October 20
Twenty-Four Years Ago
12:00 A.M.
There was no one home when Mish arrived, but that wasn’t surprising. Mom was probably out with her sister; the two of them often found their way to the nearby tavern after their shifts at the factory, and her father was probably still at Starry Night.
She didn’t even think of him as “Dad.” Mostly, she called him nothing. He’d been gone her entire childhood; he was a stranger who was hardly ever around. And when he was around, he was surly, and drunk, or angry and drunk, or quiet and drunk.
Everyone said she looked like him, which she hated. She wished she looked more like her mom, who’d been a total knockout until the world wore her down. Mom had even won one of those beauty contests back in the day, and there were rumors that she had once dated Donald Overton; wasn’t that ironic? If they had gotten together, she and Brooks would be brother and sister.
Mish was annoyed, and so drunk she couldn’t walk straight. The whole day had started out so promising, but had ended in a fight. Her head hurt and she was dizzy. The minute she got to her room, she fell on her bed and passed out cold.
The sound of a car engine roaring up and shutting off woke her. Mish sat up and pulled aside the curtains to look out the window. There was someone going into Leo’s house. A guy. It was dark, and she couldn’t see who it was, or what car he was driving, but she knew, deep down in her gut, who it was.
THAT FUCKER, thought Mish. HE CAME BACK TO FINISH.
He’d gotten a little taste, and now he wanted the whole enchilada. The two of them had been making eyes at each other all night. Mish couldn’t get the sight of them kissing out of her head. Brooks had placed his hand on Leo’s cheek, the way he always did on hers. It was like he’d traded her for her best friend, like she was replaceable, as if the two of them were interchangeable with each other.
She quickly put on her jeans and sneakers and ran out the door, her heart pounding. She couldn’t quite believe he had the audacity to do this; in a way, she’d believed him when he said he loved her. She thought she was special. He was the only one who made her feel that way, other than Leo of course.
Her best friend with her boyfriend. It was unforgivable. She would shame them, she would scream, she would cry and she would hit, punch, claw—she pictured nails drawing blood—she would hurt them. She would. She would make them hurt as much as she hurt right now, all twisted and sad and angry and shaking from betrayal.
The door was unlocked, and she let herself in.
She heard the bed creak, muffled sounds, like kissing. Her blood began to boil. She had caught them in the act! She could picture it all too clearly, Leo underneath, Brooks heaving. His lips on hers, his body on hers, and he was hers, not Leo’s.
FUCKING SLUT!
She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and threw open the door.