Backlash (5 page)

“I don’t know.” Mom sighs. “But getting yourself arrested for assault isn’t going to help Lara. Or me. Don’t forget I’ve got an election coming up in November.”

As if any of us could forget that for a second.

“Our daughter is lying in a hospital bed and you’re bringing up
the election
?”

Dad’s voice is starting to rise. Mom tells him to lower it so he doesn’t make a scene.

Hate to break it to you, Mom, but I think the scene has already been well and truly made.

I take out my cell to check the time. There are, like, a gazillion texts from Maddie and Cara, but I’m not up to reading them now. I just want to go home. It’s already so late I can forget about washing my hair. I’ll be lucky if I even get any sleep before auditions. Like, I know this is a crisis, and my sister is in really bad shape —
again —
but I’m so sick of being treated like a second-class kid just because Lara is messed up. It’s not fair!! I’m probably going to win the Worst Daughter in the World Award for asking to leave, but I decide to do it anyway.

“Mom … Dad? I know it’s a bad time, but when are we going to go home? I have auditions tomorrow.”

Mom looks like she’s about to explode and is trying very hard to hold it together.

“Sydney, do you understand what is going on here?” she says to me like I’m a three-year-old, which just sets my teeth on edge.

“Yeah. I understand perfectly, Mom. Lara tried to kill herself, which is really, really awful. I was scared she was going to die just like you were. Now she’s going to be okay. I’m happy and relieved about that, honestly, I am. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that Lara’s messing my life up again, just like she always does.”

Mom opens her mouth, probably to tell me how awful and selfish I am, but Dad gestures to her to be quiet.

He puts his arm around me and guides me down the hall away from Lara Watch and my angry mother, who, as usual, doesn’t understand me.

“I need a snack. How about you?”

“I want to go home,” I tell him, my voice cracking despite all my best efforts to stay cool. “I want to be able to audition for the musical tomorrow. I don’t want Lara to ruin this like she does everything.”

Dad stops and turns me so I’m facing him, with his hands on my shoulders. He looks down at me, and when I notice the shadows and lines around his eyes, I feel bad for causing him more problems. But then my fists clench, because why should I always have to be the one who feels bad? I’ve worked hard and now Lara’s screwing things up for me. Story of my life.

“Honey, I know this seems unfair to you,” Dad says. “It
is
unfair. There’s nothing fair about it.”

“So? How come we can’t go home, then?”

I’ve got two parents here, and they each have a car. One of them could drive me home.

Dad sighs heavily.

“Because we’re a family, and we love and support each other. We’re part of a team. Sometimes,” he says, patting my shoulder, “you just have to take one for the team.”

I shrug his hand off my shoulder. I can’t believe this is happening, again. Actually I can. That’s what’s so messed up about it.

“How come it’s always
me
who has to take one for the team?” I ask, fighting a lump of angry tears in my throat. “When’s it going to be someone else’s turn?”

Someone else like
Lara
, for example. But of course, I can’t say that, especially not now.

“Oh, honey, I know …”

Dad hugs me, but I stand stiffly. I don’t want his hug right now. I just want him to take me home. But
that’s
not going to happen.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text.

“Go back to Lara,” I say. “I’ll be
taking one for the team
in the family waiting room.”

I can tell he’s torn. He wants to be by Lara’s side, but he’s trying to make it up to me for missing auditions. Like taking me for some crummy hospital cafeteria food could actually do that. Nice try, Dad.

“Are you sure you’re not hungry?” Dad asks.

“I’ll come get you if I am.”

He kisses the top of my head and heads back to Lara, the important child.

I walk to the visitors lounge to read my text. I need time away from the family drama to be angry on my own.

The text is from Liam.

Hey, Syd. Saw Lara taken in ambulance. Is she okay? Are YOU okay?

I hesitate before texting Liam back. Ever since Lara and Bree stopped being friends, it’s been kind of awkward for us. Like, before, our families used to hang out and do stuff together all the time. Our dads even built a tree fort in the huge oak tree in the Connors backyard when we were younger. It was supposed to be for all of us, but Lara and Bree made it theirs, telling Liam and me that we weren’t welcome because we didn’t know whatever stupid secret passwords they’d made up. Back then, it was Lara and Bree against the two of us despised younger siblings.

Until Lara started having problems in middle school, and eventually they started hating on each other instead.

Even after Lara and Bree stopped being friends, Liam and I still hung out. But then once we got to middle school, he started acting all weird, like I’d suddenly developed a highly contagious disease. It’s only recently we’ve started talking again. Still, it’s kind of out of the blue for him to text me.

It’s only because he asks about me, not just about Lara, that I decide to text him back. Because he cares about how
I’m
doing, too.

At least someone does.

Lara awake. Mom’s talking to the police. Me = wanna go home.

Wow. Glad she’s okay. Hope u can go home soon. Do you know what made her do it?

Did u see her FB page? What that guy Christian wrote?

No. Hold on.

I flip through the pages of a two-month-old
People
magazine while waiting for him to look up Lara’s page. I skip anything that has to do with real-life stories. The Kelley family has its own
People
drama going on, thanks. I’ll stick to deciding who wears it better in the Fashion Faceoff.

My phone buzzes.

I can’t BELIEVE it … Man, people are sick. I’m so sorry.

It’s not your fault.

Well … I’m REALLY sorry for that pic Bree posted on her FB page. I swear. I’m embarrassed we’re related right now.

Picture Bree posted? What picture?

I go to Facebook on my phone and look up Bree’s page. When I do, I want to throw up. Or throw the phone away, or, better yet, at someone, namely Bree Connors.

Bree posted a picture of my unconscious sister being wheeled toward the ambulance. As if that weren’t bad enough, it has seventy-seven likes and, although there are some expressions of concern and sympathy, some of the comments underneath are so awful, so cruel, that they make me hate Bree, hate Liam, hate everyone in the entire world.

Syd?

I switch off my phone. I don’t care if he’s sorry. I can’t text with him right now. I want to shut off the entire disgusting, mean, insane world.

And as I think that, I suddenly understand what might have made Lara do it.

It’s not easy being Lara’s sister. If she weren’t my sister, I probably wouldn’t be her friend. But she
is
my sister. And nobody,
nobody
, sister or no sister, deserves what I just saw on that page.

M
Y PICTURE
of Lara has 104 likes and 15 shares by the time Mom gets home. That’s the most I’ve ever gotten on any picture or status update, ever. Wonder if I should Instagram it? #Call911

“Tell me everything,” Mom says, putting a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter.

“How could you stop and wheel a cart around the supermarket like nothing happened?” I ask her. “Aren’t you at all … you know,
freaked out
by this?”

Mom has her hand in the bag, starting to unload it, and she stops and gives me an exasperated look.

“I assume you want dinner, Breanna. And if that’s the case, then someone, namely me, had to get food to make it with.” She takes out a package of chicken. “Unless you have a better idea.”

Which of course, I don’t, and Mom knows that when I blush and say nothing.

“Just tell me what happened,” she says.

“We heard sirens. Like, when I called you. The police car came first. Then the ambulance. All the neighbors were outside the Kelleys’ house watching. Then the medics wheeled Lara out on a stretcher, put her in the ambulance, and drove away with lights and sirens. She tried to … kill herself.”

“Yeah, and Bree took a picture of her and posted it on Facebook.”

My brother is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, narrow-eyed, cell phone in hand.

“You
what
?”

When I see my mom’s expression it’s like when you’re at the beach and you see that really huge wave coming toward you, and you don’t know if you should try to ride it or dive under, and if you hesitate too long, you get nailed by it. I wait a second too long to answer and Mom goes nuclear.

“Breanna Marie Connors, what part of ‘hang tight and stay inside’ didn’t you understand? I told you to stay in the house and make sure Liam did, too. Simple instructions. Not rocket science.”

It’s so unfair. Liam was the one who disobeyed Mom first, but
I
get the grief. And she makes out like I’m stupid, as usual.

“Liam wouldn’t
listen
! I
told
him you said to stay in, and he completely ignored me and walked straight out the door!
He’s
the one who went out first.”

“Is that true?” Mom turns to Liam, who’s still leaning against the doorjamb.

He glares back at her defiantly. “Yeah. They’re our friends, right? I thought they might need help. Isn’t that what friends are
supposed
to do?”

Mom’s lips purse, and I know he’s got her there. Sure, Lara and I have drifted apart, but at least on the surface my parents and the Kelleys are still friendly.

“
Helping
doesn’t mean taking pictures and posting them on Facebook,” Mom snaps.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Liam says, not hiding his disgust with me. He nods in my direction. “That’s Miss ‘I’ll Do Anything No Matter How Sick to Get Likes on Facebook.’ ”

Mom takes off her suit jacket, slowly and deliberately, and I feel acid in the back of my throat, because I know I’m about to be hit by another wave of her anger any moment.

“Liam, I need to speak to your sister privately,” she says.

Here it comes.

“Wait … before I go, I wanted to tell you … I texted Syd, and Lara’s awake,” Liam says.

I feel tears well up, but this time they’re ones of relief. “That’s … so great to hear,” I say. “Thanks for letting me know, Li.”

“Yes, it is,” Mom agrees, looking at me from the corner of her eye.

“Mrs. Kelley is talking to the police,” Liam adds, like it’s just some random factoid that’s he’s just happening to mention.

That is so NOT great news.

“What do you mean, the police?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Liam looks at me like I’m some kind of an idiot.

“The police always ask questions in the event of a suicide attempt, Bree,” Mom says, giving me a hush-up look.

“Syd says it’s because of some guy named Christian. Did you see what he wrote on her wall?”

The sound that comes from the back of my throat escapes despite my attempt to stifle it.

“Don’t tell me you’re friends with that guy, Bree,” Liam says. “What a jerk!”

“Christian who?” Mom asks. Her voice is calm, almost nonchalant. Like she’s never heard of anyone named Christian, ever.

“Christian DeWitt. He wrote all this sick stuff on Lara’s page, Mom,” Liam replies.

My eyes are trained on the point where the wooden table leg meets the floor. It’s where food and dust bunnies collect if you don’t clean the floor enough, which sometimes Mom doesn’t because she’s too busy at work, so she makes me do it. Once, I did a halfhearted job of sweeping and mopping the kitchen floor, and that’s the first place she checked because she knew I’d do a lousy job because “that’s the kind of kid you are.” As in I’m not a “go-getter who makes her own luck” like she is, so I’m “never going to get anywhere in this world.” She knew all that because of two missed Cheerios and a small dust bunny.

If I keep my eyes focused on that spot, they can’t give anything away.

“I know this is very unsettling, Liam, but Lara has never been the most stable girl, has she?” Mom says. “Remember what a mess she was in middle school?”

Mom’s finished unloading the groceries, and she takes out the chopping board and a knife to start preparing dinner.

“To be honest, I wasn’t that unhappy that she and Bree started drifting apart,” Mom continues. “I was worried it might get unhealthy for Bree to continue to hang around with her so much.”

Weird. She never told me that. In fact, if anything, I felt the opposite, because Mom has always been so obsessed with Mrs. Kelley. She started copying the way she dressed and the way she spoke. And she always laughed a little too loudly whenever Mr. Kelley told a joke. If Lara and I weren’t going to be BFFs anymore, it gave
her
less reason to be BFFs with Mr. and Mrs. Kelley.