Shattered Memories (The Mirror Sisters 3) - Page 52

“Don’t worry. I’m tired, too. And I don’t want to go over the night like some sociology report,” she added. “Marcy will probably keep Terri up all night.”

“Probably,” I said.

Down the hall toward our room, Mrs. Rosewell was telling two other girls to lower their music. She stood in the doorway, giving them a lecture about the benefits of sleep.

“You girls are always so concerned about how you look. Well, don’t you know that not getting enough sleep will age you faster?” she warned them. She glanced at me as I went by.

“Good night, Mrs. Rosewell,” I said.

“Yes, good night. There’s a good girl,” she added for the benefit of the other two.

I hurried away. If there was one thing I didn’t want to become here, it was a touchstone for the best behavior. I remembered how cruel Haylee could be ripping apart one of the girls in our school who refused to smoke a joint, drink, or talk openly about sex. Eventually, most of the girls would treat Haylee’s target like a leper.

Curling up snugly in my bed, I thought about Troy. Something had made him extra cautious about whom he would share any personal or intimate things. In a way, he did remind me of myself. One thing was for sure. He had his secrets, and I had mine. Would that eventually drive us apart or bring us together?

“?’Night,” Claudia said when she returned.

“?’Night. I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Thank you. Actually, regardless of what Marcy wants to do, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m afraid to admit I had a good time to too many people, afraid that if I do, it will disappear.”

“One thing about good times, Claudia. They might end, but that doesn’t take away what you had. That stays with you. No matter what, don’t think you have to be as intense as Marcy. If it works, it works. If it doesn’t, there’s always tomorrow.”

She didn’t answer. I thought she had fallen asleep, and then she suddenly said, “Marcy is right about you.”

“Oh? Right in what way?”

“Something has made you older and wiser.”

Now it was my turn not to answer. She sensed it and didn’t say another word. Sleep came not a moment too soon for her, probably because of the drinking, but it didn’t come quickly for me. Instead, I tossed and turned, worrying that I was too obvious after all. Restraint was all right, but filtering every word I said through a strainer to be sure nothing would lead to a dreaded question was making me stand out. For most girls my age, calling someone older and wiser was a euphemism for boring. At a place like this especially, you want to feel like you left your mother and father home and all the promises to behave and be responsible along with them. Feeling independent and a little reckless was exciting.

Perhaps I should start making things up, I thought. Maybe I could create another persona for myself. And then it hit me like a snowball in the face. I already had another persona built in: Haylee. I wouldn’t simply sit there like a mannequin when the other girls talked about their romances and experiences. I’d tell them what Haylee had done as if I had done it and take possession of it all. No one would call me Grandma then.

I snuggled with the plan, but then another voice spoke to me. If you do that, it will simply be another victory for your sister. She always wanted to turn you into her.

It was all so confusing, but why would it be anything else? I thought, and finally did fall asleep.

I was the first of the three of us up and dressed the following morning. When I rose, Claudia was still in a deep sleep. At the cafeteria, Terri told me Marcy was facedown, her arm dangling off the bed like the arm of a dead person.

“And she snored all night,” she said. “I never heard her do that!”

My first impulse was to tell her and the other girls who were laughing about it that actions have consequences. I was about to say that when I stopped myself and started to talk about the worst hangovers I’d ever had, even though I personally had little reference for that. Instead, I recalled Haylee the first time we had gone to a party, where she not only drank vodka but also smoked pot. She was alert enough to know Mother would pounce and ground us for months if she realized it, so she pretended to be sick from something she had eaten, and I went along with it for her, claiming my stomach was upset, too. It was good enough for Mother, who lectured us on being more cautious when eating other people’s food. Few, she said, would take the care to be sure whatever they made for us was nutritious and fresh.

Haylee slept until noon the next day. I tried to wake her, but she only groaned and chased me away. Consequently, I had to stay in bed as well, mimicking her symptoms. But it all worked, and she got away with it. She was right to predict that Mother would have forbidden us to go to another party, maybe even for the remainder of our school year, so I actually was lying for myself as well as Haylee. Afterward, as usual, Haylee made light of it all and complimented me on how well I went along with her plan. Fortunately, my father wasn’t there. He would have seen right through us. Mother was still living in that bubble where she could be quite convinced we would never do anything so dreadful.

Troy wasn’t in the cafeteria when I had gone in for breakfast, so I joined the girls. We had not made plans to meet, but I was hoping he would want me to join him. I was still worrying about my reaction to his attempt to kiss me good night. Would he have second thoughts and cancel our date tonight? Estelle Marcus noticed how I was watching the entrance. She nudged Jessie Paul, and they both smiled at me.

“What?” I asked, seeing their arrogant grins.

“You can stop waiting for him. Troy Matzner rarely comes to breakfast on weekends. He goes somewhere else,” Estelle said.

“Some diner, I heard,” Jessie said. “Didn’t he tell you that?”

“Our daily routines didn’t come up,” I said.

“What did?” Toby Dickens asked. Pounced, I should say.

I looked at the girls and the way they were all looking back at me, anticipating. Simply saying he had taken me to get an ice cream sundae obviously hadn’t impressed Marcy and wouldn’t impress these girls, either. I didn’t want to belittle our time together, but I suspected there wasn’t anyone here who would have enjoyed it.

Tags: V.C. Andrews The Mirror Sisters Suspense
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