Furious - By Jill Wolfson Page 0,50

of police cars and people being questioned. There’s an ambulance, and two paramedics lift someone—I look closer; it’s Dwayne—onto a stretcher. His girlfriend glances at us, bewildered and scared, and quickly turns away.

Alix is slowing coming back to life, this life, the ordinary life. She gives Simon a sisterly rub on the top of his head. “All’s okay, big guy. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you left! You were gone,” Simon insists. “And Daddy! The car hit him.”

I pull Raymond close and whisper: “Did anybody see us? Does anybody…”

“Drunk.” Raymond takes a step back from me, like I smell bad. “He started wobbling. Talking crazy. They assume he was so drunk that he accidentally walked in front of that car.”

I have a sick, panicked feeling and an awful thought. “He’s … Is he…? He’s not…” I try to ask.

Raymond gives me a push, a real shove, nothing friendly about it. I’ve never seen him so upset. “No, Meg, he’s not dead. Not this time. But I don’t know what would have happened if I couldn’t reach you.”

“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I—”

“Why are you sorry?” Alix interrupts. “Dwayne’s the one who lied.”

She has Simon by the hand, and he’s pulling at it, perplexed about the situation and where his loyalties should be. With his dad, being put into an ambulance? With his new best dude friend or his beloved sister, who are yelling at each other? I motion for Stephanie to distract Simon, and she takes him aside.

Raymond waits until Simon is out of earshot before unleashing his anger. “Just because your dad happens to be one of the biggest nitwidiots who ever walked the planet doesn’t mean he should be roadkill two blocks from the boardwalk.”

Alex remains certain, unmoved. “He needed a lesson.”

“A lesson? That was attempted murder with a moving vehicle.”

“We didn’t touch the dickwad! Let someone try and prove we did.”

“Nice rationalization, Alix. You made him so crazed with guilt that he jumped in front of a car.”

Then Raymond whirls on me, even madder: “That wasn’t justice. That was revenge. You did what you promised you wouldn’t do. You went out of control.”

17

The next day after school, Raymond invites himself over. I don’t want him to come, but I can’t figure a way out of it. His excuse is that we need to catch up on the huge amount of homework that we let slide the past week. But I know what he’s up to. The visit is a ruse, another opportunity to lecture me on a subject that, in my opinion, we’ve already talked to death. He just can’t let go of it, the whole Alix’s dad fiasco. That’s what he calls it: a fiasco.

What more can he say? I know that he’s not pleased that we went a little overboard. I know that he’s not pleased that I keep putting the adjective little in front of overboard. I know that he doesn’t think I admitted my part in it enough and that Alix and Stephanie aren’t treating what happened seriously.

The only good part of the afternoon so far is that we’re not cramped together in my old, depressing former bedroom. I let the Leech know that I would be much, much happier if she swapped her big, sunny bedroom for my small dungeon, and she assured me that given her previous disrespectful behavior toward me, she was only too glad to trade. It would make her feel better, less guilty. She cowered when she said it, and even gave me a ton of money so I could buy a brand-new mattress, ditch the old sheets and curtains, and redecorate the room to my own taste.

I’m propped against the headboard with Raymond sitting next to me on the big, cushy queen-sized bed. He takes one of my pillows and fluffs it behind his head. When he once again launches into his latest lecture on the dreaded subject, I try to wear a contrite expression. I do! I don’t want him to be mad at me. But the truth is, I’m tuning him out and instead admiring the lace curtains that I paid full price for. I like the way the light filters in and makes patterns on the wall. I like the way they set off Francine, my ceramic frog planter. The curtains are white, the sheets are white, everything new is white, Ambrosia style.

Meanwhile.

Raymond’s voice is at its most irritating. “Do you remember the promise you made? Do you want me to take your firstborn? Didn’t you