The Secrets We Keep(8)

The first hailstones hit the hood of the car like a steel drum hammering through my head. I turned the wipers on, but one was broken, a quarter of the rubber hanging off the blade. It did little to get rid of the water, rather smoothed it into a giant smear across the glass. Craning my head to see through the one clear spot, I pulled out onto the road.

The familiar chime of an incoming text had me glancing Maddy’s way. She whipped her phone out and started typing, pausing only long enough to angle the heat vents toward herself.

“Damage control going well over there?”

“What?” she asked, not bothering to look up from her phone.

“I asked if you had everything figured out over there. If you and Jenna got your stories straight.”

“What does Jenna have to do with anything?”

Jenna had everything to do with it. As far as I was concerned, she was the one who’d taken my sister away from me, introduced her to that crowd of popular people, and kept her there. If it wasn’t for Jenna, I’d still have my sister … my best friend. The one who used to camp out with me every Fourth of July in the backyard. The one who always gave me the bottom part of her ice cream cone for my baby doll Sarah. The one who took away the book Your Body and You that Mom had given me in the sixth grade and gave me her own, unadulterated version of the truth. Jenna had taken that Maddy away from me without asking, and I wanted her back.

“Jenna has everything to do with it,” I yelled. “Everything!”

Apparently I’d hit a nerve because for the first time since we got in the car she put her phone down and looked at me. “You have no idea what Jenna’s life is like. None whatsoever.”

Maybe not, but I didn’t care either way. “Doesn’t matter,” I said as I turned my eyes back to the road. “No matter how you slice it, she is still a mean, selfish cow.”


I didn’t need to look at my sister to tell she was getting annoyed. I could feel it, the air around us so thick with tension it was suffocating. “What’s your problem, Ella?”

I don’t know if it was my irritation with the wipers, that I was now freezing without my coat or shoes while she sucked up the heat, or because I was simply exhausted, nervous about getting into RISD, and stressed about the Physics test I still had to study for, but I snapped.

“My problem? My problem? I don’t know, how about the fact that I dropped everything to come and pick you up, yet you won’t tell me why? But the people who wouldn’t leave their beers long enough to drive you home … they get the whole story.”

She glanced at me, her mouth opening once to speak before she shut it and waved me off. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t. You worry so much about what they will think and say, but I’m the one who’s always bailing you out. I’m the one who took your Spanish test last week so that you could pass and not get kicked off the field hockey team for failing a class. I’m the one who’s tired and freezing my butt off over here so Mom and Dad won’t find out that you snuck out. The least you could do is—”

“You want your coat back, here, take it.”

She took off the shoulder portion of her seat belt and tucked it under her arm, then tugged at the sleeves of my jacket. I held my hand up to stop her. I didn’t want the coat; she could sleep in it for all I cared. “It’s not about the coat, Maddy. It’s about me always having to pick up your pieces.”

“I never asked you to—”

“You called me. You. Called. Me. Me!”

“Maybe,” she said, and shrugged. “But you didn’t have to come.”

I had to swallow hard to hold back my tears. I’d always done whatever she asked. But no matter what I did or how far I went for her, she’d kept me on the outside, five safe steps away from her and her inner circle.

When we were kids, I knew everything about her. We had one diary until the age of thirteen. One. Each day one of us would write in it, then hand it to the other to read and write her own entry. The embarrassment I felt on my first day of middle school when I tripped and fell in the cafeteria, my lunch going everywhere. The pain Maddy felt when she found out the boy she liked in seventh grade bet his friends he could get her to make out with him in the janitor’s closet. And the fear and excitement that first time we went off to camp the summer before fifth grade, wondering if people would like us, but not really caring because we had each other. Back then we shared everything, including those things that were too embarrassing to say out loud. Now, I was lucky if I got a nod of acknowledgment as I passed her in the hall.

“I’m not doing this anymore, Maddy. You’re on your own with school, with Mom and Dad, with everything.”

“Wait … What? Why?” She anxiously rattled the questions off, not giving me time to answer before continuing. “You can’t do that. If they find out, I’m screwed. They’ll ground me for weeks. I can’t. Alex’s birthday is next week, and the Snow Ball is coming up, plus Jenna’s having a—you can’t. You’re my sister, you can’t.”

“Not my problem.”

“Why, Ella? Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m not doing anything. That’s the point, Maddy. I’m not doing anything for you anymore. Like I said, you’re on your own. I do all the work and you get—”