The Illusion of Annabella (11 page)

The shirt reminds me of my dad, and knots ravel in my chest. He used to listen to them all the time. In fact, I was listening to them the day of the accident, right before my mom drove out to the antique store.

Luca tracks my gaze to his shirt. “You ever listen to them?”

I slowly shake my head. “No. Never.”

He cocks a brow, giving me a skeptical look.

“I swear haven’t.” I feel the need to make him believe my lie, because it makes it easier to lie to myself.

“Okay, you haven’t then. But it’d be cool if you had. It’s a really cool band.” He still sounds doubtful that I haven’t heard of the band, and the accusation in his tone flusters me.

I want to look away from him, but I can’t bring myself to. It’s creeping me out because I swear it’s like he knows the old me . . .

“So, what do you like to do for fun, Annabella?” Tammy interrupts our moment as she drives onto the road, slipping on a pair of aviator sunglasses. “Or do you go by Anna? I think I heard your brother call you that.”

“When did you talk to my brother?” I ask her, still staring at Luca who’s staring at me with curiosity in his eyes.

“For a little bit yesterday evening, and also this morning. He’s a very lovely young man. That’s how I knew your family owned the bookstore.” She adjusts the rearview mirror, angling it right at me.

Mascara and eyeliner are melting down my face, and my skin looks pallid. Oh, my God, I feel so mortified. I want to wipe the mess away with my fingertips, but force myself to place my hands on my lap. I can’t be that girl who cares if a guy sees her looking like a mess. If I’m her, then I’ll be the girl who loves glitter. Who dreams. Who worships her mother. Who was a dancer . . .

Tears threaten to seep out and I start counting my breaths, crossing my fingers we’ll get home soon where my pills will be waiting for me.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Don’t cry.

“Your brother also told me you like to dance,” Tammy says, and I just about lose it, right there in the car. Start sobbing like a freak. “I think that’s great,” she continues, seeming oblivious to my meltdown. “I used to dance myself. That was quite a while ago, though. I’m not even sure I could do it anymore—it’s been so long.”

The sunlight burns against my eyes as I stare unblinkingly out the window. “I
used
to dance but not anymore.” I pinch the side of my leg, stab my nails into the fabric of my jeans, bite down on my tongue, seeking pain strong enough to erase the agony stirring inside me.

“Oh. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

I don’t utter a word. Can’t. Can barely breathe.

“Hey, Mom. Weren’t you supposed to call dad when we were heading back to the house,” Luca says, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d guess he was giving me a break from her questioning.

“Shit, I forgot.” She grabs her phone from her purse and dials a number.

While she’s chatting with Luca’s dad, Luca inches closer to me in the seat. “Hey, are you okay?”

I bob my head up and down. “If I knew she was going to ask all these question, I would’ve just walked home.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says in a low, quiet tone. “She’s really bad at sensing when people don’t want to talk about stuff.”

“I think I would’ve been better off getting chased down the street,” I admit, picking at my fingernails with my head tipped down.

“You say that now, but until you’ve lived the full experience, you don’t get how embarrassing it can be.” He pauses, taking a breath or two. “You want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

I give him an are-you-insane look. “Why would I? I don’t even know you.”

“I know, and I honestly don’t really expect you to open up to me,” he says, offering me a timid smile. “But since we’re at that awkward new friends phase, I figure I could ask.”

“You’re seriously the strangest person I’ve ever met.”

“Now I know that’s not true. Not when you’ve met my mom.”

“She doesn’t seem that—” I say, but he holds up a hand, silencing me.

“Just give it a minute,” he tells me, looking at his mom who’s still talking on the phone.

“Of course I want you to have an opinion,” she says. “It’s your store, too, sweetie.” She pauses, and Luca spreads his hands apart in front of him, as if signaling a grand finale. “But wouldn’t it be really amazing if we all dressed up like puppets and did a life size puppet show. Luca could be part of it, too, and I could make our outfits out of those matching doll Halloween costumes we wore a couple of years ago.” She smacks her hand against the steering wheel, getting even more excited. “I could even bedazzle them up, put some rhinestones and sparkles on them.”

Luca eases back in the seat, propping his foot onto his knee. “And there you go.”

“She’s not that bad,” I say, but deep down, I want to laugh at her excitement over doll costumes, rhinestones, and puppet shows.

“Not that bad.” He gapes at me. “Anna, she’s going to make me wear a doll costume.”

“So.” I find this conversation way too amusing. “There’s guy dolls, too, you know.”

“With rhinestones,” he adds, staring at me unfathomably. “And sparkles.”

“Rhinestones and sparkles can be cool,” I say. “In their own glittery way.”

He examines me with suspicion in his eyes. “You’re speaking from experience. I can tell.” He wags a finger at me. “Admit, you secretly like rhinestones and sparkly things.”

“I so do not,” I say in horror. “I hate stuff like that.”

“I bet you even secretly like all that stuff,” he continues on, ignoring me. “I bet late at night, when you think everyone is asleep, you trade your boots and leather jacket for pink, glittery dresses.”

“No, I don’t.” My nerves are so frazzled I can’t think straight. “Luca, I’m not like that anymore.”

“
Anymore
?” he questions, and waits for me to answer.

But I simply shake my head and fix my attention on the ranch-style houses, the trees outside, the people wandering around the streets. Everything is buzzing with life. I miss that feeling.

Luca must sense that he’s triggered a nerve because he remains quiet.

By the time we reach our neighborhood, a cringe-worthy silence has built between the three of us. I’m so relieved to be home that I bail out of the car a little too eagerly, roll my ankle, and fall down on the concrete.

“Oh, my goodness, are you okay?” Tammy rushes over, fussing over me.

“I’m fine.” I motion at her to get away as I stumble to my feet. “Thanks for the ride.” I don’t look at either of them as I round the fence between our properties.

“Hey, Anna.” Luca jogs after me, and I want to run from him, but have no choice but to stop. “I’m sorry if I upset you in the car. I didn’t mean to.”

“I’m fine.” I swallow hard at the lie. “Look, I have to go. I need to check up on my brother and sisters.” Another lie. So many are piling up that I wonder if I won’t be able to discern fact from fiction.

“Okay.” He seems a little upset, but waves at me before heading back down the driveway.

I have the craziest urge to chase after him, beg him to joke around with me more, let myself have what I used to want. But instead I turn for door and walk away.

By the time I make it inside, blood has soaked through the knee of my jeans, and my skin is on fire.

Not bothering to clean up the wound, I climb the stairs, fishing out my phone from inside my pocket. I have three missed texts. One from Miller, one from Cece, and one from Jessamine, my older sister. Every once in a while she tries to check in, but I never reply because I don’t really have anything to say to her.

I read Miller’s first, knowing it’ll be easier to handle.

Miller: Hey, it’s me. Just seein’ if u wanna come over and hang. I know things were intense yesterday so I thought we could just chill and take it easy for the night. Maybe go c that movie you’ve been wanting to c. That one about that guy and girl who go on that trip. I could even pick u up.

I have no idea what movie he’s talking about since we’ve never discussed my likes and dislikes. More than likely he’s getting me mixed up with someone else, probably another girl.

Mentally preparing myself, I switch to Cece’s message.

Cece: Hey, I was looking through this old box of photos for my mom and found one of you and me that we took that the party last June. Remember how much fun we had that night dancing? I really miss that . . . But anyway, I just wanted to say hi. I know things have been really awkward and u say u don’t want to talk, but I really think we should, especially after the other day. I saw the look on your face in class when I was talking to Ben. This thing with him isn’t what u think. We’re just friends. I promise I won’t do that to u . . . Please, just call me okay. Maybe we can get together over xmas break or something!

My heart squeezes at the exclamation point at the end. Totally a Cece thing to do, and it makes me sad, makes me miss things I don’t want to miss.

With unsteady fingers, I move to the final one.

Jessamine: Hey, it’s me. I haven’t heard from u in a while. Loki texted me the other day and said there was a lot of stuff going on and wanted me to talk to u. Call me, Anna. U never pick up when I call.  Pleaz. I want to help.

“No, you don’t. Trust me,” I mutter to the screen. “You’re better off away in London—far, far away from this mess I’ve created.”

I don’t reply to any of the texts. Ignoring the yelling coming from the family room, I go straight up to my bedroom. I flop down on my bed with the book and fan through the pages again but stop at the inside back cover. An envelope is taped to it with
Dennis
scribbled across the front. I gulp. Dennis who? I want to find out the answer, yet I hesitate. The handwriting resembles my mother’s. My mom the liar. The cheater. Dead in her grave, buried with her secrets, only she left some of them here with me.

What the hell is wrong with me? I’m filled with so much hate all the time.

“God, I hate myself.”  Tears threaten to pour out, and I chuck the book across the room and bury my face into a pillow, smothering a scream until the anger is locked back inside me again. But no matter how hard I fight back the rage, this time I can’t seem to get myself under control. I need to get out of here. Get away from a house haunted by memories and glitter. Where my dreams of dancing started. Where I used to be a happy person, used to be so much more than what I am now.

I open Miller’s message and my fingers hover over the keypad.

Me: Yeah, come pick me up.

Miller: Sweet. What’s your address?

Giving him my address means handing over a real piece of my life. That’s not what Miller’s for, but I really want to leave and my leg aches way too much to be walking around.

Shards of Broken Glass

On my way outside to meet Miller, Zhara comes barreling out of the family room. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” I dodge to the right to swing around her but she sidesteps and blocks my path. Without directly looking at her, I grab onto the banister. “Zhara, move out of my way.”

She shakes her head. “I . . . I can’t do that.”

“Yeah, you can. Now move.” I move to step around her again, but she sidesteps, getting in my way again. Frustration bursts inside me because she’s blocking my escape to freedom and the pills downstairs that I plan on taking. “Zhara, seriously. Get out of my way before I make you move.”

Her cat eyes widen. “Loki texted me and told me not to let you go anywhere . . . I don’t want to get in trouble if you leave.”

“You won’t get into trouble.” I push her aside to squeeze by.

“Anna! Please don’t leave! I don’t want to get into trouble,” she says, chasing after me.

“Take a look around you.” I motion at the empty house. “No one here cares what we do.”

“That’s not true!” She sniffles. “Mom and Dad used to. And Loki cares now. And so do I.”

“Yeah, well, Loki’s not here.” I start down the stairs, my focus on one thing—the bottle of pills in the cupboard.

“How can you be so mean and uncaring all the time?” she asks, looking at me like she has no clue who I am anymore. “You used to be so nice.”

I descend the stairway, gripping onto the railing to keep weight off my scarred leg. “I used to be a lot of things.”

“You can still be those things,” she says, shuffling after me. “I know some things are different, but you still have me, Loki, and Nik who want to help you get through this. Even Alexis would probably help.”

“I don’t need help from anyone.” I leave her veering toward tears and duck into the kitchen to pop a pill. Then I sit on the porch to wait for Miller.

Right as the pills are kicking in, I spot his truck bumping up the street.

The exhaust backfires when he pulls up to the garage, and Mrs. Fefferson from across the street shakes her head in dismay. I head down the driveway, but stop when I notice Luca watching me from his front yard. I don’t like how he’s looking at me, as if he’s worried and . . . Well, disappointed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, unsettlingly offended by his look.

“I wasn’t looking at you. Not the whole time anyway.” He squints against the fading sunlight as he crosses the strip of grass to the fence. “I was actually heading over to invite your family to dinner. My mom’s cooking a roast, and despite her crazy fetish with doll costumes and rhinestones, she’s actually a really great cook.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he casts a glance at Miller’s truck.

“You can knock on the door and ask my brother and sisters, but I already have plans.” I practically jump out of my skin when Miller honks the horn.

“Hurry up and get in!” Miller shouts out the window, clearly in a pissy mood over something. “I have to pick up Big Jay before we head to the party!”

I shoot a dirty look at Luca when he elevates his brows and mouths,
wow
. “Stop looking at me like that,” I say, mostly because the look makes me feel ashamed that I’m going with Miller.

“I already told you, I’m not looking at you like anything.” He glances at Miller’s truck. “Him, on the other hand . . .”

Trying to shove Luca’s judgment aside, I turn to the truck, but I’m super aware of him studying me intently, as if he’s trying to unscrew a bolt to my thoughts. “I thought we were going to the movies?” I ask Miller.

“Change of plans,” he snaps as he smashes his phone to his ear. “Now get in the truck.”

“Who the hell is that guy?” Luca mutters. “He seems like an asshole.”

“He’s not like this all the time. He’s just in a . . . bad mood.” I am only being half truthful. Normally Miller isn’t rude unless he’s strung out or one of his friends has done something to piss him off. “Stop judging me, okay?”

“I’m not judging you. I’m judging him.” But the judgment in Luca’s eyes suggests otherwise.

I no longer feel ashamed that I’m going with Miller, but I am ashamed of who I am now—of who I’ve chosen to become.
What would Mom and Dad think of me if they saw me now?

But who else am I supposed to be?

I jostle the thought from my mind, letting the pills take over. “I have to go,” I say to Luca. “I’ll see you later, maybe.” Bracing my hand on the hood of the truck, I reach for the passenger door.

“Wait a sec.” Luca bounds over the fence and fishes a pen from his shirt pocket. His warm fingers fold around my wrist, and my stomach flutters stupidly, something it hasn’t done for months.

“What are you doing?” I ask, jerking back in a panic.

He scribbles something on my palm before I can pull my hand away. “Call me if you need anything, okay?” He casts a distrustful glance at Miller who’s yelling at someone on the phone. “Like if you need a ride or something.”

I run my thumb along the ink on my palm. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because I’m a nice guy, something you’re clearly not used to.” He gives another pressing glance in Miller’s direction.

Again, I feel ashamed, but let the pill smother out the feeling like rain does to fire.

“So, you tried to carry my book and wrote your phone number on my hand. You are seriously old school, aren’t you?” I say. “Let me guess. This number is to your home phone.”

“Ha, ha,” he replies sarcastically, then flashes me a grin that causes my heart to beat like crazy. “No, it’s my cell, you goof.”

I don’t like how he’s making me feel inside, like I’m . . . Anna. Not Mysterious Annabella. Not Freaky Gimp Girl. Just plain, ordinary, sometimes good Anna who gets butterflies in her stomach.

“Thanks, but I promise I’m not going to need anything.” Before he can say anything else, I haul my ass into the truck.

“I don’t fucking care what’s going on,” Miller growls into the phone as he thrusts the shifter into reverse. “It’s not my problem. It’s your problem. That’s what you get paid for.”

Luca eyeballs the truck as Miller backs down the driveway and part of me wants to bail out of the truck, keep talking to him, feel what it’s like to be that girl again. Instead, I stay put and Luca turns for my front door as Miller drives toward the intersection at the end of the block. We make a right, and just like that, Luca and my need to be that old, silly girl vanishes out of sight.

I concentrate on the road while Miller continues to yammer on the phone, driving toward the highway on the opposite side of town. I wonder where we’re going, but don’t ask because it doesn’t really matter, as long as I get to escape my house and my thoughts.

As we near the site of the accident, I rest my forehead against the cool glass. Sunlight glistens across my face as I close my eyes and silently count to twenty. When I open my eyelids again, we’re smack dab in the middle of the road where the semi sideswiped my parents’ car. A mile marker is still bent from the crash and tiny metallic fragments still speckle in the grass on the side of the road.

The faint echo of metal crunching fills my head . . . The slam of the impact . . . The scream . . . The deafening silence . . .

He chucks his phone onto the dashboard, jolting me from the memory. “So, this fucking sucks.”

I tear my eyes away from the window. “What does?”

He fiddles with his eyebrow ring, hooking the tip of his pinkie through it. “The home owners are probably going to press charges.”

“How do you know that?”

“That was my lawyer on the phone. I mean, it’s not official or anything, but he said there’s a good chance they’re going to.”

“You have a lawyer?”

“Don’t you?”

I prop my clunky boots onto the dash, shrugging, being intentionally evasive, because Miller doesn’t need to know any more about me than he already does—it’s not what he’s for. I do have a lawyer, though. Jane’s a friend of the family and knows way more about me than she should.

“Well, you should, especially if you’re going to be hanging out with me a lot.” He shoots me an artful grin. “I have a bad habit of getting nice girls into trouble.”

My lip curls in annoyance as I remember how he abandoned me at that house. “I’m not a nice girl, Miller.” Which might be the most truthful thing I’ve said. I used to be, but now I’m just the girl who stresses out her brother, makes her sweet sister cry, and who ignores her younger brother. Alexis is the only one I'm not a bitch to, but that’s because she doesn’t care enough to even try to talk to me anymore.

“Yeah, you kinda are.” He continues to grin smugly, and it probably irks me more than it should. He sighs. “Look, I know why you’re really upset. I get it. I was kind of an ass for bailing on you like that.” He splays his fingers across my thigh and strokes my knee, and like always, I feel nothing from his touch, no shivers, no sparks.

It sends that familiar numbing feeling through my body, which is why I’m here, right? Usually, I can answer myself with an easy yes, but today I pause, remembering how I briefly contemplated going back to the house.

“But I’m already on probation, and I just . . . I don’t know, I panicked,” Miller continues on, withdrawing his hand and tugging his fingers through his blue hair. “If the owners do press charges, I’m in deep shit. I might even get jail time.”

I want to feel bad for him, but he brought it on himself. Just like I brought all of this on myself. If I would’ve been stronger and opened my mouth when my dad got in the car that day then maybe it would’ve put an end to the trip. Then we would’ve never been on the highway, never been in the accident, and Loki wouldn’t have had to give up his college life to become both a mom and dad to the four of us. Zhara would be really happy instead of trying to fake it all the time. Alexis would be the silly, caring person who loved art and making other people smile. Nikoli would say more than three sentences to me in an entire week. And me, I’d be that dancer who would probably have a huge crush on the sweet, cute guy next door who didn’t honk his horn and yell at me to get into the car.

God, the what ifs. Just thinking about them is too overwhelming.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll go easy on
you
,” Miller rambles, his voice conveying a drop of bitterness. “You’re not on probation, and I’m guessing those rich parents of yours will help out.”

“Rich parents . . . What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. And I’m kinda pissed you never told me you were rich. I would’ve had us steal shit from your house.”

“I’m not rich,” I argue. “Not even close.”

“Could’ve fooled me with that fancy fucking house you live in,” he says snidely. “It’s ridiculous you’ve been living like that the whole time, and we’ve had to hang out at the dump I live in.”

“I don’t live in
that
nice of a house.”

“Whatever. Keep fucking lying to me.”

Not knowing what else to say except for the truth, I seal my lips and refuse to say anything else.

“Who was that guy you were with when I pulled up?” The gears grind as he downshifts.

I scrape at my nail polish. “Just a neighbor.”

His gaze cuts to me. “You sure about that?”

I feel like banging my head against the window. This is a new side of Miller, and I don’t like it at all. I want the numbness back instead of this icky, frustrated feeling festering inside me.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I say quietly.

“Whatever.” He slips on his sunglasses. “I know we aren’t like a super close couple or anything, but I’ve always been really honest with you. You know how shitty my parents are, and you know how messed up my past is. I’ve been really open with you, more than I have with anyone. I thought we were on the same page, but clearly we’re not. Which really sucks, because I like you. I just hate being lied to.”

I want to argue that I’m not a liar, but I’d only be defending a lie with a lie. Everything Miller said is right, except for him implying that something is going on with Luca and me. What’s shocking, though, is how upset he is.