The Starfish Sisters: A Novel
Barbara O'Neal
Prologue
Then
Joel hid in the woods until he saw them drive away in the preacher’s white Chevrolet. Suze sat in the back seat, her shaved head so raw and painfully intimate. Her father drove, hands hard on the wheel. If Joel had believed for one second it would help her, he would have flung himself on the hood, holding on to halt them. A wild part of him wanted to do it anyway, give her a chance to run away.
But he’d tried that already. She would only be punished again.
So he waited in the cover of trees until the darkness was complete, then crept from his hiding place and took out the first can of lighter fluid. He squirted it methodically along the base of the church in a complete circle, then soaked the wooden steps.
Inside, he splashed pews randomly, and the aisle, and the windowsills beneath the indifferent geometric stained glass. He didn’t hesitate to climb up to the altar, and he took his time, soaking every inch of the pulpit and the floor where the old man stood to preach his lies. His hands shook unexpectedly with a rage and sorrow he feared would devour him. He took a moment to steady himself, imagining the fire consuming the preacher alive. Calmly, he lit a match and flung it on the pulpit. When it caught, he moved without hurry down the center aisle, tossing matches on the pews. By the time he made it to the door, the pulpit was fully engulfed and fire raced along the floor. He took one moment to look back and then walked out, wiping away tears and snot from his face.
He disappeared into the night, hiding in the deep forest until fire leaped high into the sky, orange sparks against the night, taking pride that even though the volunteer fire department made it to the scene in less than ten minutes, it was far, far too late.
SIX MONTHS AGO
SUZE OGDEN TARGET OF BRUTAL ATTACK BY LNB
LOS ANGELES （AP）—Suze Ogden, the Oscar-and Emmy Award–winning actress, was severely beaten in front of her home in the Hollywood Hills early this morning. Camera footage showed two assailants, but no perpetrators have been apprehended. The Leviathan Nationalist Brotherhood, LNB, a hate group that has targeted a number of high-profile women in recent years, has claimed responsibility.
Ogden is best known for her role as Julia Brandeis in the historical drama A Woman for the Ages, a role that won worldwide acclaim, including an Oscar for best actress. She currently plays the steely and conflicted matriarch Alice Peterson in Going Home Again.
The LNB has targeted celebrities, media stars, and politicians they have declared enemies of the state. Last year they claimed responsibility for the death of first-year senator Nadine Truelove, one of the youngest politicians to ever serve as a California senator. Ogden has been outspoken in her criticism of the arm of evangelical Christianity in which she grew up, which has drawn the ire of more than the LNB.
A spokesperson for the trauma unit at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center said Ogden was rushed into surgery and her prognosis is unclear. At the moment, she remains in a medically induced coma, in critical condition.
CURRENT DAY
Chapter One
Phoebe
Suze arrives home in the middle of the night, when there is less chance of anyone noticing her arrival. I know she’s coming because she texted me yesterday, one of the first communications we’ve had since I left her in the hospital after she was brutally attacked last spring. She’s been my best friend since we were twelve, but a lot has happened over those years. Most recently, we had a massive fight at my grandmother’s funeral last year, and both of us said things that should never have been spoken aloud. I wasn’t sure I’d ever talk to her again.
And yet—
Six months ago, a radical group called the Leviathan Nationalist Brotherhood attacked her outside her home and nearly beat her to death. How could I abandon her to lie in a hospital with only hangers-on and people she pays? Since Dmitri died, she’s been a hermit. I took the first flight to LA and sat by her side until she finally woke up. She squeezed my hand and thanked me and then told me it was okay if I went home.
So I did, swallowing the rejection I probably deserved.
And now she’s home. Things are . . . complicated between us. I miss her. I resent her. She infuriates me. She needs me.
This morning, I’m up early to get some painting time in before life overtakes me. As I stand at my kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to boil, I rest one foot over the other and nibble a slice of freshly baked cranberry bread. It’s tender and dense, redolent with orange, one of the best batches I’ve made for a while. Maybe I’ll take some up to Suze later.