towards her and narrow my eyes. “You’re right. It’s not. I won’t go back and you can’t make me.”
I probably seem petulant to a casual observer, but a casual observer doesn’t know what I’ve been through. I spent most of my life abused, neglected, and isolated. For a brief moment, I had safety, hope, and love. Now it’s gone.
Her face creases into angry lines. The same angry lines my father showed me right before a beating. She probably wants to hit me. I would probably want to hit me if I were in her shoes. But I’m not. I’m in my shoes, and from where I sit, I have nothing left to lose. They can’t do anything to me that hasn’t already been done before.
She snatches her purse from the seat next to her and gets up with that look stuck on her face. I follow her out without a word.
I won this round.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
The walk to and from La Costa High is long and I’m famished when I walk through the door. I rummage through the fruit in the refrigerator for something to quiet my stomach.
“What are you doing?” Terry asks, glowering.
I remove an apple. “Getting some fruit.” I hold the apple aloft to show her.
“Put it back.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“You can wait until dinner.”
“No, I can’t. I’m hungry now.” My stomach rumbles its confirmation.
“You didn’t have permission. Now put it back.”
I huff. “May I please have an apple?”
It’s ridiculous to ask for food when I didn’t have to ask for it from the man who beat me. He may have delayed access as part of my punishment, but I never had to ask for food.
“No.”
I slam the apple on the counter and then storm off to my room. I empty my backpack, tossing my books all over the cheap pink comforter covering my bed. Maybe homework will distract me from my grumbling stomach.
Terry barges in without knocking while I work on a chemistry problem. The Lloyds think we don’t deserve the courtesy of a knock because we are in their home.
“You have a phone call,” she says, tossing the cordless phone next to me. “Bring it out when you’re done.”
As far as I know, no one has called me before.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Sara,” an unfamiliar, soothing male voice says. “My name is Len Jefferson. I am the assistant district attorney working on the case against your parents.”
I straighten at the news. “Are they finally going to trial?”
“This summer,” he answers. “I would like to meet with you tomorrow after school, if that’s possible.”
“Okay.”
I let Terry know about the appointment tomorrow when I return the phone to its proper place in the living room.
“You’ll have to reschedule. Krista, Cal, and Nick have therapy tomorrow and I can’t leave you alone with a stranger.”
“I’m seventeen!” I leave out the fact that I live with strangers.
“With your history—”
Where does she get off? They might have their own children and grandchildren, but they are just as bad as my parents in my eyes. “My history? I didn’t do a damn thing! It was my parents and all you want to do is punish me for what they did!”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Sara.”
“Then how about you treat us with some respect? We’re human beings, Terry.” I swipe the phone off the cradle.
“Put it back,” she demands, as if we are starting the apple fight all over again.
“Do you want me to reschedule my appointment or not?” Times like this make me question her intelligence.
“You have two minutes.”
I dial the number Len gave me on the way back to my room. He answers as I shut the door and I explain the problem with him meeting me after school. He agrees to see me at school and pull me out of class. I return the phone and refuse to look at Terry. I won’t let her win.
I won’t let any of them win.
The blond man sitting across from me in the school’s conference room is not what I expect. A navy blue suit and white shirt with blue pinstripes hugs his body as a burgundy silk tie gleams in the fluorescent lighting. One leg is crossed over the other with a leather-bound planner on them and his hands folded on top. His green-gray eyes are intent as he listens to my complaints about Blake, the Lloyds, and the state taking me from the Jerichos.
“The state’s job is to keep you safe. I can’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do,” he states.
“Thank you,”