Chapter Twenty-Five
Ten (and a bit) Years Ago - Evelyn
LAYING DOWN MY weapon of choice, I smile victoriously in the mirror. There’s a lot less clown happening than last time. My cheeks are the perfect amount of rosy, while my eyelids shimmer with every tilt of my head. And my eyelashes? I never realized that I had so many.
All the girls at school have started wearing makeup, even Sandy. She’s always been the nicest to me, so I finally asked her where I should start. Blush, eyeshadow, and mascara were her answer. I whined to Ryder about it, being the only makeup-free girl in the school, and he said I shouldn’t waste my time.
“It’s completely unnecessary.”
“I’m fourteen now, Ryder.”
“And?”
“The other girls wear it.”
“If the other girls had your face, they wouldn’t.”
My heart started racing, I lost all brain function, and the conversation stopped there. But the next morning I woke up to a pink zip-up bag on my nightstand, full of makeup products that not even Sandy knows about. There’s only one person who would’ve gotten it for me, despite everything he said about it.
Feeling mighty proud of myself, I decide it’s a good time to show off my work. Since Ryder hardly knocks when he comes to my room, I offer him the same courtesy (none) as I swing open his bedroom door without warning.
Huh. Not here.
That leaves one other place he could be. Heading downstairs, my stomach tightens as I hear the sound of a sports channel travel from Cyrus’s TV room. There’s never been any good that comes from interacting with him, so like the other kids who have come in and out of this house, I keep my distance. Keeping my steps even and quiet, I make to pass unnoticed.
“Evelyn.” Cyrus lounges in his recliner, looking right at me, rather than the screen. He grabs the remote and mutes the TV. “What’s on your face?”
I swallow. “Makeup.”
“Where did you get it?”
“A friend at school loaned it to me.” I’d never tell Cyrus where it really came from.
The familiar discomfort travels up my neck, leaving an itchy warmth in its wake. My muscles lock up tight, freezing me in place as Cyrus remains quiet, his eyes still on my face. Eventually they drop, but there’s not an ounce of relief as he looks me up and down, something burning behind that beady brown. Nausea tightens its grip on my stomach.
Cyrus has never looked at me this closely. He must know I’m lying.
“Evie?” Ryder’s voice comes from behind me, a hint of hostility concealed underneath concern. “The washing is done. You don’t want it to sit; otherwise, it’ll start to smell.”
There’s no way it’s finished already, I haven’t even started it. Ryder is giving me an escape. “May I be excused?”
Cyrus takes one more lazy look at me. “You may be excused.”
Ryder walks me to the laundry room, and once we’re safely inside, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and slide down the wall. “He knew I was lying, Ryder.”
“No, he didn’t.” Rage drips off his words. “You told that lie like a professional.”
“He had to know.” Wrapping my arms around my knees, I shudder. “He just kept looking at me.”
“Not because you were lying.” Ryder drops his head in hands, distraught in a way I’ve never seen him. Not once. “I need to get you out of this house.”