The next weekend, the party honoring Annabelle Prath is in full swing in Victor’s back yard. The windows along the back of his house, between the kitchen and the pool, have all been folded back to create one big party area which Amelia has filled with tables, waiters, bars – even a small dance floor

“Come on, boys,” Victor says, walking unannounced into my kitchen the next day. Note to self, I think, narrowing my eyes. Get a deadbolt for the back door. “We’re taking the day off!” Alvin and Ian throw their hands in the air, shouting with joy and excitement. “No,” I say, my voice low. “Today i

“Hello?” Victor’s mechanized voice scratches through the phone. “Hey,” I say. “It’s nice to hear from you.” Victor hesitates on the other side of the line and I realize, feeling stupid, that I’m talking to him like a friend. I clear my throat and sit up straight in my closet. “So, why don’t you t

“Ian, you need to slow down!” I call after him, shaking my head as he bursts through Victor’s back door like a tornado. Alvin isn’t far behind him. “Boys –“ I step into the kitchen moments later and see that they’ve left chaos on their wake. Their backpacks are thrown on the floor and four little s

I slam my door behind me and press my back against it, slipping down to the floor and crying into my hands. Amelia’s words echo after me – sham, slut, whore. Disappear. In so many ways, they’re all true. Glad, for once, to be in an empty house, I let myself cry my heart out, reliving all of the dar