I wasn’t concerned about people hearing her if they stopped by the house while we were away, either. Nobody ever did, but I’d put the rug over the trapdoor and added some boxes of supplies to muffle any of her nonsense. All she could do was scream and shout, and she’d soon tire. Give up when she realized nobody would come.
Standing on the porch now, I couldn’t resist going back for another look to see if Lily had woken up, tell her she had to keep quiet if she wanted me to let her out, but I needn’t have bothered. All was still. Maybe she was dead after all. It would make things easier for her if she was. I went into the new storage room Ash had built for me, stared at the driftwood pieces I’d carefully laid out on the shelves, thinking that once we got back from Brookmount, it would just be the two of us again. Without all these distractions I’d finish the website Lily had so kindly started to put together for me. I’d work on my art. I’d help Ash find a job locally and do whatever it took to make him see our life was perfect, that we belonged together. We could at last be that happy family we so deserved.
Satisfied everything would finally work out the way I wanted it to, I walked over to the door, ready to lock up, was three feet away when it crashed open and Ash rushed in, his face gray. I peered past him at my car parked askew, realized with the double insulation in the room I hadn’t heard him arrive.
“What’s wrong?” I moved closer, ready to grab him in case he passed out, but he backed off, standing in the open doorway without uttering another word. He held out his hand, turned it around and opened his fingers one by one. My breath stalled as I saw what he was holding. A butterfly necklace.
“It’s Celine’s,” he said, his voice so low and strained, I barely heard him.
“I’ve never seen—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he said, eyes narrowing, jaw clenched. “I bought it for her. Fiona showed me a picture. Celine never took it off. Never.” He thrust the necklace closer to my face. “You knew I hurt her, didn’t you?” When I couldn’t answer he grabbed my shoulders. “Didn’t you?”
“Let’s go to the house.”
“Tell me what I did to her.” His voice bounced around the room as he grabbed me harder and gave me a shake, his eyes wild. He looked dangerous and powerful, the way I’d felt when I hit Lily with the driftwood, and right then I didn’t think I could ever love him more. He was ready for the truth. If I told him now, he’d understand everything about us, and he’d realize why we had to be together. And so I opened my mouth, and began to speak.
34
MAYA
The day Celine went missing was a perfect storm of circumstance. Over the past months she and Ash had spent every day together. They sat on the bus on the way to and from school, her head always resting on his shoulder, his hand on her thigh, their fingers entwined. After dinner, and every weekend, he’d leave the house. Neither Mom, Brad nor I bothered asking where he was going anymore, we all knew, and consequently I spent my days and evenings alone.
Since my notebook had fallen out of my backpack on the bus, and been passed around, the whispers and taunts had intensified. Rude notes with gross drawings had made their way into my locker. Pictures of a naked boy having sex with a naked, dark-haired girl, images of what were supposed to be me, with a penis in my mouth or my butt, the word BROTHERFUCKER scrawled underneath. I ignored them at first and threw them in the trash, but they kept appearing.
I didn’t tell Ash then, was too embarrassed to show him what people thought I wanted to do with him. They were wrong. I loved Ash and longed to be close to him, yes, but not in that way. Not until we were older and had a place of our own. I imagined a house and two children, a dog and a cat, maybe some fish. He’d have his own business, I’d be a famous artist and we’d be deliriously happy, exactly like Brad and Mom were. They’d come over with gifts for the kids at Christmas, Thanksgiving and for birthdays. We’d take trips together in the summer. We’d be a perfect family.
If I showed Ash the disgusting drawings, he’d never give me the future I wanted, and so I said nothing, and sulked whenever he wasn’t at home. When I’d tried talking to Mom about how often he was out, she’d brushed me off.
“Whether you like it or not, you have to get used to him having a girlfriend, Bee,” she’d said. “I’m sorry, honey, but the truth is he doesn’t want to hang out with his kid stepsister all the time. It’s normal, I’m afraid.” As if all she’d said hadn’t hurt enough, she added, “He’s a handsome boy. And Celine’s lovely. She deserves to be with someone like Ash.”
With a small smile she’d muttered something about having another headache and needing to lie down, but I’d stopped paying attention. The words kid stepsister made me want to run for the bathroom and throw up as my world, and the future I’d imagined us having, imploded and collapsed around me. Mom was right, Ash saw me as a child, and worse, his sister. In the past months I’d tried everything to change his perception. I’d taken down all my babyish posters and replaced them with grown-up ones we’d chosen together. Brad had helped me repaint my room, covering the sickly pastel pink with an eggshell white, and making an emerald green feature
