Family of Liars(44)

I go on. “The question isn’t why did Pfeff do what Pfeff did. The answer is obvious. It’s because you’re beautiful, and you get whatever you want, and everyone wants you. The question is, why did you do what you did. To me.” The perimeter walk is windy and cold. Our hair is whipping around us.

“I didn’t do it to you!” cries Penny. “I told you that already.”

“Well, I feel like you did!” I shout. “I feel like you went behind my back and kissed my boyfriend, and I don’t see how you can possibly say you didn’t do it to—”

“I did it to Erin,” she yells. “Okay? To Erin.”

“What? Why would Erin care?”

“Don’t be stupid,” says Penny.

“I’m not. I—”

“Figure it out.”

“I can’t. I don’t— Why would Erin care?”

“She and I are together,” Penny says. “Okay? I mean, we were. We— It started just at the end of the school year, when she stopped going out with Aldo, and I was never all that interested in Lachlan, and then I—well, I’ve had feelings for girls for a long time,” she finishes. “A very long time.”

I reel. I am stupid.

I never thought.

Penny goes on. “I know Daddy and Mother will be just—ugh.”

“Not the best.”

“Not the best. And I like boys, too. I think. Maybe not. I don’t know. I don’t want to disappoint them. The parents. I can’t deal with all of it.” She tries to catch her hair, which is whipping around her head in the wind. She pulls most of it back and snaps it into an elastic she has been wearing around her wrist, making her face look suddenly severe. “Don’t tell Bess.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” she goes on. “I haven’t told anyone. I don’t even know if I’m— I don’t know yet, is all. And Erin, when she first got here, everything was great, and it was like, this beautiful secret romance, but then, I don’t know. The newness wore off, maybe. For her. Or she was just goofing around or experimenting or something. She isn’t into it anymore, is what I’m saying, and we had this fight about whether she should go home tomorrow. She wants to go home and then be just friends at school, like we used to be, and have boyfriends and all that. And I wanted to make her want to stay, you know? Like if I kissed somebody else, she’d get jealous, and then she’d realize that she cared, and then she’d stay.” Penny wrings her hands. “I hoped that, anyway. Or maybe I wanted to hurt her.”

“Sounds like you.”

“Or maybe I wanted to tell myself I like guys. If I could just like guys, everything would be easy. Nothing that happened with Erin would even count, at all. Part of me was thinking that. You know? Like, it’s not too late to just be a straight girl. I should just like a guy instead. Easy to do.”

I know I should tell her she’s perfect just the way she is.

I should tell her it’s beautiful to love whomever she loves. Because it’s true.

I should tell her I’ll back her with our parents if she ever wants to tell them.

But Penny has just betrayed me. “Maybe that’s a good idea,” I say sharply. “But you didn’t have to like Pfeff.”

“There’s no one else here!” cries Penny.

“Then you shouldn’t have been with anyone,” I say. “You should have thought, Carrie watches out for me. Carrie loves me. Carrie always has my back. She’s loyal, that Carrie. She’s a stand-up person. And even though I can throw her over and crush her heart and take her boyfriend, even though I can do it, I’m not going to. Because she’s my sister and I don’t want to hurt her. Because there are some lines you shouldn’t cross. Some things that once you’ve done them, you can never, ever take them back, and I actually value my relationship with my stand-up, loyal sister more than any of the other stupid stuff that’s going on in my head right now. You should have just been a halfway good person, Penny. Why is that so hard? That’s not even a high bar for being a good person. Everyone knows this rule. It’s very basic. Don’t kiss your sister’s boyfriend, because if you do, you’re a goddamned asshole.”

Penny chokes with sobs, not hiding behind her hands like I would, but just letting the tears run down her delightful, delicate face, her mouth curled into a grimace of agony. “I’m sorry,” she says.

It strikes me as a bit theatrical. Penny is performing her agitation. Standing in the moonlight for maximum drama.

“I don’t care that you’re sorry,” I snap. “I care that you did it. I won’t ever forget that you value me so little. Not ever.”

I turn and run down the walkway, leaving her alone.





48.


I SLEEP LATE the next morning. Rosemary doesn’t wake me. I haven’t seen her in some time.

I wonder if she is sulking.

I am sore and headachy. My skin is clammy. I don’t remember going to sleep last night.

When I go into our shared bathroom, Bess is curling her hair—teasing it and spraying on hair spray.

“Go swimming and it’ll all be straight again,” I tell her.

“That doesn’t matter. I’m practicing,” she answers. “So I can be good at it when I get back to North Forest. If I can wash it the night before and then get my routine down to ten minutes in the morning, I’ll be able to—” She breaks off and puts the curling iron down. “Oh, Carrie, about last night.”