The Secret Sister by M. DeLuca (leveled readers txt) 📗

sticking out in clumps from her scalp as if someone had shaved bits of it off. I was watching her, my left eye throbbing with pain. Who would shave her head? Her lovely wavy hair? I fumbled with the ignition, my hands trembling and sweaty. I needed to go to the mall. Needed the bright lights and fake air. Needed to buy something.

The engine pulsed into life and I pulled out of the parking lot. No matter how hard I blinked my eyes, I could still see Birdie. Thin and bony, like an insect, her arms and legs splayed like a daddy longlegs as she tried to clamber upwards. Pulled herself up onto a crocheted wall hanging – a black silhouette against the throbbing mess of flowered wallpaper. And someone nearby was laughing. Gut-wrenching laughter. More than one person giggling and snorting. Then she slid downwards, fell and cracked her head. Her skin split like a melon, spilling red juice onto the floor. My throat was paralyzed. No voice.

A screech of brakes and a screaming horn told me I’d strayed into the next lane. I snapped to attention and swerved back. Pull yourself together. Gripping the wheel, I took a deep breath to steady my jangling nerves. Maybe it was time to talk to Linda Martin, my ex-social worker, before the visions consumed my newly discovered happiness.

My phone rang and Guy’s voice flooded the car. I let out a deep sigh of relief.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

“Of course. Just happy to hear your voice.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Tell me, tell me,” I begged like a child.

“You have a decent bikini?”

I had to think hard. I hadn’t been swimming in eons. “I used to have a one-piece. Think I left it in the change room last spring when we took the kids swimming.”

“Then go buy yourself something brief and sexy. Get two or three. You’ll need them.”

“For what?” I’d never needed swimwear since I’d never been anywhere on holiday except the lake. Nowhere hot or exotic. No all-inclusives to Mexico or the Caribbean.

“We’re going to Vegas next week. Dad’s treat. A suite at the Bellagio. Five days of sin under a sweltering sun. It is your spring break isn’t it?”

I couldn’t restrain a squeal of excitement. “You mean five days together. No work. No phones. No worries.”

“That’s what I love about you, Anna. You’re so enthusiastic. So easy to please.”

If only he knew how easy. My blood was already racing at the thought of scouring the mall for swimwear. I couldn’t wait to get going, but had to stop off at the condo where Guy said he’d left another gift for me. It turned out to be a credit card in my name with a staggering limit of twenty thousand dollars. A handwritten note propped beside it on the table said:

All yours, I’ll take care of the monthly balance. Shop your heart out.

In the past I’d had to beg for a two-grand limit, which I’d somehow wheedled up to four. Now this card burned like fire in my hand. I raced down to the car, buzzing with apprehension, and I barely noticed the rain slashing across the windshield when I pulled out of the underground garage.

I chose three bikinis in the end. Pale pink edged with black, a strapless gold confection with tiny triangular bottoms and a stark white two-piece with halter neck and scalloped edges. I was on an all-time high when I found the last one and just had to buy the sheer white cover-up with its turquoise beaded trim, and the black fringed wrap as well as the tiny pink robe with the flounces. Five days in Vegas also meant I’d need some suitable hot weather clothes, so by the time I was done scouring the stores, I’d bought cut-offs, strappy tops, and a different dress for each night out. My favorite, a cream, silk sheath, just had to have a chunky, gold necklace to match.

When I added up the cost, I realized I’d dropped close to seven grand. My heart thudded at the enormity of the amount until I convinced myself that Guy had given this gladly and I had to learn to accept his generosity instead of acting like a guilty kid. All those years of deprivation had convinced me I didn’t deserve to enjoy luxury. That somehow, I always had to fight, cheat, lie or sleep my way into enjoying the good life. But now I was determined to give it a damned good try. I clutched the Visa in my palm like a lucky rabbit’s paw and made a beeline for the exit. Whatever Vegas had in store, I was ready for it.

Or thought I was, considering what actually unfolded there.

11

By the time I got to school the next day, I’d forgotten all my worries. Guy had ordered in sushi then made me model all my swimwear purchases, making sure to peel each one off with intense attention to detail. Then we’d eaten supper washed down with a bottle of champagne and staggered into the bedroom to make wild, tipsy love. I’d woken with a slight headache but a warm glow from the amazing sex and the dizzying list of shows Guy had booked for our trip.

My mind was so occupied I barely registered the empty corridors. Floating into the staffroom I stopped dead at the sight of everyone gathered there, grim-faced like guests at a wake.

“What’s wrong?”

Robin stood up, his face leached of color. “I guess you didn’t get the message,” he said.

“What message?” I realized I still hadn’t told them about my move.

Daphne shuffled the folders in front of her. “I tried her number, Robin. It wasn’t in service.”

“Sorry. I changed it.” The color rushed to my face. “What’s happened?”

Sabrina’s eyebrows almost hit her hairline, but I glanced away. Robin cleared his throat. His foot tapped a frantic tattoo under the table.

“Carla’s gone missing. Her mom called last night. Said they haven’t seen her for the last ten days.”

I