SORROW WOODS (29 page)

“That’s irrelevant,” she snaps. “You know what I mean. You never take me anywhere like

that.”

“That’s because you’re only interested in your nails,” I tell her, “or how your hair would look

after doing something.”

“That’s not true,” she shrieks, appearing shocked.

“It is, Anastasia,” adds Zak, “even I know what you’re like, and I’ve only met you three

times.”

Her nostrils flare before she pushes back her chair. “I’m not having sex with you today, by

the way.”

I didn’t want to have sex with her anyway.

Zak laughs. “Using sex as a weapon? Classy.”

“Shut it,” she spits at him. “What would you know?”

“I know everything,” he says, “and I know that you’re a complete bitch. Now get out of our

house.”

She blinks. “You can’t speak to me like that.”

“Oh I can,” he says, “and I have, so tell me why you and your fake hair are still here?”

She hesitates and looks over at me to defend her, but I’m too busy looking at Zak with my

mouth wide open to even think about her and whatever it is she might be thinking.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday then?” she sighs, sounding defeated.

I nod but don’t look at her. I hear her heels click down the tiled hallway and then the front

door slams shut.

“Finally,” he says.

I shake my head. “What was all that about?”

He shrugs. “She’s a bitch. You think she is. I think she is. Mom and Dad think she is too.”

“Yeah, but I don’t get why you’ve acted as if you’re personally offended by her.”

He leans forward and rubs his temples. He used to do that all the time when he was younger

and worried about something. “She came on to me.”

“What?” I ask, shocked. “When?”

He sighs. “The last time she stopped over. She accidentally stumbled into the bathroom

when I was in the shower and then asked me if I’d like for her to join me.”

I get up and put my empty plate into the dishwasher. I don’t doubt that he’s telling the

truth, but why would Anastasia do that with my own brother?

“What did you say to her?” I ask.

“I told her she was a little tramp and even if she didn’t repulse me, I would still say no

because she’s my brother’s girlfriend.”

I think about the last girlfriend Zak had. She was this dainty little English girl, who constantly walked around in high heels and a pair of knickers. If she had asked me if she could join me in the shower, I wouldn’t have thought twice about saying yes. Maybe that’s why Zak has always been the

nicer guy out of the two of us.

“You should have told me,” I say.

“Perhaps, but I’m telling you now.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Seriously though, Kai, get rid of her. I know you’re the ‘bad boy’ of the family. I know you

like a challenge and you like them a bit rough and naughty in the bedroom, but you don’t need

someone like her and I don’t think you
want
someone like that anymore. Not when you’ve let Serena and her innocence get under your skin.”

“She’s not under my skin,” I say defensively.

He laughs. “Alright then, you’ve let her get into your heart.”

I shake my head. “I haven’t got a heart.”

“Really? Because what would you have said if I had just told you that I’d gone over to

Serena’s house, caught her in the shower and invited myself to join her?”

The image of smacking him in the face swarms to the forefront of my vision.

“Exactly,” he says, smirking. “You would have killed me, but you didn’t so much as bat an

eyelid about Anastasia saying it to me.”

I shrug. “It’s different.”

“It shouldn’t be. It should be the other way around.”

Serena

On Monday night, Bethany rang me to tell me that Kaiden had asked her if she would bring me with

her to the party at his house. As annoyed as I was with him, and even though I’d already told him that I didn’t want to go, I’ve still found myself traipsing around the mall behind Bethany today. It’s Wednesday, so I have no idea why she isn’t at school. Kaiden spends a lot of time not at school and I wonder if Bethany does the same.

I stare at her red hair as she darts into another shop. We must have been in about ten shops

by now, and she still hasn’t found a dress that she likes. I found my light-purple wrap dress in the first shop we went into, and then a pair of silver stilettos, that made me feel like I would topple over, in the second shop. I was pretty much done as far as I was concerned, but Bethany just continued to moan that it was impossible to find dresses in the right colour for red-heads. I think that the colour of her hair and the freckles splattered across her nose and face are nice, but she seems to hate

them.

When I finally find her in the shop, she’s holding a tiny black dress up against herself.

“It’s going to have to be black,” she sighs. “I always wear black.”

“It’s nice,” I say. “And besides, isn’t a little black dress considered a classic?”

She nods. “Yeah, I guess. But everyone will know that I wore a little black dress to the last

party.”

I look up at her bright blue eyes and smile. I’ve never had to worry about any of that before

and a part of me is glad. Just the thought of being teased because of the way I dressed or looked seemed unreal before I came here.

“What about gold?” I ask her.

She blinks at me. “For the jewellery?”

I shake my head and glance at a gold dress that looks sort of puffy around the hips.

“I mean a gold dress.” I point to it. “That looks like it would go with the colour of your hair

perfectly.”

She blinks. “You really think so?”

I nod. “Hold it up against yourself and let me see.”

She puts the black dress back onto the hanger and picks up the gold one. She shuffles closer

to the mirror and holds it against her. It instantly deepens the colour of her skin and brightens her eyes.

“It’s perfect,” I say, smiling at her.

Her eyes are still wide as she looks at herself. “I like it.”

“Good,” I say, “shall we go and pay for it then?”

“I need to try it on first.”

“Why?” I ask. She’s been trying on dresses in all of the shops we’ve been in. Surely she must

know what size she is.

“To make sure it fits,” she says simply.

“But I thought you knew what size you were?” I ask, confused.

“I do,” she laughs, “but sometimes it depends on what shop you’re in. Some have bigger

sizes than others.”

“Oh.”

I take her bag from her and hover around by the changing rooms whilst she tries it on. I

watch the other girls that walk around the shop. They pick up dress after dress and hold it up against themselves before shaking their heads and putting them back down. I wonder why they all seem to

be so fussy. Even Bethany is fussy.

Is it because they want to make sure they look good for boys? Is it because they think they

won’t look right in a certain style? I have no idea. I just know that I saw my dress and liked the colour, and when I tried it on it fit correctly, so there was no reason for me to not buy it.

“Serena?” she calls and I hear her clothes rustling on the floor.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Are you still there?”

I roll my eyes. She keeps doing this. I know Angela and my Aunty have told her that she

needs to keep an eye on me and to not let me out of her sight, but this is silly. I feel like a baby.

“Yeah,” I sigh, “I’m still here.”

“Okay,” she says.

I hear the clanging of hangers and more rustling. “I’m going to get it,” she says, as she

snatches back the blue curtain. “It’s a little snug, but I’ll just have to make sure I don’t eat bread between now and the party.”

“What does bread have to do with your dress?” I ask.

She leads me towards the cash register and pulls out her credit card.

“Bread is full of wasteful calories and it bloats you,” she explains. “If you stay off the bread, then you are more likely to lose a few pounds and have a flat stomach.”

I think about the times that I’ve eaten bread and don’t remember it affecting my stomach at

all. I don’t say anything to her though; I just watch her pay for her dress and then follow her back out to the main shopping area.

“Let’s go and get you some make-up and stuff for your hair and then we’ll grab a coffee.

How does that sound?” she asks.

I shrug. “I guess that sounds alright, but I have no idea what to do with make-up other than

apply a bit of mascara.”

She grins at me. “That’s okay. I’ll come over to your place on Friday and help you.”

We go into a large department store where there are several beauty counters selling

thousands of different types of make-up in hundreds of different colours. I have no idea what I’m looking for, so I just follow Bethany around and hold the steadily filling basket. I don’t even bother to look at what she puts in, mainly because I’m too busy staring at the girls that work in this area of the store.

They all have their hair scraped back tightly on their heads and the biggest eyelashes I have

ever seen on a person. Their lips are blood red and remind me of Hannah’s lips when I went to the salon. Their skin looks orange, but I don’t think they’re tanned. I can’t figure out what it is that they’ve done to their faces to make them shine like that.

“Let’s go and pay,” Bethany says to me.

I nod and follow her towards a cash register that is manned by a man. He laughs and giggles

and talks in a high-pitched voice. He looks and sounds like a girl in a boy’s body. I wonder if that’s possible and find myself trying to think back to all the books that I’ve read, but before I’ve come up with an answer or an appropriate explanation, Bethany is holding her hand out for my credit card

that Auden gave me. I hand it over without a word.

When she turns back around, she passes me two large bags that crinkle as if they’re made of

something more expensive than the bags that my dress and shoes are in. I take my credit card back from her and watch as the guy at the cash register scans her things through. Bethany only seems to have five things, whereas I have about forty. Oh well, I guess I need it. The make-up I’ve been using at home is Angela’s and I’m sure she needs it back.

Bethany takes her bag from the man and spins on her heels. “I’m done,” she huffs, “should

we go and get coffee?”

I nod. “That would be great. Shopping is exhausting.”

She laughs and gently nudges me with her shoulder. “You’re funny.”

I’m not sure what’s funny about what I just said, but I follow her out of the shop towards the

food court area with a grin on my face. I’ve enjoyed spending time with Bethany. Even though I

know she’s my cousin, she feels like what I imagine a friend would feel like. We’ve chatted, laughed, and shopped, which is what I think friends usually do when they go to the mall. And she hasn’t used her phone once.

She strides towards a chrome table and dumps her bags on one of the seats.

“I’ll go and grab us some drinks. What do you want?” she asks.

I sit down next to her chair filled with bags and think about trying a coffee. Then I think

about how I’ll feel bad if I don’t like it, so I just end up ordering a tea instead.

She starts to walk away and then stops and turns back to me. She nods to the table. “Don’t

move from that seat.”

She turns her head and looks towards where the coffee machine and cash register area is in

the middle. “If you stay there, then I can see you.”

I sigh. “Okay.”

I watch her weave through the round tables and chairs amidst a buzz of movement and noise.

I glance at my bags on the floor next to me and try to remember how much money I’ve spent. I don’t want Angela and Auden thinking I’m taking advantage of their money. I hope they won’t be mad at

me when I get home and they see what I’ve been buying.

My mind is miles away, thinking about how I’m going to walk in the heels I’ve bought when a

shadow passes over me. Before I look up, I hear a chair moving and then I’m aware of someone

sitting next to me. When I see the face of who sat down, I gasp.

“Mamma!”

She eyes me carefully and shakes her head. “What have they done to my little girl?”

My heart starts hammering in my chest, making me feel slightly sick. What is she doing

here? I knew when they showed me the picture of the woman they thought had taken me that it

wasn’t my Mother, but I didn’t expect her to just show up here. I quickly glance to where Bethany has just walked to and find her narrowing her eyes at us. I smile at her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, turning back around to face my Mother.

She drags her blue eyes back up to my face and shakes her head. “I’ve come to get you. I

needed to lie low for a while and find somewhere else to live first.”

I shake my head. “I can’t go with you.”

“Have they changed your brain as well as your clothes and face?” she asks unkindly.

I look down at myself and frown. There’s nothing different about my face except the shape

of my eyebrows, and the clothes I’m wearing are what every other girl wears. I brush the skirt of my spotted dress over my knees and swallow.

“They haven’t done anything to me,” I say defensively. “I picked these clothes myself. I like

them.”

“You look awful. You look like all those other stupid girls that walk around the mall thinking

that they’re God’s gift to men.”

I glance at Bethany and notice her looking this way at the same time that she hands her

money to the cashier. I see her take in my Mother’s blood-stained face and yellow teeth, while I

struggle to put all of the thoughts that are whirling around in my head together so I can form a

sentence.

“Who was that woman in the picture?” I ask. “The one that the police said was you?”