliban; and now Gerhert, who had been demanding action against the LNB for over a year after they stalked her after she released records on the leader of the group, Jacob Cosgrove, showing ties to white-supremacist groups. Of the four, only Ogden survived.