Could it be possible that Dylan had changed his mind about me tutoring him? Or had Vincent decided, once again, that he didn’t want me tutoring his brother?
Then, as the brothers broke apart, the mischievous grin on Dylan’s face was enough to convince me that my thoughts were petty. Obviously, they had been talking about something entirely different.
“Estella,” Dylan began, his voice almost sing-song, “would you like to have dinner with my brother and me?”
My eyes shot to Vincent, whose expression was unreadable. There was a small crease between his brows as he waited for my response. I wanted to see some sort of reaction from him, but his face was stone cold. Yikes. Apart from the odd smirk, this guy never smiled.
“I’m sorry, I can’t today,” I said, turning back to Dylan. “My sister will be here soon to pick me up.”
“Oh.” Dylan’s expression was downcast. “That’s okay. Maybe another day?”
“Definitely,” I said, as we all stood up and began heading to the entrance of the library.
Dylan was a few steps ahead, chattering on about a girl in his class who was better at Math than he was. I half-listened as we walked outside into the chill November air and quickly wrapped my arms around myself as the coolness hit me.
Cold air was coming out of my mouth and I shivered against myself.
“I would give you my jacket, but then I’d have none left.” Vincent’s voice was close to my ear and I shivered again, despite his breath being warm against my skin.
I turned my head slowly and stared directly into the blackness of his eyes. They were as dark as a never ending abyss and just as difficult to define. The longer I stared into them, the more I felt like I was losing myself.
“Uh—” My voice caught in my throat and a volley of goose pimples assaulted my arms that I knew had nothing to do with the freezing temperature. Even if it had been a typical Iowa summer, I would still be shivering.
Vincent held my gaze, neither of us daring to break it. My head was filled with a buzzing that echoed around empty walls. It was hard to exercise common sense and look away; not when Vincent was staring at me like he had never laid eyes on anyone quite like me.
What confused me the most was that I was acting the exact same way. This would be the perfect opportunity for one of my friends to shake some sense into me.
By some good fortune, Dylan tugged on the sleeve of my sweater. Startled, I broke away from the eye lock and looked down to meet Dylan’s expression of impatience. “Did you hear me?”
Shaking my head, I bent down so I was at eye level with him. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
“I said your sister’s pretty like you.”
Straightening up, I scanned the deserted parking lot and found Dad’s station wagon parked a few feet away where Savannah had originally dropped me off. The interior light was on inside the car, illuminating Savannah’s face as she stared out at us.
“I’d better get going.” I looked back at Vincent, but his expression was blank and inscrutable. There was no way of telling what was running through his head. “I’ll see you on Friday.”
“See you then!” Dylan said with an enthusiasm that made me smile.
Vincent didn’t respond at all, which I found both rude and strange. Well, whatever. I wasn’t going to mope around just because he wanted to be anti-social. I was actually glad to be getting away from him. His presence smothered my thoughts.
I hurried to the car, got in, and was hit by a blast of hot air. Anna had the heat cranked up high. She also had this look on her face like someone had used her as a punching bag and she hadn’t been expecting it.
“What?” I asked when she continued to stare at me.
She pointed past me and out the window. “You spent, like, an hour with that guy. Did you notice how freaking hot he was?”
I sighed into my hand, shaking my head. If only my sister knew who he really was; that he was a Madden and that sometimes he scared the heck out of me for that sole reason.
“No, I didn’t really notice,” I lied.
Savannah rolled her eyes as she pulled out of the parking lot. “Oh, Estee, you bore.”
If only she knew the truth—that Vincent had awakened a tumult of feelings within me that I wasn’t quite ready to face myself.
When we got home, the hairs on my arms stood up straight.
Even from the driveway, I could tell that something wasn’t right. The door was wide open, and all the lights were on. That meant that Dad was home.
“Estella?” Savannah asked, her tone uncertain as she got out of the car.
My entire body shook as a resounding crash came from inside the house. “Get back in the car!” I gestured at Savannah, but she was shaking her head.
“No, I’m coming in with you!”
“There is no way I am letting you do that,” I said in a firm tone. “Let me handle this. You get back in the car and wait for me to come out, do you understand?”
It was hard to shelter Savannah from the disease that plagued our family, but I was going to try my hardest. She was too young to have to face this, and I was going to protect her as best as I could. There was no hope for me; I had already seen the worst that life had to offer. I was already broken.
With determination, I strode up the front steps and inside the house, shutting the front door behind me. But as soon as I crossed the threshold and stood in the hallway, my bravado shattered. There was a pungent smell of vomit coming from somewhere inside the house that made me want to retch.
My body shook again and tears stung my eyes like prickles as he advanced towards me. I was once again reduced to a quivering child. I couldn’t do anything to make myself act; I just stood there, scared and helpless.
A bottle flew past me, barely missing my face, and smashed against the front door, breaking into hundreds of tiny fragments. He might as well have hit his target, the way my knees buckled at his approach. I felt like the bottle had smashed into my face, the glass shattering upon impact and disfiguring my face a hundred different ways.
Reaching out, I placed a hand on the wall to brace myself, and focused on him as he started swearing at me. He was dressed in the clothes he had been wearing two days ago; a pair of faded pants and an unbuttoned shirt that he wore to work. There was an uneven growth of stubble on his face and he definitely hadn’t showered in a few days.
This was my father. This was the man who was supposed to take care of me and protect me. But he had failed, and now he was tearing our entire family apart.
“You whore! You fucking piece of trash! Where were you? Roaming around the Goddamn streets like your slut mother! You’re worthless, just like her!”
Each word slashed at me like a cruel knife. I struggled to hold myself together, to stay strong, but it was so difficult. I just wanted to be free from this life. I was sick of the reminders of my mother. I wanted to forget that she had ever existed, but mainly, I just wanted to run away.
I wanted to run away from the responsibilities of this life. I wanted to go away to a place where I wasn’t “me” anymore. I wanted to be someone else—someone who was happy. I couldn’t remember the last time that I was happy, when my smile hadn’t been false.
But I couldn’t run away. This was my life and I had to face it. I had to face it for my sister. I wanted to be her protector and there was no way in hell I would let her face this. I had to be strong. I had to be the mother that she didn’t have anymore
“Daddy, please,” I begged, my voice wavering, “calm down.”
The tears began squeezing their way from my eyes, wanting to escape, not wanting to be a part of my weak body.