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

puppy as Jimmy punched him deep in the gut. Earl followed up with a thudding kick to his side. Jimmy let go of Lester’s shirt and let him double over into a heap on the floor, sobbing like a baby, his nose streaming with blood.

Loni guided Birdie towards the door. My legs were frozen. I could barely move. “I’m coming. Take me too,” I called above Patti’s whining.

“What did you ever do for her?” said Loni, hand on her hip. “You let them dope her up till she was a freakin’ zombie.”

My legs loosened up and I ran to the door past Earl and Jimmy who were at the sink washing the blood off their hands. “Birdie, tell them I fed you. I looked out for you. Always.”

“Seems like I’m always telling you to get lost,” said Loni. “So do it.”

Tears streamed down my face. “Birdie, don’t leave me. I can’t stay here.”

She stared at me from the shelter of Loni’s arms, her eyes swollen and red. “You left me here alone while you went to school. And what do you think Lester was doing while you were out? Made me jack him off or give him blow jobs every other day while Patti was sleeping on the couch.”

I ran to her, grabbing at her T-shirt. “I didn’t know, Birdie. You never told me. Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Her cheeks were wet from sobbing and her eyes so weary I wanted to crush her in my arms and comfort her. I’d always promised to protect her but I’d been so busy with Colby and school and my own miserable life, I’d forgotten about her pain and left her alone to fend for herself.

“I’m so, so sorry, Birdie. I’ll never do that again. I’ll stay right beside you like always. Like it used to be. Say you’ll forgive me. Please.”

I waited for the magic words but she just nuzzled her face against Loni’s chest.

“Guess you got your answer, bitch. Let’s go, Birdie.” When they vanished through the doorway I wanted to throw up. Lester lay on the floor moaning so Earl and Jimmy delivered a couple more kicks before leaving just to shut him up.

I scanned the chaos. Smashed coffee table, scattered cigarette butts. Patti crouched over Lester, bawling her eyes out.

I knew Birdie wouldn’t be back this time. I had nothing. Nobody in the world.

“Call the cops,” whined Patti. “I think he’s dead.”

I couldn’t hear anything but a weird gurgling sound coming from Lester’s nose as I handed Patti a Kleenex, picked up my coat and walked out the door.

28

Grief is like anesthesia.

You become numb and disembodied. A random mass of cells suspended in the ether. Your senses shut off from the to and fro of everyday life.

When Birdie left for good, I had no purpose left.

Protecting her had been my driving force – my reason to survive one nightmare home after another. Without her I was a non-person with no direction, no family, no identity. And with such a weight of sorrow on my shoulders it would crush me like an insect.

When I left the Flatts’ apartment and slammed their battered front door, I half-slid, half-ran downstairs to the street only stopping to flex my fingers and touch my face and body to reassure myself I still existed. I tried to settle my breathing – tried to erase the image of Lester’s bloodied face, and Birdie’s head nestled against Loni’s shoulder like a child reunited with her mother.

The street was deserted, Birdie, Loni and friends long gone. A bright moon shone behind ragged clouds, and I stood still for a moment to let the night sounds engulf me. A dog howled in a back yard, traffic hummed on a freeway bridge, then a siren sounded, its high-pitched whine edging closer. Patti had cleaned up the drug paraphernalia and called 911. The urge to escape jolted me into action. I ran, the damp air slapping at my face, until I shuddered to a stop at the corner of the block. Nighttime traffic flashed by. My head spun. Which way to go? I had no home. Belonged nowhere. I stood, temporarily blinded by the glare of headlights, and rested my hands on my knees, bent my head and gulped in chilly mouthfuls of air.

I had no home.

So I started jogging in the direction of the mall, my only sanctuary. I ran, the tears sticky on my cheeks until I reached a patch of grass near the mall entrance.

I flung myself down on the ground and rolled over and over in the gritty grass. Pulled my hair, ripped my clothes, howled until my throat was raw and my face covered in snot. Then I lay there, burnt out and hollow, staring up at stars that shone like silver pinpricks in an infinite black expanse of sky.

I’d already made my mind up to jump off the bridge into the river. The stars were just pointing the way. It would be so easy to let the muddy waters close in over my head and fill my lungs until they burst. Nobody cared anyway. My death would be insignificant – less impact than a fly smudged over a windshield.

I got up again and ran towards the river. Exhausted I stumbled down the bank towards the Stone Arch Bridge. The place where Birdie and I had eaten hot dogs and watched the tourists go by. Envious of the bright, laughing faces of those happy families. We didn’t know the truth then. But now I was wiser. Now I knew that families were just collections of disparate individuals thrown together by nature. Parasites who sucked the life from each other while trying to promote their own miserable, selfish needs.

I grasped the painted metal railing, hiccupping and retching at the same time. I howled into the night like a stray, unloved dog. The river lapped and sloshed below me, its muddy brown water flecked with golden coins of light from the streetlamps. All I had to