When her grandmother finally died, and Tracy talked her father into letting her move into the big suite, she’d change it all.
Everything.
But until then, she had to go on pretending to her grandmother. Grandparents, after all, had been known to cut people out of their wills. Tracy, even though she wasn’t quite thirteen yet, wasn’t about to let something like that happen.
Suddenly she stopped, listening. From behind a closed door she could barely make out the sounds of one of her favorite rock bands. She frowned, and listened harder.
The music was coming from Beth’s room.
She listened for a moment, her body unconsciously swaying to the familiar rhythms. Then, her eyes narrowing, she strode to Beth’s door, and pushed it open without knocking.
Startled at Tracy’s sudden entry, Beth sat up in bed and stared at the other girl.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she heard Tracy hiss.
“Tracy? What … what’s wrong?”
“That music, stupid! Don’t you know we’re mourning my grandfather?”
Beth stared at Tracy for a second, trying to understand what she’d done. “But—I was playing it soft.”
“You shouldn’t be playing it at all,” Tracy said. “How can anybody sleep, with you blaring your radio?”
“But you can hardly hear it—” Beth protested.
“I could hear it,” Tracy insisted. “And my grandmother could, too! Shut it off!”
Beth’s eyes widened, and she reached over to turn the knob on the clock-radio. “I’ll turn it down—”
“Turn it off!” Tracy insisted. She marched over to the night table, and punched at the button on top. The radio went silent. Beth, her eyes frightened, stared at her stepsister.
“I don’t see why I can’t listen to it if it’s so soft no one else can hear—”
“You can’t listen to it, because I said you can’t. It’s my house—not yours—and if you don’t like it here, you can just go live somewhere else!”
“But Mom said—”
“Who cares what your mother says?” Tracy demanded. “Just because your stupid mother married my father doesn’t give you the right to—”
Suddenly Beth’s anger overcame her confusion. “You take that back, Tracy Sturgess!”
Tracy, startled by the unexpected outburst, stepped back. “Don’t you talk to me like that!”
“Don’t you call my mother stupid!”
Tracy’s eyes hardened, and her mouth set petulantly. “I’ll call your mother anything I want, and you can’t stop me!”
Beth stared at Tracy, fighting back her anger. “Just go away,” she finally managed to say. “Just go away and leave me alone.”
The, two girls stared at each other for several long seconds, Tracy’s eyes glittering with rage while Beth struggled against the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Then, at last, Tracy turned and stamped out of the room.
As soon as Tracy was gone, Beth ran to the door and locked it, then returned to her bed. Sobbing, she buried her head in the pillow.
It wasn’t going to get any better, despite what her father had told her. It was only going to get worse, and it wouldn’t matter what she did, or how much she pretended.
Tracy would still hate her.
Her sobs slowly subsided, and she lay in bed wondering what tomorrow would be like.
But she already knew.
It would start at breakfast.
She would sit miserably at the table in the breakfast room, trying to figure out which spoon to use for what.
Old Mrs. Sturgess would ignore her, just like she always did.
But Tracy would watch her, waiting for her to make a mistake, so that she could laugh when Beth made one.
And she would say or do something wrong. She always did.
But what if she didn’t go down for breakfast? What if she got up early, and sneaked down to have breakfast with Hannah? Then she could go down to the stable and see the horses, and after that—
—What?
Tracy would come, and tell her she didn’t know anything about horses, and that she should leave them alone.
And the trouble was, Tracy was right.
Beth didn’t know anything about horses. She didn’t know anything about anything in this house, and she’d never learn.
She snuggled deeper under the covers, and closed her eyes. Maybe, if she pretended hard enough, she could convince herself that she was back in the house on Cherry Street, where she’d lived before. And she could pretend that her parents were still married, and—
—and she couldn’t do it.
Her parents weren’t still married. Her mother was married to Uncle Phillip, and she had to get used to it.
She had to, and she would. Her mother wanted her to, and so did her father.
She turned over, telling herself that it wasn’t really so bad. It was