“You did this! I know you did!” She pointed at the other body on the floor, her accusatory eyes burning holes in mine.
She’s not the same girl she used to be, I realized.
Truth is, neither am I.
Chapter 28
BEFORE
I arrived at work, still groggy from my stakeout the night before, and took the lift to the fourth floor. No mysterious black trucks had been hanging around outside our house last night …
I was a few minutes early, and I was relieved to find only Pam in the dimly lit office.
“You’re early for once.” She was standing near our little break-room counter, watching the coffee trickle slowly down into the pot.
“Yeah.”
“What’s the matter with you?” Pam clicked her bright red fingernails on the counter, a nervous habit that had driven me crazy for years.
Before I could answer, she added, “I keep waiting for you to tell me more about your dates. I’m assuming you didn’t see anyone last night since you’re in here so early. You do look tired though.” She pointed a finger at what I could only imagine were deep, dark bags under my eyes.
“Forget the dating site. It’s Laney. I’m hoping you can help me somehow.”
The coffee wasn’t done, but Pam moved the pot aside and let the stream fill up a Styrofoam cup instead. “Here.” She handed it to me. “Now, tell me what’s wrong with our baby girl.”
Thankful no one else was in yet, I took a seat in Jerry’s leather desk chair and blew steam off the top of my coffee.
It wasn’t my place to share Delaney’s personal business with anyone, especially about her sexual preferences, but I had to tell Pam something – she was the only one I knew who could help.
“Delaney’s getting bullied at school.”
Pam shook her packet of sugar so wildly that tiny crystal flakes blew through the air. “What? Who? I’ll fucking kill them.”
I gave her a knowing look – words like that were nothing to joke about considering our past – but she acted like she didn’t even realize she’d said it.
“Who is it? A boy, a girl?”
“Calm down, Auntie Pam. I don’t even know who it is yet. It’s definitely a boy though, according to Delaney.”
“You need to go down there and raise hell.”
I shook my head, wincing as I took a sip of the coffee and the steaming liquid burned dozens of taste buds off my tongue. “She doesn’t want me to do that. And she won’t give me his name. I’ve got to respect her wishes, but at the same time, I have to do something. I’m her mother. It’s my job to fix this shit. Right?”
“Right,” Pam nodded, dutifully.
“Does JoAnn in the office still live in your building?”
Although Pam had no children of her own, she was chummy with several of the single teachers and administrators who lived in the same affordable apartment complex near school that she did. I only knew JoAnn Feeler from a few chance encounters, dropping off money for schoolbooks, or picking up Delaney’s homework when she was sick. But from what I could gather, JoAnn was the go-to person in the office and she was rather chatty, which meant that if Pam told her what was going on with Delaney, then JoAnn would surely discuss it with the principal and on-staff security personnel.
This would still alert them, without making it look like I was the one who told. But, speaking of their involvement, why hadn’t they noticed all this going on?
Perhaps I should pull Delaney out of school and send her somewhere else. Or, what about home school?
It wasn’t a terrible option, but … isn’t school just a microcosm for the workplace? Even if I shield her from the awfulness now, she’ll still find it later in life, in social circles and her workplace environment …
“Earth to Ivy …” Pam snapped her fingers in front of my face.
I took a sip of coffee. “What did you say? Sorry. I’m just worried about Delaney.”
“I said I’ll go talk to JoAnn right after school. Don’t worry. We’ll deal with this together. Nobody messes with our girl.”
But Pam and I had a shitty way of handling school-age conflict, that was for sure.
Chapter 29
1994 - Andrea
“They’re still out there. Those darned vultures,” Thomas Nordstrom complained to his wife, Melissa.
Melissa stepped around him, head high and surefooted, and jerked the curtains tightly together in one steady thrust. She turned around and looked to where Philomena and I were sitting, huddled together on a cushy lounge chair in the living room.
“I know it’s hard, girls. But now that”—she sniffed and looked away from us—“Andrea’s uncle has been charged, it’s only a matter of time before he gets sentenced.”
“Hopefully to life in prison,” Thomas huffed. He was still standing by the window, peeking through the side of the curtains at the dozens of news vans outside.
It was a circus – literally – and we were their favorite clowns. Even the kids at school acted differently around us. There were two types of people at school, no in-betweens: those who treated us like royalty and those who avoided us like the plague.
After what we did – what we really did – I empathized more with those who stayed away.
I would stay from me too, if I knew the truth.
The only good thing that had come out of all of this was Philomena. We had gone through something that no one else could, or ever would, understand. And together, we held the secret that could make or break our futures …
Thomas and Melissa Nordstrom had shocked everyone, but me the most, when they announced publicly to a local anchor that they would be more than happy to take me in. The media was obsessed with Philomena because of her beauty and charm, and her rich, new family in town to boot, but my story was the one that tugged at all their heartstrings. I’d lost my parents, been abused by my uncle, then lost two of my ‘friends’ in a horrific double-murder … and to top it all off, I was now an orphan.
But not according to the Nordstroms.
After that night, when the cops showed up and discovered my raging uncle in the bathroom and the two murdered girls inside, that was the last time I ever stepped foot in that trailer. The Nordstroms handled everything – taking my few meager belongings out after the crime scene had been cleared and bringing them to their house.
My ratty clothes, old books, and worthless knick-knacks didn’t quite fit in with the Nordstroms’ mansion. There were eight bedrooms in all and half as many bathrooms, and there was a pool and a hot tub … like something out of a fairy tale.
As much as I enjoyed being there, especially with Philomena, it wasn’t as good as I had expected. I still woke up nearly every night, panting and screaming, Mandy’s smushed faced beneath that shower curtain and the feel of her body limp in my arms. Those images held me hostage.
Philomena wasn’t much better, to be honest. And the taunting at school by our classmates and the harassment by reporters … it seemed to be getting worse, not better.
I was jumpy, afraid to go outside, afraid that everyone could see through the heart of me, see what I’d done, really done.