Girl on the Other Side (9 page)

“Take a seat, Mr. McGurk!” she says, pushing him down onto the chair. “It's time to settle down and get started.”

On her way back, she stops by Tabby's desk to return the wallet and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. Sympathy oozes from her kind face.

“Are you all right, Miss Freeman?”

Tabby flinches away from Miss Wall's hand and doesn't reply. For the rest of the class, she sits there in stony silence. When the bell rings at the end of class, Tabby leaps from her chair and hurries out the door. Though I've never liked her, I feel sorry for her as I watch her go. Her shoulders are hunched over and her head is down. She looks like — what's that animal with the round shell called? Oh yeah, an armadillo. She looks like an armadillo trying to scuttle away to safety.

I gather up my books and follow her out. For the first time in my life, I'm not the one getting picked on. So why do I feel so bad about it?

May 15

tabby

My life is crumbling to pieces around me. At school, the kids are getting meaner by the day. Last Wednesday, there was spit dripping down the front of my locker when I arrived in the morning. Totally disgusting! I complained to the principal, but it didn't do any good because I found more spit on my locker today.

At home, David and Catherine are fighting for their lives and Nanny's perma-smile has been replaced with a wide-eyed look of fear. And as for me, I'm a total wreck. I don't sleep much anymore. Night time is when
they
come — the anonymous voices yelling and cursing our family from the shadows of the street. The first night, they threw eggs, tomatoes, and garbage at our house and I hid under my blanket with Sam. The second night, they threw rocks. When a large stone shattered my bedroom window, I picked up Sam and ran screaming down to Nanny's room to hide out until morning. As soon as Catherine and David called the police, the attacks stopped. But I'm still too scared to sleep much. Night after night, I lie awake in my bed listening for noises and waiting for them to come back. While I lie there, I think a lot about what I've done to this family. The ball of pain that began in my stomach after sending that email is still there — and it's growing bigger with every passing night. My awful secret is rotting inside me. I know the only way to get rid of it is to do something drastic.

I know I have to confess.

This morning, before I get out of bed, I stare at the ceiling and promise myself that this will be the day I tell Catherine and David the truth about the email. My whole body is twitching with nerves as I walk down the stairs to meet them for breakfast. It's early in the morning, but they're already in the kitchen — sipping their coffees and whispering about the huge mess their lives have become. I sit down at the table, my chest so tight I can barely pull in a breath.

“Good morning, darling,” Catherine says, passing me an empty cereal bowl and spoon. Her eyes are glazed over with exhaustion, but she manages a weak smile. I find myself smiling back. Funny, for the first time in my life, I'm kind of getting used to eating meals with Catherine and David. Lately, we've been starting to feel a little bit like a real family — a highly dysfunctional family, but still. Will it all fall apart when I tell them about the email?

All through breakfast, the secret sits in my belly churning and rumbling to get out. But whenever I open my mouth to start talking, the words rise up and catch in my throat. How can I admit what I did? I don't even know where to start. What will they do when I tell them that I ruined their lives? Will they scream at me? Ground me for life? Kick me out of the house? Disown me?

Breakfast comes and goes and I don't say a word. On my way to school, I decide to write my confession down. I normally hate writing, but it's the only thing I can think of to help me sort out my thoughts. So when I get home, I stretch out on my bed with a notepad and pen. Instead of working on that lame poetry assignment for English, I scribble out my confession.

Catherine, David, I have something to tell you
.
You don't
know this, but I'm the reason you got arrested. I told everyone
your secret. Everything that's happening right now is my fault.

Halfway through, I begin to cry. My tears dot the page and blur the ink, but I keep going. Sam scooches across the bed and starts licking the tears from my cheeks. “Thanks boy,” I say, grateful for his loyalty. He's the only one in this house who hasn't turned into a total head case these past few weeks. When I'm done writing, I read my script over and over, memorizing it like homework.

“Tonight at dinner — that's when I'll tell them, okay, boy?” I say to Sam — as if saying it out loud to a dog will give me the guts to go through with it. For an answer, he rolls over onto his back and whines for me to rub his belly.

That night in the dining room I'm still too nervous to tell them — even with the whole speech planned out. Before I know it, the meal is over; Nanny has cleared the table and is cleaning up in the kitchen.

Come on, Tabby!
the little voice in my head screams.
Don't be such a chicken! Do it now!

Realizing that my chance is slipping away, I push my seat back from the table and open my mouth. This time, the words rise all the way to my lips. But before I can start, Catherine cuts in with a speech of her own.

“Darling, as you know, this has been a difficult time for our family,” she says. I can tell from the stiffness of her voice that her words are just as rehearsed as mine. “Your father and I have been under a lot of stress,” she continues. “We've been talking a lot over the past few weeks and we've agreed that we need to make some changes. And … well … one of the first things we have to do is to start cutting back.”

I frown, feeling my confession slide back down into my stomach. “What do you mean? On what?”

My parents exchange glances. “You tell her,” Catherine says with a sigh. She turns her head and starts wiping at her eye, as if there was a speck of dust or something stuck in there. It's not mascara — I know that for sure. She hasn't worn any makeup since the night of the arrest. With a nod, David picks up where Catherine has left off. His beard is fully grown in now, making him seem more like a lumberjack than a businessman.

“What your mother means is that we have to start cutting back on our finances,” he explains. “As you know, the office has been shut down indefinitely. We have no money coming in right now. And, unfortunately, we're not the only ones. Because of these charges, there are a lot of people who've found themselves out of work. Most of them have been with the firm from the early days when we were just starting out. They've been very loyal to us over the years and I'd like to offer them some severance pay.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. Since when do you care so much about anyone else?”

He ignores my comment and keeps talking. His voice has changed in these past few weeks — he's lost that hard, angry edge.

“We also have mounting lawyers' fees and we're really beginning to feel tight for cash. It's time to start thinking about the future and that's going to mean some changes around here. Some pretty drastic changes.”

“Oh no … like what?” I don't even try to hide the sarcasm in my voice. I mean, how can anything be more drastic than David getting hauled off to jail and Catherine ditching her makeup?

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“Your mother and I have decided that we're going to put the house up for sale in the next few weeks. And we're going to sell one of the cars and cancel our trip to Italy this summer. And …” he pauses and turns his ear toward the kitchen. We can all hear the sound of water running and dishes clattering as Nanny cleans up from the meal. With a sad shake of his head, David lowers his voice to a whisper and says, “… I'm sorry to tell you this, but we've decided to give Beth her notice. We'll tell her next week and of course, she'll get a generous severance, as well.”

“What?”

I stare at them in shock. My eyes jump from his face to hers. They stare back at me, looking like a pair of wounded animals. Clearly, this is no joke.

“We're letting Nanny Beth go,” he repeats. His words hang in the air like a bad smell. Suddenly, I feel something inside me snap. My mouth springs open and all the pent-up anger I've kept bottled inside for so many years comes erupting out of me.

“Shut up! How can you do this to her? This isn't
her
fault!” I can feel my voice swelling into a scream as I point to the kitchen. “She's got a daughter to support back in the Philippines — a sick daughter. Did you even know that? How can you treat her like this? You two are the criminals here!”

They make me so sick. I want to hurt them, kick them, hit them, make them cry. I clench my fists as my eyes dart around the table, looking for something valuable to throw. Out of desperation, I pick up a small crystal vase and hurl it down onto the marble floor. Catherine jumps in her seat at the sound of the smash. She looks like a frightened child. But still, I keep going.

“You're both so selfish! You've never given a damn about anybody but yourselves!”

The water in the kitchen stops running and I know Nanny is listening, too. But I can't stop myself. Even though my throat is starting to hurt, I keep going. I'm like a bottle of soda that's been shaken too hard.

“Why did you do it, anyway? Did we really need money so badly that you had to steal it? Look at this house! It's the biggest one in town and you've barely even lived in it. And you own the flashiest car in town and you don't even like to drive! You two are whacked! I'm glad they arrested you! You deserved to get caught! I hope both of you rot in jail!”

The flames on the dinner candles flicker with the force of my screams. And the louder I scream, the quieter they get. Catherine looks like someone has slapped her across the face, which gives me a nice feeling of satisfaction. But when she lowers her head into her hands and starts to sob, I feel a surprising twinge of regret. For a second, my anger disappears. I stop screaming and pull in a long, shuddery breath as a thought flashes through my mind.

Oh my God — is it actually possible that maybe
I'm
being
the selfish one here?

But when David walks over with his arms outstretched and tries to give me a hug, I feel my fury flare up again.

“No! Don't touch me!” I shriek, pushing him away. “I hate you both!” I fire them a look of pure poison and jump up from my chair. Crunching through the mess of broken crystal, I stomp off to my room and fling myself onto my bed.

Five minutes later, there's a soft knock at my door. I know it has to be Nanny Beth, coming to comfort me and to find out what had happened.

“Come in,” I say, taking a long, slow breath to calm myself down. I don't know if I'm ready to talk, but I know her smile and gentle voice will help to soothe me as always. But to my shock, it's not Nanny who walks through the door.

It's David.

I can feel my body tense up again, getting ready for another fight. But before I can say a word, he sits down at the foot of my bed and begins to speak. His body is trembling so much that I can feel the tremors in the mattress springs. It's almost like there's a miniature earthquake happening inside him. I force my anger down for a minute and hear him out.

“I'm so sorry, Tabitha,” he begins. “Every single thing you said down there was true. Your mother and I
have
been selfish. And you've suffered from it more than anyone. But I want all that to change. I've had the chance to do a lot of thinking over these past few weeks. In fact, the night I spent in that jail was a revelation of sorts. It forced me to start re-examining my character, my priorities, my values. I've begun to understand that I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. And by far, the biggest mistake I've made has been messing up my relationship with you.”

He looks at me with those eyes that are so exactly like mine, and for the first time in my life I don't totally hate him.

“I want to be a good father,” he continues. “In fact, I
know
I can be a good father. But you have to be willing to give me a chance. I wouldn't blame you if you said no … but maybe you could just think about it? We could start all over again — be a real family. That's what your mother and I are both hoping for …”

David's voice fades away to a whisper and his eyes fill with tears. I sit there on my bed, too shocked to say anything. I‘ve never seen my father cry before. What is he doing? Why is he being so nice to me? I don't want to forgive him. That would be letting him off too easy. I want him to keep hurting.

“So it's all true, then?” I ask, keeping my voice stony and cold. “You really did steal from all those people?”

He closes his eyes and nods.

“When I started the law firm, I was desperate to succeed and I did some terrible things back in those early years to get the business off the ground. I lied and I cheated and I stole. But that was a long time ago. I've changed my ways since then. For the past five years, I've been walking the straight and narrow — making an honest living. Unfortunately, that doesn't erase the mistakes I made before. And those mistakes are what I'm paying for now.”

He hangs his head. The room swells with an uneasy silence. Suddenly, my own confession rises to my lips. Before I know what's happening, it flies out of my mouth and attacks David.

“I betrayed you and Catherine. It was me.”

“What?” He lifts his face to meet mine. His eyes are wide and lines of confusion slash across his forehead. My well-rehearsed script disappears from my head as the hateful words tumble from my lips.

“I spread an email. I called you guys liars and crooks and made sure it got around town. That's why the police arrested you when they did.”