Wild Swans - Jessica Spotswood Page 0,61

stare at him until he sighs and relents. “You’re not grounded. But I want to see you making more of an effort with Isobel, all right? This is new territory for all of us. We’re all going to make mistakes. I know it wasn’t our idea to keep her in the dark, but we need to work extra hard now to make amends. To earn her trust.”

“I understand,” I say. “Good night.”

I trudge upstairs. Pass the bathroom, where I can hear Isobel throwing up.

I pause. Should I stop and—what? Offer to hold her hair?

Erica ruined everything, so now I have to work extra hard to prove myself.

That’s the story of my life.

And I am getting goddamn sick of it.

I keep walking.

Chapter

Sixteen

Gracie finds me in the kitchen late the next morning. “Something’s wrong with Izzy,” she announces. “She’s sick. I heard her throw up and she says she doesn’t want any ginger ale and I don’t know what to do.”

I get up from the table, where I’ve been reading an awesome graphic novel, Nimona, that I borrowed from the library on Abby’s recommendation. I go to the fridge and pour some ginger ale because, like it or not, Izzy needs to hydrate. “I’m on it.”

Gracie hovers. “She says her head hurts.”

“I bet it does.”

Grace’s little face is all scrunched up with worry. Her blond hair is pulled back into a simple ponytail, which makes me think it’s Isobel who braids her hair every morning. That softens my annoyance. “I’ll take care of her. Don’t worry. Why don’t you go read more Fancy Nancy in the sunroom?”

Gracie beams at me. “Izzy always says when I have a problem I should tell her because she’s the big sister and she’ll fix it. So I knew I could tell you because now you’re the big sister!” She throws her arms around my waist and then runs off, her bare feet pattering against the tile floors, clutching her book in one hand and her stuffed puppy in the other.

I knock lightly on their bedroom door before letting myself in. Isobel’s side of the room is a mess of clothes and shoes, and she’s taped posters from a few Broadway shows on the walls: Hamilton, The Book of Mormon, and Chicago. Isobel herself is curled up on her twin bed. She opens one eye and glares at me. “Did I say you could come in?”

“Sit up.” I stride across the room and yank the curtains open.

“What the hell!” she shrieks, blinking and throwing her arm over her eyes. “Why would you do that?”

“You need to get up. You’re freaking Gracie out. She thinks you’re dying or something.” Isobel sits up and I hand her the glass of ginger ale. “Drink this. Then we’ll get you something to eat.”

Isobel’s hair is straggling out of last night’s braids, and last night’s mascara and eyeliner are smeared beneath her eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve gotten trashed.”

“I haven’t, but Alex has.” I smile at the memory. “It was some dumb initiation for the baseball team freshman year. He was scared to go home and face Luisa, and Granddad was at some faculty thing, so Alex came over here and hid out. He got sick and then ended up taking a nap in the living room. I made it look like he fell asleep watching an old movie with me.”

Iz takes a few tentative sips, then lies back down. “Did he get away with it?”

“Nope. We thought we were sneaky, but Luisa totally grounded him.”

She groans. “Mama would never ground me. Do I really have to go to that stupid theater camp? Can’t you, like, talk to Granddad for me?”

“Wouldn’t do any good. He doesn’t change his mind about stuff like that.” I sit on Gracie’s unmade bed. She has Frozen sheets.

“You didn’t get in trouble,” Iz complains.

“I got a lecture for letting you get drunk,” I say. “Has Erica checked on you?”

“Are you kidding? No. She’s barely looked at me since we found out you’re our sister.”

“Maybe she feels bad for lying.” I stack the pile of chapter books next to Gracie’s bed.

“Um, no. She just doesn’t want to deal with me being mad. That’s why she pawned me off on Alex last night. You think she cares whether I make friends?” Iz leans up on one elbow. “I have every right to be mad at her. And at you.”

I lift my gaze to hers. “I’m sorry. I really am. I wish I’d told you the truth the day you