might get to live.”
April’s hand shook as she handed him her phone and watched him shut it, then followed his instructions to get back in the car without making a sound or looking like he was forcing her.
“Who did you call?”
“I couldn’t get through,” she lied, but he had already flipped open her phone. DIANNA was at the top of her call list.
He slammed the gun into her jaw and she was stunned by the flash of blinding pain that ran through her.
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing,” she moaned around the blood in her mouth.
He hit her with the gun again, harder this time across the forehead, and the pain was so ferocious she barely heard him say, “You stupid bitch, you better not have ruined everything for me. Does she know where you are?”
She was in too much pain to lie and the “no” escaped her before she could pull it back. Even as she waited for his next blow, the sunlight seemed to dim. The last thing she heard was a muffled, “Fuck,” before she passed out.
Hours later, finding herself bound and gagged in a closet, she couldn’t help but wonder, Why does bad shit always happen to me?
Three months ago, she’d thought leaving San Francisco was the best thing for everyone. Especially after she’d overheard Dianna’s public relations team tell her she’d better “rein April in before she does something to make headlines.” She hadn’t stayed to hear Dianna’s response.
Sure, April knew she was a screwup that no one wanted, but it killed her to hear the words come out of someone’s mouth.
Clearly, the whole sister-as-guardian thing was a nice gesture on Dianna’s part, but it hadn’t worked out. So when April’s new boyfriend, Kevin, asked her to come with him to Colorado, she didn’t even have to think about it, she just packed a bag and got on the bus.
The two-day ride gave her plenty of time to think. All her life, she’d been angry with Dianna for getting to stay with their mother while April had been sent off to live with strangers. At the same time, when Dianna finally pulled her out of the system, she hadn’t known how to respond to Dianna’s overwhelming affection, to the way she wanted to hang out all the time and do girl stuff like go to the mall and get makeovers.
Life as a foster kid either made you weak and scared of everything—or it gave you calluses. Everywhere. In the throes of teenage angst, the more her big sister tried to reach her, the more she’d pulled away. Rebellion was what April did and she did it well, but then even that got old. Predictable.
By the end of the bus ride to Vail, April had made the decision that she was ready to stop being Dianna Kelley’s screwed-up little sister. She was ready for something new.
She was ready for a better life.
It was a two-day hike through the Rockies to the Farm and frankly, she was a little freaked out about living in an intentional community.
But, amazingly, she’d found herself fitting in with the band of misfits. And for the first time, she almost felt like she was part of a family.
Her brothers and sisters on the Farm accepted her for who she really was. They didn’t try to change her clothes, her hair, or the music she liked. While Dianna had always coddled her, she was given real responsibilities on the Farm as a cook. She was surprised by how natural it felt to stand over a hot fire, to pound herbs together with a mortar and pestle, to knead bread until it was just the right consistency. Up in the Rockies, she felt more at peace than she ever had.
And then guilt started creeping up on her, slowly but surely, day after day, week after week. When she’d finally asked to use the Farm’s lone phone line and checked her voice mail, she cringed listening to Dianna’s anxious string of messages. It was time to set up a meeting to show her ubersuccessful big sister that she was finally doing something good, that she was finally on the right track with her life and was coming into her own.
With the only access road newly blocked by fallen trees, it was another two-day hike into town. It wasn’t an easy journey, but April liked knowing that she had the skills to take care of herself, that she didn’t need to rely on Kevin or anyone else