Havoc

“I want her gone,” Danica cries while her mom rubs her back. “I just want her out of my life. I want her gone so I can move on.”

My uncle sighs heavily as he stares at what’s left of the turkey at the center of the table. He stares, and he stares. “We’ll talk about it after dinner,” he decides.

“What’s there to talk about?” Danica shrieks, and my uncle’s voice hardens.

“Danica, we’ll discuss it after dinner.”

“There’s nothing to discuss! She’s horrible, Daddy! She ruined my life!”

My uncle Rick groans and sets his fork back on his plate for the second time. “That boy called you a thousand times after you broke up. You haven’t mentioned him for years. Why would you want him back now?”

I hold my tongue, but my brother doesn’t.

“He got a big recording contract with the biggest label there is,” he volunteers with his mouth full of stuffing. It might as well be popcorn, with the way he’s shoving it into his mouth and watching the show. “He’s famous now.”

My uncle and aunt frown at Danica, and she completely falls apart. “That has nothing to do with it,” she sobs, but her parents continue studying her.

I hate that I can’t tell if her tears are genuine or not. I don’t know whether to feel sorry or angry. I wish I could fix her—this broken thing that she grew into.

“Hailey,” my uncle finally says, and I tear my eyes from Danica, holding a deep breath in preparation for what’s coming. “You’re going to need to move out.”

“I understand,” I say, avoiding the looks my parents are giving me. I can’t bear to see the disappointment on their faces. I hope one day they’ll understand. They loved the farm, and they never left it. I love Mike, and I’ll never leave him.

Their happiness is a place, but mine is a drummer with warmth in his eyes and sparks in his smile.

“I’ll make some calls,” my uncle adds, “and see if I can get you into the dorms.”

My heart hurtles over a beat as I stare at him, wondering if I really heard what I think I just heard, and Danica’s anger slices across the table.

“What? No! Dad! She doesn’t deserve it!”

“I’m sorry you’re upset, honey,” my uncle Rick says, and Danica’s hands start shaking. “But you two are adults, and you’ll have to work it out. I’m not going to pull anyone out of school over some boy.”

“You’re just going to keep paying for her to finish? After what she did to me?” Danica yells, and the unmoved look on my uncle Rick’s face confirms it. I don’t know what to think, or what to feel, so I sit there with my heart pounding violently against my ribs.

“I HATE YOU!” Danica screams at me, pushing her chair back viciously as she rises to her feet. “I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

“Danica,” her mom pleads, but Danica storms from the room. She leaves us sitting there in awkward silence, with everyone looking from me to my uncle and back again.

He sighs, and then he picks up his fork for the third time and holds it as he contemplates his food. His eyes drift to my plate, and he calmly says, “Eat your turkey, Hailey.”

I pick up my fork. And for the first time in eight years, I eat my turkey.

Chapter 51

During one family dinner when I was a teenager, two of our horses broke out of their stables to get their freak on literally right outside of our dining room window, and that family dinner was still not as awkward as this one. The conversation turns to weather, business, school—all sorts of normal, safe things . . . while my mentally unstable cousin sits upstairs in her room probably planning how she’s going to disfigure and dismember me without getting caught.

I hand-wash the china after dinner, and my brother dries the dishes, mostly, I suspect, so that I don’t get butcher-knifed in the back while I’m standing at the sink. He asks me if Mike and I will get married, and he points out that if we do, Mike will be his big brother. I tell him not to get his hopes up since I’m pretty sure Danica is upstairs taking out a hit on me as we speak.

I wash dishes until there’s nothing left to wash. And then I wipe down the counters. And then I sweep the floors. And then . . . I hide like a coward in the powder room. Sitting on the closed toilet, I pull my phone out and text Rowan and Dee and tell them what happened.

Dee: OH MY GOD HELL YES

Rowan: YAY!!!!

Me: I feel sick.

Dee: What’s the evil bitch doing now?

Me: Probably plotting my death. I need to get out of here. Any chance you guys are close to Downingtown?

Dee: No. We’re up near Fairview.

Rowan: Hold on, I’m texting Leti and Kale. I think they’re at Kale and Kit’s parents’ place.

I chew on my thumbnail and tap my foot against the stone floor for just a few seconds before another text comes through.

Leti: We’re on our way. What’s the address?

I’m about to type the address when a knock sounds against the door, and I clutch my phone to my chest.

“Hailey?” my mom asks, and I stop white-knuckling the device in my hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? You’ve been in there a while . . .”

“Be right out.”

“Okay . . .”

Her footsteps fade away, and I send the address to Leti as quickly as I can. When he tells me he’ll be here in about twenty minutes, I decide that’s twenty minutes too long.