I took another swig of whiskey. And I kept driving.
She’d be better off without me. My girl was a fighter, and she was resilient. I didn’t believe in much of anything anymore, but I still believed in her.
Part I
Chapter One
Lila
“Why do I have to wear a stupid dress?” I grumbled as my mom brushed the snarls out of my hair. I scowled at my reflection in the mirror. The sundress was yellow with white embroidered flowers. Flowers. Barf.
“Because the McCallisters invited us over for a barbecue.”
The McCallisters lived right up the road from our new house, so I guess that made them our neighbors. Yesterday, Kate McCallister stopped by to welcome us to the neighborhood and it turned out that she and Mom had known each other in college. Small world, they’d said, laughing and hugging like long lost friends.
“I can’t see why it should matter what I wear.”
“Stop being a grouch,” Mom teased, dividing my hair into three sections so she could braid it. She was smiling. Had been since Derek agreed to leave Houston and move to Cypress Springs, a small town in the Texas Hill Country. Mom was a nurse and would be starting her new job next week. Derek was an electrician and since he was self-employed, it didn’t matter where we lived, he could work anywhere.
“Two of the boys are the same age as you,” she said. “Maybe you can be friends.”
“I doubt it. Not when they see me in this dress. I look stupid.”
“You look pretty.” She tugged at the end of the French braid she’d just put in my hair. My eyes met hers in the mirror. They were the same shade of green as mine and we both had dark brown wavy hair. Everyone said I was the spitting image of her.
I stopped and thought about what she’d said. “Wait a minute. How could they both be my age?” My eyes widened. “Are they twins?”
“No. They’re cousins.”
“Oh.” My shoulders sagged in disappointment. Twins sounded like a lot more fun. They could fool people by pretending to be each other.
“Well, don’t you look pretty as a picture?” Derek said with a smile.
I forced a smile even though I was still annoyed about having to wear a dress.
“Derek gets to wear jeans and a T-shirt.” I scowled at the sunflowers on my flip-flops as we headed out the front door. I’d rather be wearing my Converse high tops. “How’s that fair?”
“Life ain’t fair, sweetheart,” he said with a chuckle. “You’ll learn that soon enough.”
Wasn’t the first time I’d heard that but I decided to stop complaining about it. Wouldn’t change anything. This was our new home and my mom insisted that I was going to love it here. She made it sound like one great big adventure. But she wasn’t the one who had to leave her best friend behind. I spun the purple friendship bracelet on my wrist around and around, wondering what Darcy was doing right now. Probably swimming in the pool at our apartment complex. I sighed longingly, thinking about the summer we’d planned during countless sleepovers. The summer that had been ruined when my mom announced we were moving.
Derek wrapped his tattooed arm around my mom’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head as the three of us walked up the road to the McCallister’s with me huffing along beside them. For seven whole years, it was just me and Mom, and that was just the way I liked it. Until she married Derek two years ago.
Now that she had him, I felt like the third wheel.
Life ain’t fair, sweetheart.
Ain’t that the truth.
The McCallisters lived in a big stone farmhouse with a wraparound porch on a couple acres of land. We ate on the back porch overlooking a field and a barn with rolling hills in the distance that Patrick McCallister said belonged to a ranch. He was a general contractor and owned a construction company. Judging by the size of their house and all the land, I got the feeling they were a lot richer than us. Within five minutes, the adults were laughing and talking like old friends while I was stuck at the kids’ table with the boys. All four of them.
Over burgers, corn on the cob, and potato salad, I learned quite a few things about the McCallister boys.
Number one: Jude McCallister was the most annoying boy in the world. A show-off and a know-it-all, he acted like he was the boss of us.
Number two: Jude’s cousin Brody had the worst manners of any boy I’d ever met. He chewed with his mouth open and ate his food so fast you’d think it was the first meal he’d had in years. When Jude reached for another ear of corn, Brody stabbed his hand with a fork.
Number three: Brody had just moved in with the family last month and hadn’t even met his cousins before that. I didn’t know the full story because when I asked where his mom was, Brody said, “It’s none of your damn business.”
Which had shocked me into silence. A nine-year-old wasn’t supposed to cuss and I told him so.
“I’m not nine,” he said around a mouthful of food. “I was ten on April tenth.”
“And I’ll be ten on August twentieth,” Jude said. “When’s your birthday?”
“May fifth,” I said reluctantly. I’d just turned nine, which meant they were both older than me. Jude, the know-it-all, was quick to do the math.
“You’re nine months younger than me and thirteen months younger than Brody.”
Like that made them so superior. It didn’t. They were both going into fourth grade, just like me.
Gideon was six and all he wanted to do was go inside and watch movies, but his parents said he wasn’t allowed. So he was sulking. Jesse, the baby of the family, was four and all kinds of adorable. He was cute and funny and had us laughing at the goofy things he said.
Now we’d all finished eating—except for Brody who was on his third helping of strawberry shortcake—and the adults told us to go off and play. Brody wanted to ride the horses but we weren’t allowed to do that without adult supervision so we had to come up with our own fun. Which was how we’d ended up in the field behind the house playing football.
“You won’t be able to catch it,” Jude the know-it-all said.
“Brody just caught it. I can too.” I eyed Brody. He was a lot smaller than Jude and kind of scrawny. He had knobby knees and sharp elbows and dark blond hair. Even though he had the same last name, Brody didn’t look like the rest of the blue-eyed, brown-haired McCallister boys.
Jude shook his head. “Brody’s tough. He’s used to catching a football. You’re a girl. In a dress,” he scoffed, tossing the ball high into the air and catching it in his hands.
“It’ll knock you on your butt,” Brody said, picking at a scab on his knee. Blood trickled down his calf. Gross.
“That’s if you can even catch it,” Jude said.
I wasn’t looking forward to fourth grade at my new school if it meant I’d have to see them every day. Jude was stalling, acting like it was a big deal when it really wasn’t. It was just a football, not a bomb.
“Just throw the stupid ball. What’s the matter? You scared a girl will catch it?” I taunted.
Jude snorted like the very idea was ridiculous. “You’re not gonna catch it.”