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“PENELOPE, HURRY UP! Our appointment starts in half an hour.”
Wrangling her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, Penny wrinkles her nose as her mother uses her full name. Her father’s only sister died of leukemia at the age of twelve, and Penny is her namesake.
It couldn’t have been Kayley or something cooler.
She pulls a clean pair of jeans from the bottom of her laundry basket with a grumble. She doesn’t have the energy for therapy today. She got home late last night after babysitting for the Landry kids, and the last thing she wants to do on a Saturday morning is have her mother and her counselor gang up on her again.
She stuffs the twenty-dollar bill from last night’s job in her pocket. Unfortunately, babysitting doesn’t pay much. She can’t wait until April when she turns fourteen. This summer, she’ll be able to get a worker’s permit and a real job.
At least her mother isn’t around as much. It’s taken a year, but Miranda is finally sober and working as a receptionist at one of the lawyer’s offices in town. Not that she had a choice. She’s being watched by all.
The science-fair incident that Hannah Sparks instigated last year had set their family on a new path. Since their mother hadn’t been sober enough to deal with the issue at the time, and Colt had been a minor, Principal Donovan had called CPS, fueling the Donovan/Ramsay feud from a mere ember to a city-wide bonfire. Penny and Colt had spent a month with the Donovans while CPS investigated.
They’d asked Penny all sorts of questions. Did she feel safe at home? Never. Had her mother ever hit her? More times than I can count. But their findings for any kind of neglect had been inconclusive.
There was no way she’d tell anyone about her mother’s abuse. At the time, Colt hadn’t been old enough to take care of her. If she’d ratted Miranda out, she would have ended up in the foster care system, separated from the only person who cares about her.
As long as she puts up with Miranda’s physical and mental cruelty, their family will stay together.
“Penelope Elaine Ramsay! Now!”
Penny rolls her eyes and sighs. Despite her mother’s return to sobriety, things haven’t changed. Miranda Ramsay is a bitter person. If anything, the woman has become meaner than a bobcat that’s waiting to strike. And Penny is her favorite prey. Fortunately, Penny babysits at least three days a week, thankful to be anywhere but home.
School isn’t any better. She still can’t get the mean girls off her back. Despite Mrs. Donovan’s attempts at cracking down on bullying, it’s still a daily occurrence. Her classmates simply mask their antics with more stealth. Dotty the whale. Uber Cow. Heifer. Alkie’s Daughter. She easily ignores the name-calling that’s been going on for years.
But she’ll never forgive Hannah Sparks for hamstercide.
As Colt had predicted, nothing had come of that incident. Hannah had denied having anything to do with the vicious killing. Her guilt had been obvious since her fingerprints were all over Alton Pilar’s model guillotine. Using his forensics science fair kit, Thomas Topher had taken it upon himself to investigate the alleged crime.
“I can’t believe those idiots won the science fair,” Penny mutters. She’d received the first B she’d ever gotten in her life because Mrs. Crockett said her full project hadn’t been displayed. Worse, Hannah’s father, some big-wig CEO at one of the Detroit auto companies, had gotten his daughter off with only a week’s worth of detentions.
“Jesus, Penelope, I won’t tell you again. Get your fat ass down here!”
Pulling her brother’s sweatshirt over her t-shirt, Penny snuggles against the soft fabric. As the familiar smell of his cologne provides a protective barrier against her fears, she sighs. These counseling sessions are the worst form of torture imaginable. Does the state really think this is beneficial? It hasn’t accomplished anything for her to sit in the same room with the one person that crucifies her daily.
And adults wonder why I’m so sullen.
If Colt knew how their mother treated her, he would be upset. He’s the only one who seems to care about her. But he works two jobs and isn’t home much.
And she won’t tell him about any of it. She can’t keep looking to him as her savior. He’ll be graduating soon and moving to Ann Arbor. She needs to deal with this stuff on her own.
What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?
Lacing up her tennis shoes, Penny throws on her jacket and grabs her bag before switching off her bedroom lights. As she plods down the stairs, her mother, standing upon the landing, arches one of her thin eyebrows.
“What the hell is wrong with you? We’re going to be late! You are the most disrespectful child.”
Clenching her jaw, Penny grips the strap of her backpack and huffs a sigh. It won’t do any good to argue. She can do no right in her mother’s eyes.
Miranda folds her arms across her chest with a disdainful look. “Dear Lord, don’t tell me you’re wearing that to our appointment.”
Penny glances down and frowns. “Why not? It’s clean.” Ish.
With a loud huff, Miranda seizes Penny’s ponytail and yanks. Hard. “And this?” Wincing, Penny ducks out of her mother’s hold. A growl leaves Miranda’s throat. “Jesus, you’re an absolute mess. No wonder the kids at school bully you. Do something with that damn mop.”
Stepping into the bathroom, Penny brushes out her ringlet curls, trying to tame them into something that doesn’t resemble a rat’s nest. The sooner she complies, the faster they can get this over with.
Miranda’s shadow looms in the doorway. She glares at Penny in the mirror. “Use the styling mousse, for God’s sake. That’s why I bought it.”
Crap, she’s about to go unhinged.
Trembling, Penny squeezes a bit of her mother’s styling product in her hand. Dabbing the foam onto her hair, she rakes it through the long strands. Her ringlets clump together like wet noodles.
Miranda’s lip curls up. “What in the hell are you doing?”
Dampness coats Penny’s eyelashes. “I can’t help it. My hair has a mind of its own.”
Snarling, Miranda snatches the brush from the sink. “We’ll see about that.” Before Penny can react, Miranda wrangles the unruly curls in a vice grip. Digging her fingernails into Penny’s neck, she forces her to the toilet seat. Fury settles at the woman’s lips as she scrapes through Penny’s hair like a lunatic on steroids.
Penny winces, her scalp burning with every stroke. Struggling against the pain, she tries to free herself from her mother’s hold. “You’re hurting me!”
Whiplash jolts through her neck as a sharp sting prickles the side of her cheek. Miranda fists Penny’s hair tighter. “Hold still! Why do you have to be such a brat? Your brother was never half the trouble you are.”
Penny’s heart shrivels in her chest as the rant wears on. Her forehead and cheek burn with the evidence of her mother’s hatred. She closes her eyes and gives in to her whims. The woman isn’t in her right mind, and she won’t relent until Penny backs down.
Tears trickle down her cheeks. She’d rather her mother be drunk. At least alcohol slowed Miranda’s reaction time. Sobriety has only worsened matters. She’s morphed into a madwoman more than once, her highs and lows worse than the drunken stupor.
The grip on Penny’s hair tightens, and Miranda curses. As the medicine cabinet door squeaks on its hinges, Penny’s eyes shoot open. “W-what are you doing?”
“We’re going to fix this right now.” Her mother’s determined glower reflects back as she stares into the mirror and holds up a pair of scissors. Fear blasts through Penny’s heart.
She thrashes against Miranda’s hold. “Please, no!”
Still clutching Penny’s hair in one hand like the reins of a wild mustang, Miranda purses her lips. “You won’t take care of it. This is the only way.” Penny screams as the first golden strand falls. Her mother yanks harder. “Do you want it cropped to your damn head? Sit still!”
Ten minutes later, Penny stares into the mirror. Tingles fly to her extremities as she fingers the lifeless curls now coiled at odd lengths at her chin. Tears stream down her face. “I-I can’t believe you did this.”
Her mother’s smug smile broadens as she places the scissors on the sink. “Much better. Let’s go.”
Penny can’t move. She gazes at her reflection, unable to recognize the beaten-down girl staring back at her. Sweeping her hand across her nose, she sniffles. “I’m not going.”
Miranda’s nostrils flare as she pinches the back of Penny’s arm. “Oh yes, you are, young lady. You have no choice. Unless you want them to cart you off to foster care. Then you’ll never see your brother again.” Miranda leans closer, her grip tightening. “You think he’ll choose a defiant little brat like you over me?”
Panic settles in Penny’s heart. Colt has always been there for her, but he loves their mother, too. How many times has he tried to talk to Penny about keeping the peace with Miranda because all they have left is each other?
Swallowing her pride, Penny removes her journal from her backpack. Pulling a stray baseball cap from the coat hook, she follows her mother to the car. She slips into the back seat, straightens her spine, and wipes the tears away.
Colt has no idea how much she’s sacrificed just to keep the peace. One look at her smug and self-righteous tormentor glaring at her in the rear-view mirror only proves it.