The Cheerleaders(68)

“I got this.” I set my detention slip on the counter and push it toward her.

She looks up at me. Sticks her fingers beneath her reading glasses and rubs her eyelids before peering at me. “What is it?”

“I have detention tomorrow.”

Her expression is flat. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. I was in the yearbook office during lunch and Mrs. Coughlin wrote me up for not having a pass. It’s stupid.”

My mother ignores the detention slip and turns back to her booster form. “I’ll call her after dinner and get you out of it.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” She takes off her glasses and sets them on the counter. “You’re going to miss practice if you’re in detention.”

And so will Ginny. “I don’t care. Coach is ready to cut me from the competition team anyway.”

I wait for her to yell. But she just sighs. “Fine. No computer or cell phone until the weekend.”

Now I feel a flutter of panic. “You can’t take my computer. I have to write a paper for English tonight.”

She pushes her stool away from the counter, jolting me. She storms down the hall off the kitchen, making a right into Tom’s office. A beat later, Petey shouts from the living room: “HEY! Who turned the Wi-Fi off?”

My mother steps out of Tom’s office and zeroes in on me. “There. You don’t need the Internet for an English paper.”

“This is such bullshit.”

“Do you need to see Dr. Feit?”

My stomach starts pumping acid. Dr. Feit is her therapist; my sister saw him once after Juliana and Susan were killed. I don’t know how my mother can stand the sight of him.

“Are you seriously threatening to send me to a shrink?”

“I don’t know what else to do, Monica. I’m tired of watching you turn into someone else.” Her cheeks flush. “If you keep acting like this, you’re eventually going to do something Tom and I can’t fix for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to fix anything,” I say.

She turns away from me and I scream inside my head, Don’t fucking cry.

“Do you realize that you didn’t even hug me?” I ask. “After Dr. Bob’s. You wouldn’t even touch me.”

My mother flinches at “Dr. Bob’s.” Cranes her neck to the living room, obviously worried that Petey heard, like my little brother has any idea what she’s talking about.

“I took care of you. Everything I do is for you and your brother.”

“You hug him,” I say. “You won’t come near me. Do I really remind you of her that much?”

“Go upstairs, Monica. I’m tired of talking about this.”

“Talking about what? Jen? You won’t talk about her. That’s the point.” I’m about to erupt. I’m tired of keeping this shit to myself and I’m sick of my mother acting like my sister’s name is a forbidden word in this house.

“No, I do not want to talk about her.” My mother looks as livid as I am. “I don’t want to think about the worst day of my life and every way I could have stopped it. I couldn’t protect her, and I can’t protect you.”

I don’t know what to say. I spin on my heels, because I don’t even want to look at her anymore.

“Monica. Wait.”

I turn around. My mother’s hand is outstretched. “Give me your phone.”

I pat my pocket and flinch. I totally forgot to stop by Mr. Franken’s office and get my phone back from him.

“My chem teacher took it away,” I say. “I don’t even have it.”

“Wonderful. Upstairs. We’re eating in an hour.” She shakes her head and all it does is infuriate me, because it’s like at this point she’s expecting me to screw up every day.

I stomp out of the kitchen and up the stairs. It’s not until I’m shut in my room that I silently thank God Mr. Franken has my phone and that my mother can’t go through four weeks’ worth of texts between Ginny and me.



* * *



—

The sky is cornflower blue and cloudless in the morning. Rachel and Alexa don’t say much on the ride to school, casting furtive glances toward me whenever there’s a beat of silence. I don’t have the energy to ask why they’re treating me with kid gloves.

When we get to school and see the white lilies resting against the flagpole outside the gym, I understand their awkwardness. Tomorrow is the anniversary of Bethany’s and Colleen’s deaths, and today is the memorial.

After homeroom, Mrs. Barnes’s voice comes over the loudspeaker, instructing all students to report to the courtyard for a special ceremony. A freshman science class pours out into the hall after the announcement, some of the kids whooping and hollering. No first period! Sweet, I have gym!

I can’t do this. Even with Rachel beside me, I can’t go out there and deal with the stares from my classmates. I don’t want to be the suicide girl’s sister today.

The tightness in my chest gets worse when we reach the crowd funneling through the double doors leading out to the courtyard. Mrs. Coughlin swoops by, holding a bouquet of pink balloons.

I feel my free hand curl into a fist. “What the hell are those for?”