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“What the hell is she doing here?” Crossing my arms fails to hide the tremble of fury vibrating beneath my skin.

On her way toward the kitchen, Aunt Midge pauses to look me up and down, her left eye squinting as she sucks in a drag of her cigarette. “New clothes?”

“Yeah. Irrelevant. Why is she here?”

“Fancy, schmancy,” she says, as she passes me, not answering my question.

My mother stands in the center of the room, rubbing her arm, looking around as though she’s searching for a needle to inject. Nervous, from the looks of it.

I follow after Aunt Midge, who throws the coffee pot onto the stove, and lean in to get her attention, lowering my voice. “Why is she here?”

Blowing out an exasperated sigh, she leans closer. “So, I get a call from her from some unknown number. Her boyfriend skipped town. Took a bunch of drugs with him. I guess some bigtime drug dealer is after him now.” Her gaze slides from mine. “And her.”

“So, you brought her here? Are you nuts?”

“What was I go

“She’s my mother, but that doesn’t mean I think you should help her every time she steps in a pile of shit and gets dirty.”

Shoving the cigarette back between her lips, she shakes her head and fires up the stove. “You don’t get it. That’s okay. You’re a kid.”

“I’m nineteen. I dealt with her shit for ten years. I get it more than you know.”

Setting her hand on her hip is the first sign that I’m starting to piss her off, but I don’t care. This was not one of her smarter decisions. “And you would’ve just stood by and let some criminal gun her down?”

“Karma’s a bitch. Isn’t that what you always say?”

“She’s your mother, Isa. Your mother. Yeah, she’s done a shit job, but it doesn’t change who she is. It’s not right to want to see her suffer. Those dealers in Roxbury don’t fuck around.”

Son of a bitch. “Roxbury? She was in Roxbury?”

“Apparently so.”

“Jesus, Aunt Midge.” Lodging my fingers in my hair is all I can do to keep from yanking every strand out of my head. “You can’t let her stay here. You’re going to wake up and find all our shit missing.”

“Cash is put away. I stashed all my jewelry, too. Only thing that’s worth a damn is the shitty TV, and I doubt she can lift a fucking cup of coffee at the moment.”

“I’m not staying here.” Crossing my arms, I shake my head. I hate having to make her choose, but she has no idea what kind of shit-storm my mother can create without even trying. “Either she goes, or I go.”

“C’mon, Isa. Don’t be like that. She’s family, for Christ’s sake. I’m not choosing between family.”

“She’s fucked you over more times than I ever would.”

“She was also there for me more times. Before the drugs.”

“You’re a goddamn saint.” Tromping back through the living room, I find my mother sitting on the edge of the couch, rubbing her hands together.

“Hey, baby. How you been?”

Ignoring her question, I swipe up my duffle bag and grimace, disgusted by the raspy tone of her voice and the spacy look in her eyes. “I’m staying at Kel’s tonight!” I call out to Aunt Midge as I head toward the door.

“Isa, wait!” Aunt Midge calls after me, throwing her hands up in the air. “I had tacos pla

“I’m sure they’ll get eaten.” Ire coursing through my blood, I push through the door.

The moment fresh air hits my face, tears well in my eyes, and the sidewalk blurs behind the watery shield. It isn’t the first time my mother has come looking for a handout. A few months back, she managed to scam fifty bucks from Aunt Midge, leaving us short for the electricity bill, and the time before that, it was the wedding ring Uncle Hal gave her. Granted, it didn’t mean much to my aunt, but we certainly could’ve used the cash my mother undoubtedly hocked for it. Maybe it’s because I’ve never had a sibling that I can’t seem to understand my aunt’s sympathy toward her. I can’t imagine loving something so much after being fucked over that many times. Just seems like, at some point, it’s not worth the trouble.

The walk to Kelsey’s is about fifteen minutes, and I can already feel the calm returning. In high school, I didn’t have many friends, except Kelsey Donovan. Like me, she always had a sincere love for music, which is how we first met. I had earbuds in, with Arctic Monkeys blasting at full volume, when she first strolled up to ask what I was listening to. From then on, a friendship blossomed. Only, unlike me, she was a hell of a lot more popular with the other kids at school. Even after the whole incident with Aeden and Brady. In fact, as odd as it was, when the rest of the school shu

Which probably saved me in the end.

It’s something I hate thinking about, but sometimes, when I look in the mirror, it sneaks up on me. Especially when I see the cuts, the evidence of how much that night messed with my head.

Always reminding me that I will never be like them. I’ll never belong.

Which is exactly why I took the job at the Blackthornes. The minute I have enough to ditch this island, I’m out of here.

The obnoxious blare of a horn interrupts my thoughts, and I jump back as a car speeds past. I recognize the Jeep as belonging to some of Brady’s old football buddies. Likely home on summer break from college.

It’s been months since I’ve had to deal with their torment, and I dreaded the thought of ru

“Fucking psycho!” one of the boys shouts, and something knocks me in the head, spilling liquid down onto my new shirt.

Exhaling a gasp, I stare down at myself, where dark splashes of Coke dot my white shirt, the red can lying on the ground in a dark pool of bubbly soda.

“Touchdown!” they shout over the squeal of tires as they take off down the road.

A sob tugs at my chest, but I swallow it back. I prod the throbbing ache at my temple where the can hit, and more tears sting the rims of my eyes. “Fuck you,” I whisper, and keep on to Kelsey’s.

“That’s not coming out.”

Mrs. Donovan holds up my stained shirt, as I sit on Kelsey’s bed in one of her T-shirts. My best friend lies cuddled up to me, her arm stretched across my stomach. For the last hour, she’s tried to comfort me, after I showed up to her house distraught and teary-eyed.

“Such a shame, too,” she continues. “This is an Ulla Johnson.”

“I don’t know what that means.” I slide my gaze to Kelsey, who shakes her head, rolling her eyes.

“My mom’s pla

“One doesn’t venture to the fashion capital of the country looking like she came from a fishing town.”

Shaking her head, Kelsey sighs. “But you did mom.”

“Anyway, how the hell did you afford this, Isa? This shirt probably cost about three-hundred. Easy.”

Nausea twists in my stomach, and I cup my face in my palms. “Three hundred? Are you serious?” Bending forward, I clutch my gut, while the threat of puke tickles the back of my throat. “Shit.”

“Izzy is working for the Blackthornes.” Kelsey strokes my back, while I sit with my head between my knees, trying to calm my breathing. “They bought her an entire wardrobe.”

“You’re kidding me.” Wearing a frown, her mother sets the shirt down on the bed. “Aunt Midge let you do this?”