CHAPTER 6
The kids had one last week of school before summer break, but if you asked Ivy, she’d say that the last week was bogus.
“It’s just a bogus week,” she said Monday morning, eyes half-open as I combed her blonde hair back. “We’re not doing anything. Mrs. Hampshire said that it’s just going to be pizzas and parties.”
I hardly had any energy to pull on a neutral voice. “That sounds like fun to me.”
“It sounds bogus. I should just stay home instead.”
Ivy stood patiently still while I combed her hair into a ponytail. She stared at her reflection in the mirror with a little scowl, but that little pout was quickly becoming her resting face. “Quit frowning.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. You’ll get wrinkles.”
“Maybe I want wrinkles.” She met my gaze in the mirror. “I’d look like you.”
I tugged on her ponytail, light enough not to hurt, but hard enough that it bobbed her head back.
Penn stuck her head into the bathroom doorway, a frown of her own cinching her eyebrows together, too. “Have you seen my necktie?”
“On top of the washer.” Sleep last night had been a far-off notion—one that hadn’t really come around until three in the morning.
To keep myself busy and my thoughts off, I’d made sure everyone’s uniforms were ready for the next morning.
Penn’s tie had been in a rumple on the table.
“I ironed it last night so you wouldn’t get marked. ”
“It’s the last week of school,” she muttered without a thanks, ducking out of the bathroom.
“Don’t frown, Penn!” Ivy called after her. “You’ll get wrinkles and then be old like Daisy!”
This time, I yanked her ponytail with a bit more strength. “Go get your shoes on.”
For a Monday, they seemed all pretty decent mood-wise. Even Penn. She was being her normal, grumbly, teenage self, but at least she was out of bed this morning and ninety-five percent dressed. Mom must’ve gotten them into bed early for them to navigate the morning so well-rested.
Thank God. Because my four hours felt like nothing. I was running on fumes.
We all migrated downstairs with no fuss, ending up in the entryway waiting for the bus. “How was your night last night?” I asked them, combing Theo’s hair out of his face with my fingers. The red locks fought to stick straight up. “What did you have for dinner?”
“Mom made us a cardboard pizza,” Ivy said, and I immediately thought of the frozen pizza that’d been sitting in the freezer for at least a month.
I’d gotten it as a snack for a movie night, since it really wasn’t thick enough to be an actual meal, but I hadn’t gotten around to baking it.
“It was good, but Theo didn’t eat very much of it. ”
He crinkled his little nose. “I didn’t like it.”
“They’re not as yummy as the ones from the restaurant,” I told him with a sympathetic nod. “What did she give you instead?”
Theo shrugged his shoulders.
“You didn’t eat the pizza, and she didn’t make you anything else?”
“I made him a peanut butter and jelly,” Penn said, casting her little brother a look. “Stop making it sound like you starved.”
“You used strawberry jelly.” Theo frowned down at his shoes. “I like grape.”
Penn rolled her eyes, then returned to stare stonily through the front door window. I swallowed a sigh, continuing to brush Theo’s hair back. “Sometimes we have to compromise,” I said. “And eat the strawberry jelly even though we like grape the best.”
Like agreeing to fake date your best friend when you really want to take back your ex-boyfriend.
Junie muttered under her breath, “Or, next time, just eat the pizza.”
Theo stopped his foot. The lights in his shoes sparked. “I didn’t like the pizza!”
She whirled to glare at him. “Mom tried hard, and you were acting like a spoiled brat over it.”
I frowned at the sharpness in her voice. “Junie—”
“It wasn’t like she actually cooked us anything,” Penn cut in, not looking back over. “She put a frozen pizza in the oven. Ivy could’ve done that.”
Ivy lifted her chin. “I’m not allowed to touch the stove.”
“I’m just saying. Mom didn’t try hard. She put a pizza in the oven then sat on the couch. Don’t praise her for the bare minimum.” She dropped her voice, but we all still heard it. “She was more like a babysitter.”
Junie suddenly slapped Penn on the arm, the sound echoing in the entryway. “Don’t call her that!”
Penn whirled around, knocking Junie’s hand back. “Don’t hit me!”
“Stop,” I ordered, moving Theo out of the way so I could step between them. “Penelope, Juniper, stop it—”
“Mom’s not a babysitter.” Junie reached around me and slapped Penn again, this time catching her in the chest. “She’s our mom! Daisy is our babysitter, not Mom!”
“Daisy is our sister.” Penn tried to grab Junie’s wrist with one hand, pushing at her shoulder with the other. “And Daisy’s been more of a mom than Mom has!”
I crouched down and got my arms around Junie’s middle when she let out the biggest gasp, as if Penn had personally insulted her and not Mom.
Granted, of course it was wrong for Penn to throw a dig at Mom, but Junie took it as a declaration of war.
She wrenched herself around in my grip, pulling an arm free.
And when she swung her arm back to throw a closed-fist punch, ready to turn a sister argument into a full-on brawl in the entryway, her elbow slammed into my eye socket.
Stars shattered across my vision, and I fell back on my butt, pulling Junie down with me.
Theo yelled that I squished his foot and Ivy screamed as if she was the one who’d taken a bony elbow to the face, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than the pain and keeping a death grip on the temper begging to be released.
Instinctively, I thought about NYU. Think about NYU.
Now, instead of comforting, my useless mantra made me angry.
I don’t want to do this, I wanted to say—to scream.
I wanted to throw my hands up in the air, let them beat each other to a pulp, and be done with it.
I didn’t want to be like their mom—at that moment, with a headache coming on, I didn’t even want to be like their sister. I don’t want to do this anymore.
Junie pulled herself up off me, and I let her, holding my hand over my pulsing eye. In a small voice, she murmured, “Sorry, Daisy.”
I bit down on my tongue, clenching my jaw so tightly I was sure my teeth would shatter. They were kids. They didn’t know any better. They’d been through hell and back. I couldn’t be mad at them. It wasn’t fair.
Except I was, and I hated myself even more for it.
I felt fingers on my forehead, and I opened my one eye to find Theo pushing my hair out of my face the same way I’d done to him moments ago. “Sorry, Daisy,” he echoed.
“The bus is here,” Penn said awkwardly.
The four hours of sleeping caught up to me all at once. I was too tired to even properly lift my head, still cupping a hand over my eye. The same eye the stupid cup had hit last week. I don’t want to do this anymore. “Have a good day.”
I deluded myself into thinking their silence meant they nodded. Penn opened the door, grabbed Theo’s hand, and they began filtering out of the house. Junie was the last one, and after a moment of hesitating on the threshold, she shut the door behind her, leaving me alone.
Life hadn’t always been this chaotic. At nine, Penn used to sleep in my bed more times than not so we could chat until we fell asleep.
Junie, at seven, had been more attached to Mom’s hip, and Ivy, at three, had been more content to play with toys by herself.
Dad had been gone at work a lot, but it was like he’d gotten his second wind when he’d come home, filling the entire house with more life.
And then he died. He’d worked an entire day, had been coming home to the brightness of his family, only for it to be snuffed out ten minutes before he would’ve pulled into the driveway.
Pressure choked my throat, and I dug the heel of my hand into my eyes, sparking the pain further.
It did no good to look at the past, but sometimes I wondered.
If he’d still been here, would I be going to college in the fall?
If he hadn’t died, would I have delved as deep into art as I had?
Would NYU have outright rejected me instead of waitlisting me? Would I have different dreams entirely?
Would I be happier than I was now?
The negativity nipped at me, ready to swallow me whole, but I had no energy to push to my feet and find my sketchbook. Instead, I closed my eyes, giving in to the black abyss.
The front door suddenly swung inward, and I half expected the soft, teary voice of Junie coming back to apologize. But the footfalls were too heavy, and when I blinked my eyes open, I found legs that belonged to someone very tall.
“Daisy?” Jamie asked. “Why are you on the floor?”
I took a step back from the ledge of the abyss. “Checking to see if there’s a draft.”
Jamie ignored my sarcasm and crouched in front of me.
I could smell his bodywash, and when I looked at him, I realized his hair was still partially damp.
The dark roots were drier, but his ends flecked water onto his glasses.
“What’s wrong?” His fingers wrapped around my wrist and he gently pried my hand off my face. “What happened?”
I found myself momentarily caught off guard by the intensity in his gaze, and our level eyes reminded me too much of last night.
I pulled my hand out of Jamie’s, swallowing hard.
“It’s fine.” I winced as I touched my eyebrow, the whole socket aching.
“It’s not a day in the Carmichael house unless someone comes away bruised. Usually me.”
Jamie didn’t laugh, but he did offer a hand to help me up. Mine was small in his, almost swallowed as his fingers curled. “Are you okay?” He looked at me far too seriously for my liking.
I lifted my chin, tossing my hair over my shoulder. And just like that, I buried it all. “I’m fine. Sheesh. You think I’m made of glass or something?”