"JADE" by Rebecca Gustafson

STORY LAST UPDATED ON 09/08/2002

PROLOGUE

Even at night, East Brooklyn wasn't peaceful or quiet; the City that Never Sleeps, isn't that what they call NYC? I can never remember, but sitting upon a wooden deck chair on the top of the apartment building my family lived in, it certainly seemed that way. There were no other apartment buildings taller than ours, so you had a clear view of the neighbourhood; not that it was anything spectacular.
    The tears flowed freely down my cheeks and my vision blurred as I gazed at the gaudy fluorescent lights that directed the way to bars and strip clubs. My chin was tucked to my knees and I felt an urge to rock, but knew that would only bring more pain to my side where my rib was bruised. The rib and a dark, half-crescent around one eye were both courtesy of my father. That night, I wasn't crying because of the pain, however. It was sitting beneath the vast sky with its twinkling, diamond stars and so many other galaxies that filled me with such awe and… longing. So much that I thought I would break to pieces.
    Taking my attention off the hugeness of space, I decided to focus upon something more grounded. My mother worked in one of those strip clubs lining both sides of the streets, and not as a waitress, either. Her "profession" both embarrassed and frightened me. What if some men got too rowdy one night and hurt her? I'd pleaded with her time after time to quit, but she would begin to pout and get that stubborn look that children often have. How like a child my mother was.
    Shouting in the street drew my attention and I followed the angry voices with my ears until my vision pinpointed a man and a woman. At first I thought the woman might be a hooker based on how scantily clad she was and that the man might be her pimp, her john, and all those other quaint little nicknames people have for a man who owns a woman's body. The woman was right in the man's face, yelling accusations and jabbing her finger angrily at his chest. I leaned forward, straining to hear them, but a sharp pain through my ribs was my only reward; they were just too far away.
    Suddenly the woman started to storm away, tripping on her spiked heels and falling pathetically to the sidewalk. She began to cry, her short dress hiking up so far that even from here I could see her underwear. The other people on the streets didn't even glance her way; they were used to those kinds of sights. I was certain the man would just storm away, disgusted at her, but he leaned down and helped her to stand. A protective arm around the woman's shoulders, the man offered her a tissue and helped her to walk, practically carrying her. I watched until they disappeared around the corner, the tears on my cheeks at a stand still and my eyes wide. Had I just seen a true demonstration of love? That awed me even more, especially considering the area we were in. Yeah, right, I chastised myself, within a month the police will be knocking on their door, taking both him and the Louisville Slugger he beat her with. There was no such thing as fairytale romances here, only, appropriately enough, New York Endings.
    The chair I was sitting in was sitting in was painted blue, as was the one opposite it that belonged to my older brother, Jeremy. We had created this area upon the roof, our garden, and even though Jeremy didn't visit it very much anymore, it was still my sanctuary. Even later in my life, when I was an adult and far away from the garden, I never truly left it. When I needed to feel safe, I could go there in my mind and be twelve years old again, hiding from my father and his wrath. That wasn't the only sanctuary the garden provided me with, though. I didn't have to think of what my sisters, Jennifer and Noel, were to eat the next morning and for a short while I could avoid facing the bleakness of our lives.
    It was only me my father hit, thankfully. If he had dared to use his fists upon my mother or any of my siblings, I wouldn't have remained quiet. I would have gone out into the streets and declared for all to hear just exactly how much hell he put all of us through. Not that I really understood why exactly he hated me so much, but I just figured there had to be something about me that set his temper off. I'd tried as hard as possible to fix that thing that was wrong about me, but now I just didn't care. The feeling is mutual, Father, I thought to myself, wiping away my tears and easing myself up from the chair. There was no school the next day, but even in the summer I had to keep busy.
    Maybe someday I would have chance to relax, but at the moment it didn't seem that way. Terror kept you alert; that's the way it works. It didn't seem as though I would ever have a chance to enjoy life. Not now.
    Not ever.

CHAPTER ONE

The pale blue ribbon arched and twisted as I danced with it, becoming one with the silky material and mimicking its movements. Classical music faded as I wound the ribbon down and bowed low as though it was my secret lover. The ribbon was still, which meant I had to come back to the real world, but I desperately wanted the majestic dance we had shared to never stop.
    Rhythmic gymnastics had always been part of my life for as long as I could remember. Our family was on and off of welfare, and social services had come up with this brilliant idea to keep us "off the streets". A list of activities we could do was on a sheet, and while rhythmic gymnastics hadn't originally been on it, my mother had fought tooth and nail to get me accepted to Parksville Gymnastics. Noel and Jennifer were both in ballet and I appreciated the escape it gave me, although none of us would ever possibly earn any money we made. The government owned us, technically; any money earned would always go to them and scholarships were out of the question, considering they were government granted.
    My gymnastics teacher, Miss Claudia, approached, and I was forced to rise. "Where do you go?" she asked with a touch of wonder in her voice. "When you perform you have this… look on your face that's almost as though you aren't even here."
    I knew what she was talking about and the best way I could describe it would be to say that I went to my garden, the only place I felt truly safe. I knew I couldn't tell Miss Claudia that, however; plus Jeremy and I had made a pact long ago, although I was pretty sure he'd already forgotten it. "I go… I just get really involved in the music." I smiled weakly, gazing down at the now still ribbon.
    "Well, whatever it is, I'm very proud of the progress you've made and I think you will be more than ready for the finals." Miss Claudia's hair was pulled back into a French braid, like mine, except hers was the shade of spun gold. She wore a lavender leotard with a grey sweatshirt over top that showed off how fit she still was. "Why don't you do some more work with the clubs and then you can hit the showers."
    During the prime of her regular gymnastics career, Miss Claudia had been America's sweetheart, grazing the covers of numerous magazines after winning various competitions, including the Olympics. I knew Miss Claudia was a skilled gymnast, but I suspected the reason for all the photos of her also had a lot to do with how lovely she was. She had cobalt blue eyes along with her silky, blonde hair and a smile that practically glittered. The trophies and medals Miss Claudia had won were displayed in a case out front for visitors to see, but that was more to prove her skills as a gymnastics teacher, rather than bragging. Her strongest suit had been her floor routine, which is why she'd chosen to teach rhythmic gymnastics, rather than sticking with what she knew. There was even the Olympic silver medal there that I liked to admire, unable to imagine what it could possibly be like to win such a prestigious award.
    "My choice of music?" I asked hopefully. Miss Claudia was a fan of the classics and usually made her students' choices for music, but sometimes she allowed us free reign with her stereo.
    Miss Claudia's lips curved into a smile. "Your choice, but nothing too obnoxious." She went to her office while I selected an upbeat, Latin-style song that I thought appropriate for the fast moving clubs.
    The clubs were my favourite apparatus for gymnastics and looked the most impressive, because when used properly they could achieve amazing heights and the catches some gymnasts used could be quite awe-inspiring. I did a somersault as I threw up the clubs and caught them, one beneath my leg. The clubs were the most fun and I could really get caught up in the excitement they provided.
    I spun the clubs and tried different techniques, marvelling at the rapid pace with which they moved. One of the things that I had perfected and that usually earned me points at competitions was catching the club with my feet. For a while Miss Claudia had enrolled her students in ballet lessons, and from that I had proved quite flexible with my feet and was able to use my toes and to curve my foot so that the club stayed there.
    While I was putting everything I had used away, I noticed Miss Claudia standing watching me out of the corner of her eye. She had the saddest expression on her face and I knew why. I didn't live the life of a normal gymnast and while I had gained a good reputation through competitions, I couldn't practice as much as was normally needed because I had to take care of my sisters among the other chores I was responsible for. I didn't dare to tell her what my real family situation was, either.
    After stripping off my sweat-soaked leotard I turned on the water as hot as I could stand it which would have been semi-warm for most people I knew. At home our hot water tank was often on the fritz or my parents didn't pay the bill, so I had never had a chance to get used to hot showers. The warm spray felt good on my aching muscles and was also necessary because if I had just stepped into the cold air outside, my muscles would have tensed and ached even more.
    I pulled my wet hair back into a slick ponytail and went to catch the bus, my bag slung over my shoulder.
    February was always a harshly cold month in New York, but this one was particularly brutal. Snow blinded me momentarily and my breath was visible as a cloud of vapour. More than once I worried about the bus skidding and hitting something or someone, but I managed to make it back to the apartment.
    As usual, the apartment was empty when I arrived and began to make dinner. Jeremy was off with some of his friends and Noel and Jen were playing at a neighbour's, while my parents worked, fortunately. I never would have come home if my father didn't work late into the evening as a taxi cab driver. I knew it was overly paranoid, but whenever I saw a taxi my heart started to pound a little bit faster which was often since there are cabs constantly driving around the city.
    My mother's name was Selena Jaquelyn Dilangelou, but that wasn't her stage name, of course. Whenever somebody asked me what my mother did, I couldn't help blushing and looked down, muttering that she was a dancer. If they pursued asking me about what kind of dancer she was, I would quickly excuse myself and flee. I just couldn't proudly tell someone that my mother was an exotic dancer.
    In a lot of ways my mother was irresponsible, but she did try to provide for the family. A lot of men were pulled in by my mother's beauty and giddy personality, which is probably why my father fell in love with her. My mother had dark hair that both Noel and I had inherited, but hers and Noels had purplish highlights, while mine was so dark that it was more turquoise. Her eyes were twin sapphires framed by dark lashes that made miniature fans on her alabaster cheeks whenever she closed them. Those eyes lit up like the neon lights lining Broadway whenever she was happy or excited.
    Sometimes when I watched my parents together I couldn't help but feel envious; knowing my father's wrath all too well, I was astonished at the gentle way in which my father treated my mother. My father's name was Kyle Blake Dilangelou, but what's in a name? I wished I could just think of him as just Kyle, but I couldn't; he was my father, the man who'd created me so that I could be the object of his hate. My father and Mom looked stunning side by side. He had ash blond hair that was a few shades lighter than Jeremy's, a mouth that expressed his feelings perfectly; his lips became a grim line whenever he was angry. Grey-blue eyes that could turn as cold as steel were his most captivating feature and often when those hard eyes were turned my way I couldn't turn away from them; it was as though I was caught in their magnetic malevolence.
    While I had my mother's dark hair, I still felt like the unusual one in the family. My parents had blue eyes and so did my siblings, but my eyes were brown. Not that I didn't like my eyes, they were like milk chocolate swirled with cinnamon, but I wished I could have blue eyes, even hazel, so that I could have felt more like I belonged. Jeremy said I reminded him of a China doll or Snow White, because my dark hair contrasted with my skin that was the lightest shade of ivory. Ivory is normally a pretty shade, but whenever I happened to look in the mirror, all I saw was a too pale girl with shadows beneath her eyes. Besides, with a name like Jade I felt that I should have something to match that like even the slightest touch of green.
    My name was a tongue twister, Jade Katarina Honour Dilangelou. I'd once asked my mother why she had named me that and especially why such an unusual second middle name. Her reply was that jade was a beautiful and precious stone and not as fragile and transparent as emeralds. I wasn't sure what emeralds had to do with it, but I was more interested with knowing why she had chosen Honour for my already complicated name. According to my mother, grace, hope and honour were the three most important human virtues, which is why she had given each of her girls such a middle name. Oddly enough, the names were fitting.
    Jennifer Hope and Noel Grace were both enrolled in ballet and while Noel was only five, a pre-ballerina, and Jen was twelve, Noel was starting to show more talent for the art. Jen wasn't dedicated enough and often blew off her lessons, but Noel was always prancing and dancing, a gleam lighting up her cherub face with its small, pert nose. My mother had unexpectedly gone into labour on Christmas Eve and a month premature, Noel, the best Christmas present of all, was born. Despite her early birth she had proved a healthy and vibrant child. Jen was only eleven, but she was already attracting the attention of older boys, much to Jeremy's chagrin, and mine. She had long, blonde hair that tumbled like a cascading waterfall to her waist and wide blue eyes that she could simply flutter and make the coldest heart melt. Widely optimistic in almost any situation, sometimes I found her energy almost exhausting, but perhaps I should have been more like her. She would spend hours brushing out her hair, already exercising her power over the opposite sex, which scared me at such a young age. Whenever I'd try to talk to her about it, Jen would simply laugh and call me pessimistic. Maybe I was.
    I certainly didn't consider myself honourable. Joan of Arc, George Washington, Lincoln; they had honour and were respected. Me? I was just a thirteen-year-old with too much pride and a mother with an imagination.
    Reflecting upon my family, I wondered what the rest of them had to be like. My father's parents from San Francisco came for a visit each summer, but when they did they only took Jennifer and Noel. I didn't mind, since Jen and Noel always came back happier, usually with new clothes and candy of some sort. They didn't care for Jeremy or me; maybe it was because we were older, or maybe that was just for Jeremy and my father had passed on his hate of me to his parents. They should have been proud to have Jeremy as a grandson, though. At seventeen, my brother was already able to make any girls' knees turn to liquid when he smiled or even just looked at them. He had flaxen hair, clear, brilliant eyes like the sky on a perfect day and a devil-may-care grin that always made him look as though he were up to something. Jeremy was always hanging out with friends or playing basketball; he had been on the school team, but wasn't able to make any of the away games and skipped school too much. Mom's parents were the ones who intrigued me the most.
    Whenever the subject of her family would come up, Mom would go silent and turn white. From the few, and rare, moments she'd actually talked about them, I'd gathered that they were quite wealthy, but that something horrible must have happened and she'd run away and never returned. Maybe one day I would go visit them and try to repair the damage that had been done between them and their daughter. Perhaps they would embrace me and spoil me, calling me nicknames like 'Precious' and 'Princess'… Right.
    With my luck they'd slam the door in my face and never open it again for fear I'd still be standing there.

"I know you're in there, Dilangelou. It's almost the end of this month and I still haven't seen your payment for last month!" The landlady of Majestic Manor, an oxymoron if I'd never heard one, banged on the door even louder, making me cringe. Mrs. Delaney wasn't mean at heart, but I couldn't blame her for being upset. My parents rarely if ever paid the rent on time, and we were lucky Mrs. Delaney didn't throw us out.
    Noel was doodling in a colouring book with some crayons; both "borrowed" from school. The art studio didn't lend out supplies and I fully intended to return everything, including the colouring book, even if Noel wouldn't like it. I didn't like taking stuff from the school without permission, but it kept Noel occupied and gave me time to get my homework done. Raven curls surrounded her little, round face as she focused intently on her drawing, which was nothing more than scribbles to me but some fantastic creation to her, I'm sure. She didn't even look up as the knocking continued.
    Sighing, I went to the cookie jar on the top of our fridge where we sometimes kept some emergency money. Surprisingly, there was a fifty and a twenty-dollar bill in there, along with a couple ones. Jeremy must have chipped in a little from his pay check. It wasn't nearly enough to pay the rent, but I only hoped it could appease Mrs. Delaney for now.
    I opened the door a crack and Mrs. Delaney's scowling face greeted me. "You better have some money for me, Jade Dilangelou. I could easily have your family evicted, you know."
    "I know, Mrs. Delaney," I said with another sigh. Quickly I thrust my hand towards her, trying to make it look like there was more than there actually was. "I swear we'll try to get the rest to you... soon," I said as Mrs. Delaney snatched the money from my hand. I wanted to say tomorrow, but that would have most likely been a lie. After I'd closed the door, I waited with held breath, praying she wasn't going to demand any more. There was silence and then retreating footsteps. I exhaled, incredibly relieved.
    Looking around our dingy apartment, I wondered why we fought so hard to keep it. Because it's the cheapest thing you can afford next to a cardboard box, a nasty little voice told me. Begrudgingly, I had to admit that was sort of true; the rent was cheap, but so was the apartment. It was pretty basic; two bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen and a so-called living room.
    My parents occupied one bedroom while I slept in the other room with my brother and sisters. We had bunk beds and Jeremy slept on the top bunk with Noel, while I slept with Jen. A simple dresser that held all our clothing was about our only furniture. I felt sorry for Jeremy having to live with three girls and at times it was awkward, but we tried to make the best of it. Jeremy had painted the room my favourite colour, bright sunshine yellow, trying to cheer both the room and me up, but the paint had dripped in spots and the colour had faded until it was more dreary than happy.
    The kitchen cupboards and counters were imitation mahogany with plenty of chips and scratches to tell their story. The brown contrasted with the pea green stove and fridge so that it made you cringe, but we'd learned to live with it, since redecorating wasn't something we could afford. Ol' Faithful was our toilet that ritually overflowed and that was missing its porcelain cover. There was a secret to preventing a mess, which involved flicking the handle a dozen times and holding up the ball in the toilet, but it didn't always work.
    The bathroom floor tiles were starting to lift and crack, a result of all the times it had been soaked in water. Water stains that were irremovable decorated the walls, and if rust suddenly became a precious material, just the crusty, brown stuff in our bathroom sink would have made us rich, never mind all the other stains in our bathtub and surrounding our pipes.
    Sometimes I hated our apartment, but it was home for all of us and we'd had some good times. Jeremy and I used to pretend the floor was really a swamp filled with alligators and we'd chase each other, climbing over couches and chairs until one of us "fell in". We had to use our imaginations to keep ourselves occupied. We had a television, which only received two channels; none of use ever watched it except for my father who tuned into his sports ritually.
    I wondered what it would be like to live in a gigantic mansion. I closed my eyes and drifted off; imagining a fantasy world filled with grand balls and sophisticated people. There would be servants to do my every bidding, but I wouldn't order them around; I'd befriend them and they'd show me all the secret passages in the palace they looked after. We'd spend hours exploring them together and bring a little sunshine to the lives of my lonely grandparents.
    I'd take bubble baths with rainbow coloured bubbles floating all around and wrap myself in a fluffy yellow robe afterwards. I'd rub sweet smelling lotion on my legs and body, combing my hair at a grand vanity until it shone like black obsidian. Silken pyjamas would caress my skin as I sank beneath the covers, a canopy depicting angels above my head, and I would drift off into a merry sleep without a care in the world.
    Noel's complaints of her being hungry brought me out of my reverie and I chided myself as I went to prepare dinner. Paradise was a myth created by the upper class to disillusion the middle class.
    But damned if it didn't sound good.

CHAPTER TWO

Mornings were busy for me. I had to make sure Noel and Jen were ready for school and that my mother was awake. Mom was the hardest one to wake up. I had to remind her to get up at least several times, with plenty of moaning and protesting on her behalf before she'd even open her eyes. Fortunately, my father was gone to work before I even got up.
    I had perfected the art of the five minute shower since all the hot water was gone by the time I finally got in there. We didn't use conditioner; only shampoo and it took me at least half an hour to get all the tangles out. Every Sunday before school started, we'd heat water on the stove so us kids could take baths before school started.
    For me, school was an escape that I revelled in. Friends had long since evaded me since I was too busy with gymnastics and home, but people occasionally talked to me at school. My favourite teacher was Mr. Baskins, the language arts teacher since he was so vibrant and loud. Each class he always had some goofy tie that made me smile. Today's depicted Bugs Bunny eating a carrot and saying his famous, "What's up, Doc?"
    "Today we're going to delve into the wonderful world of the metaphor," Mr. Baskins announced to the class with a gleam to his beady eyes. According to Mr. Baskins everything was fabulous, wonderful or marvellous. "Be creative and use your imaginations."
    Mr. Baskins explained a little more about the metaphor and then let us work on our own. I was never bored in Mr. Baskins' class; he always made everything fun and exciting. I gazed down at my empty paper, wondering what I could possibly write about. Usually it took me awhile to get into anything, but as soon as I put my pencil to the paper, words just started to flow. I reread my metaphor and decided it was pretty good, although it touched a little too close to home and I knew I couldn't possibly show it to anybody.
    I'd written: My father is a glass tiger. Tread lightly when in the tiger's den; you don't want to disturb him, even if his growl and glare are ten times worse than his bite. Once you cross the tiger's path you can never go back. You're caught up in his black-eyed stare, frozen in place as he moves closer and closer, ready to pounce and kill.
    "That's a very interesting metaphor." I'd been so caught up in my writing that I hadn't heard Mr. Baskins behind me. He was looking over my shoulder, an odd expression on his face. "A little advanced. You've written what is called an extended metaphor."
    I reorganised my papers, wondering how I could explain it to him. "I guess I couldn't just summarise it in one sentence."
    Mr. Baskins studied my face thoughtfully for a moment. "Could I see you after class, Jade?"
    "Alright," I replied after a pause. What if he suspected the truth and wanted to ask me questions? I bit down on my lip, distracted for the rest of the class, preoccupied with thinking of another way to see my metaphor. Other teachers had talked to me before, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words, to say that my father hit me, that he hated me and wished I were dead. My pride would swell up and I'd make up some excuse until the teachers finally dropped it.
    I approached Mr. Baskins desk nervously after class. "You wanted to see me?"
    "Yes." Mr. Baskins face lit up with an excited glow and I narrowed my eyes in confusion. "I liked your metaphor very much. Did you write it yourself?"
    "Yes, of course."
    "I thought you had, but just in case you shared the credit with another person, I thought I'd ask." Mr. Baskins leaned towards me. "I'm teaching the extended metaphor to the class tomorrow, and with your permission I would like to use yours as an example."
    I was flattered, but mostly relieved. "Well, if you think it's good enough to use as an example, I don't mind."
    "Excellent." Mr. Baskins clapped his chubby hands. "Now, since the students will undoubtedly have questions, I just need to know what you meant by it."
    My eyes widened slightly. Had this been some sort of trick to try and get me to confess about my father? Looking at Mr. Baskins' sincere face I knew it hadn't, but now I had to come up with some alternative definition. "Well... my father is a businessman and you know how business people are. They're like hunters looking for the kill, but my father also has that human side to him, the fragile side, like glass." The lies just poured from my tongue like syrup, although they did leave the after taste of guilt. "He's still a really great businessman, though."
    "Really, where does he work?" Mr. Baskins asked with sincere curiosity.
    Quickly I muttered the name of some company that I'd heard of and excused myself, thankful that he hadn't quizzed me endlessly about it. I let myself feel happy because Mr. Baskins wanted to use my metaphor. Maybe once I retired from gymnastics, I would try to write.
    Just in case, the next day I waited with held breath for Mr. Baskins to read my metaphor, letting myself relax when he finally did. I shouldn't have let myself get that personal, however, and decided that I'd have to be cautious from now on. If there was one thing that my father had instilled in me, it was fear; keeping my mouth shut was far wiser and safer.
    My father had never looked at my report card once in all the years since I'd started school, except for a singular incident, which wasn't intentional; believe me. I was standing at the sink, pretending to be focused on washing the supper dishes, but I was really more interested in my father and Jen, whom were seated at the table, going over her report card.
    My father praised her for her good work, which made me roll my eyes since the highest mark Jen had received was a B for Phys. Ed. She had never been dedicated to schoolwork, just as she'd never been dedicated to ballet. The only thing Jen took a supreme interest in was having fun.
    "What would be a fair reward for your hard work?" my father asked Jen, and I almost burst out laughing. A chuckle escaped my mouth, and Jen shot me a hard look; my father just ignored me as usual. "Twenty?"
    That wiped the smirk off my face. Here we were eating macaroni and wieners among other gourmet dishes, and my father was going to waste twenty dollars on Jen, who would just blow it on make-up or candy. I suspected he was purposefully trying to disturb me, but shoved the thought away, telling myself that in his eyes I was non-existent.
    "I'm pretty sure that pot is clean, Jade." I startled as Jeremy spoke beside my ear. "Unless you were planning on using it as some sort of mirror."
    "Jeremy!" my father called gruffly. "Where's your report card?"
    Jeremy let out a groan that was only audible to me. "I'll get it right now." He made a face just for me, and I laughed. Jeremy disappeared into our room and returned in a moment, giving me a sly wink as he handed the report card over. I gave him a confused look, but he just kept that sly grin on his face.
    I watched my father's face inconspicuously trying to figure out what Jeremy was up to, but my father seemed pleased. "This is... amazing. All A's, I'm very impressed, son. You deserve a large reward. Fifty?"
    My gaze flicked instantly to Jeremy. I knew for a fact that he had barely passed the majority of his courses. "All A's?" Jeremy asked, feigning confusion. He peered over our father's shoulder. "No wonder. I must have grabbed the wrong report card, that's Jade's. My mistake." I shot Jeremy an angry look before once again turning my back to my father fearfully. "I'd gladly accept the cash, but if you feel that Jade deserves it, then I guess you should give it to her."
    There was only silence for a moment; everything was so still that a pin dropping would have probably startled us all. Even Jen looked wary; knowing Jeremy had broken a major taboo. "Can I have my money, please?" she finally asked, thankfully breaking the silence.
    "Oh, yes, of course." I heard the sounds of my father taking out his wallet, and I couldn't help wondering what he would do about my report card that he had praised so highly just a moment ago. He didn't give me the money of course, but his words of praise stuck in my mind.
    Jeremy had gotten away with not having our father look at his report card and made a hasty escape when his best friend, Ethan Sandberg, knocked on the door. I apprehended Jeremy in the hallway, smiling apologetically to Ethan as I pulled Jeremy aside. "How could you do that?" I hissed.
    "I couldn't show Dad my report card. You saw it and it's not good." Jeremy shrugged. "Besides, I thought you might want to see what he thought of your school work."
    "Now he's going to hate me even more," I moaned.
    "How could he possibly?"
    I was quiet for a moment, reflecting upon the numerous times my father had hit me for no good reason. "Trust me, he'll find some way."
    Jeremy ruffled my hair fondly. "Don't worry about it, kid."
    "I'm thirteen, thank you very much," I said, pretending to be cross.
    "You'll always be a kid to me... kid." Jeremy grinned and went to help Ethan take some camping gear down to his Jeep. They went away on camping trips some time with other friends of theirs; sometimes missing school while having fun.
    For as long as I can remember, Ethan had been just my brother's best friend to me and I was just Jeremy's kid sister to him. Lately, I'd started to notice him more for how good-looking he had become, but I knew that he still regarded me the same way he had for years. He had deep, forest-green eyes that were tranquil and dark all at the same, and sandy brown hair that constantly fell in his eyes, no matter how many times he brushed it back.
    "Why don't you have your sister give us a hand." Ethan nodded at me. One thing about Ethan was his quiet way; you never knew exactly what he was thinking.
    "Jade? She's got dishes to admire herself in," Jeremy retorted.
    "I'll help," I offered, glad for the chance to escape the apartment, even if it was for a brief moment. From the pile of camping gear, I selected the folded up tent to take down. It was heavy, but I managed. All the gear was Ethan's, but they kept it here because we had a storage room and Ethan didn't have enough space at home.
    "Sure you got that?" Ethan asked. He wasn't insinuating that I was too weak to carry it, but getting a good grip on the tent was awkward, and I almost dropped it several times.
    I made it to the Jeep just in time, before it slipped an eighth time. "Thanks, but I made it. Where are you guys going this time?"
    Ethan shrugged. "Not sure," he said as we returned to carry some more stuff down. "I hear Central Park is nice around this time of year. What do you think?"
    Pretending to consider, I nodded my head. "I've heard that too. If you do any hunting, bring me back a squirrel."
    "That just doesn't seem right," Ethan said with a serious face. "I'll bring you two."
    With all the gear packed into the red Jeep, I smiled at him over the roof. Jeremy looked back and forth between us, seeming somewhat perturbed. "We'd better go," he said to Ethan.
    "Sure." Ethan slid into the driver's seat, but he undid Jeremy's window, leaning out towards me. "Maybe I'll even throw in a couple ground hogs to sweeten the deal."
    "What deal?"
    Ethan paused then said slyly, "Oh, I think you know the arrangement we had."
    With an amused curve to my lips, I replied, "We'll work that out when you get back." I blew a kiss as Jeremy did up the window quickly
    Normally I wasn't bold with people, but Ethan and I had always teased each other, and for the first time in my life, not even my father's disapproving glare could make ruin my good spirits. After finishing the dishes, I tried to focus on homework, but found myself wondering if Ethan would think of me when he was camping. It was stupid to think there could be something more there than there actually was, but I fell asleep that night, dreaming of deep green eyes with a playful gleam to them.

CHAPTER THREE

With his friends, Jeremy usually treated me differently, but I didn't mind and was thrilled when he invited me to play basketball with them one night. A group of people gathered at the high school, those with vehicles providing the light for the players to see. It was fun and I knew Ethan would be there. I couldn't help noticing Jeremy didn't seem too thrilled by the invite.
    "You don't sound like you really want me to go," I said hurtfully.
    "It's not that I don't want you to go but..."
    "What?" I pressed.
    "Ethan is the one that asked me to invite you," Jeremy muttered. When I started to look excited, Jeremy added hastily, "I don't know what either of you are thinking, but I don't like it and you'd better stop making those... eyes at him."
    "What eyes?" I asked with a laugh.
    "That innocent, 'oh my gosh, you're so funny' look you give him. I don't like it."
    "We're just teasing each other, Jeremy. Nothing's going to happen."
    "Right," he muttered.
    Despite what Jeremy had said, Ethan seemed very aloof and distant when we were playing. He didn't even say 'hi' or anything, and I had to admit I was a little bit hurt, but shrugged the feeling off, delving into the game. I was the only girl playing, but Jeremy's friends knew I could keep up and treated me no differently. Nobody kept score and there were no official breaks between games; if you wanted to get some water or something, you had to get somebody to fill in for you. There was only one official rule: if you couldn't keep up, you didn't play.
    Playing basketball with Jeremy and his friends was almost as much of a workout as in gymnastics. With my hair tied back in a ponytail and sweat soaking the t-shirt and sweatpants I wore, I almost forgot I wasn't just one of the guys. It was the middle of March, but once you started playing, the cold was the last thing on your mind.
    The team I'd been picked for moved in synch, passing to those who were open or going for it if they felt they had a chance; there were no favourites and ball hogs were quickly kicked out. Palmer passed me the ball and I easily dribbled past Hodgkins, slipping around him and reaching up to tip the ball into the basket. Deciding I needed a break, I exited the court and somebody slipped in to fill my space. A few people patted me on the back as I headed for Palmer's aging, rusty car. Sitting in the passenger seat, I leaned my head back against the seat, closing my eyes and catching my breath.
    "You want some water?" I opened my eyes to see Ethan standing there, offering me a drink from his water bottle.
    "Sure." I quenched my thirst and handed the bottle back to him, studying his handsome profile as he watched the other players. His hair was dishevelled and damp, yet somehow messiness became him. A silence passed between us before he spoke again.
    "I have something for you," Ethan finally said.
    "Oh?"
    From his pocket, Ethan removed a folded piece of paper and handed it to me. I unfolded it and looked up at him curiously; it was a picture of two squirrels. They were well-drawn squirrels, almost as if they'd leap off the page, their bushy little tails tickling your face as they did so, but I was confused for a moment. "I don't understand…"
    Ethan smiled down at me. "I brought you back two squirrels."
    Remembering our previous conversation from the night they'd left for camping, I started to laugh. "Where're my gophers? You know, the thing to sweeten the deal?" I asked teasingly.
    Studying the picture again, I said, "I didn't know you drew so we-" I didn't get to finish because Ethan ducked beneath the car doorframe and kissed me. I was startled at first, but responded, my heart fluttering within my chest like a caged bird. Somebody called for Ethan to return to the game and he reluctantly withdrew, giving me one last kiss before somebody tossed him the ball.
    Ethan drove both me and Jeremy home, and our eyes kept meeting in the rear view mirror, but Jeremy took the front seat and I didn't think he'd be too pleased if he knew what had gone on between Ethan and me. What had gone on between Ethan and I? Did this officially make us a couple or was it just something spontaneous he had done? The thought that maybe he just wanted to see what it would be like to kiss me put a little damper on my elated mood, but I still floated upstairs; without Jeremy since he decided to stay out later.
    Noel and Jen were playing at friends' places, which left me alone with my father. After checking the bedroom and seeing that my sisters weren't there, I instantly felt uneasy knowing only my father was there. I'd glimpsed him out of the corner of my eye sitting in the living room reading a paper as I'd entered, but he didn't look up and ignored me as usual, until I returned from the bedroom.
    "Where have you been?" I heard my father ask in a gruff voice.
    My body froze along with my tongue. For a moment words would not come and when they did my voice was hoarse and whispery. "Playing basketball..." I couldn't look at him and my heart was thudding so fast because any other time my father had spoke to me, it had ended up with him hitting me. No matter what I said, he always found something wrong with my reply. "Jeremy-" My voice cracked. "Jeremy asked me to play."
    Setting his paper down, my father cleared his throat, and I cringed. "What about your sisters?"
    "I - I thought they'd be okay playing."
    With an impressive quickness, my father rose from his chair and crossed the living room to grab my hair roughly, jerking my head back painfully so that I was forced to look into his handsome face that was contorted in anger. "Did you make them supper?"
    "They usually eat at Judy's..." I managed.
    Releasing my hair, my father backhanded me so that I hit the wall, my face stinging. As I sank to the floor in a pathetic heap, I wished that the floor would just open up and let me disappear. I glared at him through the hair that had fallen to cover my face. Mixed feelings of anger and fear washed over me, as he pulled me up from the floor, and shook me so hard that my teeth felt jarred out of place. "Where were you really?"
    "I was with Jeremy - I swear!" I practically screamed in desperation.
    "Probably off with some boyfriend of yours like the little slut you are!" He punched me in the stomach and I involuntarily doubled over, desperately fighting back the tears that wanted to spill forth. I would never let myself cry in front of him; no matter what, I couldn't show my father that sort of weakness. "Tell me the truth!"
    Gasping for air, I couldn't have told him anything. All I could do was wheeze and inhale sharply as he turned away from me, making a disgusted sound. "Go to your room." He returned to his chair, and in a moment of defiance, I stood there just glaring at him before walking off to my room. Furiously, I rocked on my bed, knees to my chest and chin to my knees. Even without my father around, I fought back tears, telling myself that he might hear or come in any moment, maybe not liking the way I'd closed my door or the way I'd brushed my teeth. God only knew what set him off!
    Thankfully, I heard the front door close not soon after, and I immediately raced for the solace of the roof. Only then did I let the tears spill forth, wondering how my mother could possibly love such a horrible man.
    Once upon a time my mother had been a lovely prima ballerina, touring throughout Europe among other exotic places. I'd seen the programs of the shows in which Mom had appeared when she was only very young. I knew that she had run away from home when she'd only been sixteen, but by that time she was already very accomplished. My favourite program was for "Swan Lake" that featured Mom as the beautiful Oddette, a romantic glint in her eyes as she'd danced a pas de deux with her soul mate, Sigfried. When she'd moved to New York with my father, she'd been forced to give up the ballet and was currently occupied in her current profession.
    It was never made clear to me as to how my mother and father had met, but I did know that it was the classic princess and the pauper tale. If only my father didn't hate me so. There were so many "if only"s in my life. If only I had a loving family. If only I could prove to my father I wasn't worthless and cheap like he'd screamed at me so many times. Tears froze on my cheeks; miniature drops of crystal hardened and cold like my father's heart and eyes.
    My father is like a glass tiger, indeed.

Ethan arrived to pick me up the next morning, and Jeremy wasn't too pleased. Grabbing his jacket, Jeremy had started out the door, but Ethan hung back as I busied myself in getting my sisters ready. "What are you waiting for?" Jeremy asked impatiently.
    "Jade," Ethan replied simply.
    "What?" Jeremy and I both said in unison.
    "I thought you might like a ride," Ethan said to me.
    Juggling Noel and one of her shoes in my hand, I attempted to slip it on, but she was squirming and wriggling like a worm. "Stop it, Noel," I commanded, and she was still long enough for me to get her shoe on. "I'd love a ride," I responded to Ethan's query. "But we'd have to take my sisters with us, I'm afraid." I usually walked with my sisters to their school before hurrying to my own.
    "No problem," Ethan said with a shrug.
    Behind him, Jeremy groaned. "Let's just go, you don't want to take my sisters."
    "Yeah." Ethan smiled at me with that casual grin that set my heart racing and the blood rushing to my cheeks. "I do."
    Every morning after that, Ethan drove my sisters and me to school, and eventually Jeremy got used to it; even if he didn't like the idea. In school, Ethan met me at every lunch hour and we'd talk about anything and everything. He'd always seemed kind of distant, and a small smile seemed to be his laugh, but he came alive whenever we talked, and I tried to make him laugh as often as possible. I loved his smile and his green eyes that were so intense and thoughtful.
    The other girls in our school who'd had their eyes set on making Ethan theirs weren't too thrilled about all the time he spent with me, and I found myself being glared at a lot. Still, I didn't mind at all as long as Ethan was there to make my heart thump wildly and to make me laugh. "You laugh so rarely, Jade," he told me one day. "Why is that?"
    "I guess I've never really had anything that I found funny. Except you," I added hastily.
    "You think I'm funny?" Ethan asked with an amused grin. Snow had started to melt and we were outside after school on an unusually sunny day. I was lying on the grass with my hands behind my head, gazing up at the sky, while Ethan lay on his side, looking down at me. He plucked a blade of grass and tickled my nose with it. I laughed and tried to get away, but he wouldn't let me. "I like it when you laugh, and I hereby declare that I shall make you do so as much as possible from here on out." He studied my face for a moment, his eyes drinking me in and said, "I shall seal this proclamation with a kiss."
    The kiss we shared was ten times sweeter than nectar, but left me feeling slightly confused. Did this mean we were together now, as a couple? I had to give a voice to my question. "Ethan?"
    "Yeah?"
    "Are we... you know... going out now?" I asked, looking to his eyes to see if he was shocked by my query.
    "I thought we were all along - unless you had somebody else in mind," Ethan added hastily.
    "There's no one else in the world I would rather go out with than you," I declared happily.
    "Let's seal that with a kiss, too, before you change your mind." We did so, and my heart did flip flops, knowing I had a boyfriend who genuinely liked me. I thought nothing would be able to chase away the happiness that hung over me like golden rays of sunshine. I was wrong.

CHAPTER FOUR

Now I only had to wait for the score. Sitting with my teammates, we were all silently praying, but me the most since it had been my routine that would decide whether we won first, second or third. Finally the scores were announced over the loud speaker.
    "The scores for Jade Dilangelou are 9.8, 9.9, 9.9..." I barely heard the rest as my team mates all shrieked loudly and hugged me tightly. We had won first place! We would be representing New York State next year! I wasn't worthless after all...
    Even though we had won the competition during the summer, Miss Claudia was even harder on us now. She picked apart everything we'd done and made us practice every single move over and over. Even my unique catch with the clubs hadn't been performed well enough to escape her criticism. That wasn't the worst part, though.
    Lately any jumps or leaps I did made my chest hurt and I knew why. I had been developing for quite awhile now and had simply chosen to ignore it, up until lately; my mother hadn't been much help when I'd approached her about it and I didn't have the money to go to a department store myself. With the skin-tight leotard I wore during practice, I'd become horribly aware of just how much I'd grown and had started wearing a sweatshirt over top, but that didn't help the pain any.
    One day after practice, Miss Claudia called me into her office. "How old are you now, Jade?"
    "Fourteen."
    "I couldn't help noticing how you seem to be trying to protect your..." She gestured towards her own chest. "Don't you have any support... I mean, you are fourteen now and you'd think you should be wearing some."
    My cheeks blushed a flaming red and I didn't know what to say. "Well, I... no, I don't have any," I admitted. "It's not so bad, really."
    "Not so bad?" Miss Claudia repeated incredulously. "If you're going to continue with your gymnastics career, Jade, then you're going to have to wear one sooner or later. Surely your mother has noticed how much your body has changed."
    "No… She isn't home very much," I added hastily.
    "And your father?"
    My eyes widened in obvious surprise. "He's not home much either." What an interesting scene that would make, though.
    "Well, I'll just have to take you down to a store myself." She reached for the telephone. "You can pay me back later."
    Quickly, I placed my hand over hers before she could lift the receiver. "I wouldn't be able to pay you back," I said solemnly.
    Her blue eyes widened a little as she studied me, and then a sort of conviction crossed her face. "Take care of the equipment for the next month and we'll call it even." She was on the phone, calling some lady she knew at a department store, and I just felt so grateful, but could I really let her do this for me? I had to and I vowed to take the best care of the equipment from here on out.
    I came home that day with several new bras, four sports bras for gymnastics and three for just everyday wear. Miss Claudia never mentioned it again and I took care of the gymnastics equipment from then on. Sweatshirts also no longer appeared over top of my leotard.
    The sounds of the city always kept me awake for a while at night, along with my own troubled thoughts. A car alarm sounded outside; followed by angry shouts of the people it had disturbed. Don't worry, I thought, tenderly caressing my cheek where there was a fresh bruise, some of us are grateful. The alarm had blessedly chased away the darkness clouding my mind.
    I was grateful when a sleepiness came over me, that sort of cob-webbed feeling you get when you're about to drift off. My eyes closed, but snapped open just as quickly when I heard the sounds of somebody bumping into furniture out in the living room. Extracting myself gently from beneath Jen's arm that she'd flung over me in sleep, I quietly crept out into the hall. There was only darkness until my eyes began to adjust.
    "Mom?" I said hesitantly, reaching to turn on a lamp.
    "Don't" was the hissed reply, as my hand was quickly slapped away. My eyes had become accustomed to the dark well enough so that I could see the familiar outline of my mother. "You don't need to see me like this..." Her words were slightly slurred like she'd been drinking.
    "What's wrong?" I asked, alarmed. There was only silence and then a forlorn sigh before my mother turned on the lamp. A slight gasp escaped my lips when I saw the state she was in. The sleeve of her short violet dress was ripped, and she carried both heels of her white pumps in her hand, one of them broken. Dark bruises adorned her normally lovely face; obscuring it and making it look swollen and puffy. A piece of tissue paper was clutched in her hand, dabbed with bits of blood. "What happened?" I asked furiously, my thoughts first turning to my father.
    Waving her hand dismissively, my mother collapsed on the couch. "Get me some ice would you please, darling?"
    Feeling completely awake, I rushed to help Mom in any way I could. First I gave her a warm face cloth to clean herself up a bit, then an ice pack to soothe her bruised face. She let out a pleasurable sigh as the coolness made contact. I brought her a warm flannel shirt of my father's; she usually just came home and collapsed in bed wearing whatever she had on, but I couldn't let her do that tonight. Risking my father's wrath, I'd snuck into their bedroom, collecting the shirt, some cooling cream and a pair of slippers.
    Mom looked so tiny with the huge flannel shirt on and a pair of elf-like slippers on. "Thank you, darling." Pulling a blanket to cover her from the waist down, Mom patted her lap, and I lay down on the couch, my head resting there. She softly stroked my hair like when I was a little girl and I wanted to cry, reminded of my lost childhood and everything else lost. Softly humming about a fictional sea of love, Mom and I were quiet for a long while, lost in the comfortableness of the situation.
    "Jade," my mother said, shattering the near flawlessness of that moment. "I want you to promise me something."
    "What?" I asked with open curiosity.
    "Promise me," she paused as though forgetting her thoughts, "I want you to promise me that you will always listen to your mind, never your heart." What an odd thing to promise, I thought, but she had more to say. "When it comes to certain decisions, the heart is like a man, a fool." The bitterness and harshness in my mother's voice both surprised and amazed me. "Will you promise me that, my darling?" she asked, her tone soothing and loving.
    Stunned by how easily my mother could go from anger to a voice as cajoling as a nymph's, I wasn't sure what to say. "If... if I do promise you this," I sat up, looking her in the eye solemnly, "then you have to swear to me that you will get out of whatever got you into this trouble." I touched my hand to her cheek to make my point and she looked down for a moment.
    "You drive a hard bargain," Mom finally said. "But I suppose that's what makes you my daughter. I promise." She smiled and stretched before standing up. "Goodnight, my Jady bird and remember that I will always love you, no matter what." I felt even more nostalgic when she used my childhood nickname; a modified version of ladybird. For a moment Mom looked sad, and I began to wonder why she felt she had to tell me she loved me now. Turning, she started towards her bedroom, pausing, hesitantly, before opening the door and turning back to me. "Did he... did he hurt you real bad?"
    "Whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger," I quoted, deciding that would be my answer to her query. She'd had enough trouble for one night. "It's okay, Mom, I'm tough." I added, "That's what makes me your daughter."
    Smiling again, but a little weaker, Mom said, "Right... And how lucky I am to have such a beautiful and strong daughter." She entered her bedroom and I pulled myself up off the couch, suddenly feel physically and emotionally exhausted.
    As I lay back down with Jen beside me, I decided that I didn't much like that saying. 'Whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger'. No, it just makes you more cautious and more afraid...

CHAPTER FIVE

Despite my mother's promise to me, there were several more occasions where I spotted a hastily covered up bruise. I didn't say anything, knowing my disappointed frowns would make her feel just as bad as any chiding words. Thinking that it might possibly be my father that was hurting her, I watched him with her closely, but nothing had changed, and I knew my father's fists were reserved solely for myself. How lucky. I almost wished it were my father, because then I would be able to come up with some sort of plan or help, no matter what the consequences. Not knowing gave me an anxious feeling deep in the pit of my stomach.
    Christmas arrived in New York with a flurry of busy shoppers, bright lights and joyous singing. 'Joy to the World'; Scrooge had the better idea with 'Bah Humbug'. That was usually my attitude towards 'the happiest time of the year' and would have been that year, too, if it weren't for Ethan. We couldn't afford a tree; not that Mrs. Delaney would have appreciated pine needles littered all throughout the hallways anyway. Presents were things made in school or some new necessities like toothbrushes and deodorant from our parents. Little things that always made Christmas somewhat bittersweet for me.
    "The girls", as my mother deemed them, at the club where she worked chipped in and bought me some facial products like moisturiser and a scrub one year, knowing how dry my skin became in the winter. Taking care of fair skin wasn't the easiest, and I cherished the supply of creams I had, using it sparingly. Another year Jeremy had given me his warmest sweater for the cold nights. I had grown into it, although originally the sweater had hung down to my knees, and I still wore it, even though it was now faded and a little tattered. That year I'd stripped apart one of my old gymnastics ribbons and made colourful hair ribbons for Noel and Jen. Mom was getting the story that I'd gotten an A+ on in Language Arts, but I'd made it more like a novel with a cover page (Ethan had helped me with the illustrations) and even an 'About the Author' section. And for Jeremy I'd saved up and purchased a copy of his favourite Shakespeare play, The Merchant of Venice from a second hand bookstore. He could check it out of the library any time, but I knew it would mean a lot to him having his very own copy to write notes in instead of on another sheet of paper.
    As for Ethan's present, I'd painstakingly thought that out until there were almost too many ideas in my head. I knew I couldn't really buy him anything that I wanted, but I still wanted it to be something special. He'd made Christmas something memorable for me that year and I wanted to repay him. We watched the tree lighting ceremony together in Times Square, even though we'd both seen it so many times. Ethan borrowed some of his sister's old skates and for the first time in my life, I went skating. We went to Rockefeller Centre, and fortunately Ethan was a patient teacher; I fell so many times, but being with him was more than worth a behind that was sore for a month.
    Everything at home was usual, however. In our apartment building there were always more cold nights than warm; blankets weren't just a comfort, but a necessity to prevent pneumonia. The chattering of teeth usually kept me awake those long nights and I actually longed for school so that I could partake in some warmth. Jeremy and I always tried to make Christmas special for Noel and Jen, especially since it was also Noel's birthday. Our downstairs neighbour, Mrs. Kauley, gave us some glittery gold garland, which we'd strung along the side of our bunk, along with some green and red streamers, again courtesy of the art room. Our other decorations were a one-winged angel (Noel had accidentally ripped the other off trying to get it home) that was perched upon our dresser with green hair and a perpetual grimace, a fake poinsettia plant that somebody had actually been about to throw away and a Santa teddy that had been from the hospital where Noel was born. It wasn't much, but it was Christmas.
    There were also the little tales I weaved with magic words to keep the Santa myth alive, for Noel, anyway; Jen had stopped believing when she was seven, and I couldn't blame her. Santa was supposed to leave behind this large pile of presents, not a few knick-knacks. A few nights before Christmas, Noel had come into our room while I was lighting a white candle, just as I'd planned. The candle was from our large stash for when the power frequently went out, but I'd decorated it with shimmy glittery so that the moonlight cast green and red streaks across our window. "What are you doing?" she'd asked, tilting her head to the side with child-like curiosity.
    Placing the candle in the window, I fought hard against a smile before turning to face my little sister. "Don't you want Santa to come?" I replied, pretending to be incredulous.
    Nodding emphatically, Noel crawled into my lap, anticipating a story. I cuddled my darling sister to me, inhaling the sweet scent of baby powder and candy that lingered upon her. Wide blue eyes gazed up into my face as I began to weave a web of dreams solely for her. "You see, Santa lives all the way in the North Pole - as you already know," I added hastily, when she opened her mouth to tell me she already knew that. "What you don't know is that Santa is already on his way here, even days before Christmas. Handing out all those presents takes awhile and you have to imagine that it's a pretty big job, and sometimes Santa might accidentally forgot some little boy or girl, but if you burn a candle for him, the light will help guide Santa here so that on Christmas you'll have presents galore."
    Taking her gaze off me, Noel looked to the burning candle in wide-eyed fascination. Some of the glitter had settled around the base of the dull, sterling silver candleholder that had been a gift from my father's parents. More glitter drifted down as the candle burned, like confetti, and while I thought the effect was pretty neat, I imagine Noel thought it was purely magical. "Can I light it the next time?" she asked, her voice a bare whisper, as though she were afraid to disturb the moment.
    "Sure." I kissed her smooth, rosy cheek and Noel wrapped her tiny arms about my neck. She let out a contented, gentle sigh before falling asleep. I didn't drift off quite as quickly as she did, wishing that I could give her everything her little heart desired. The cold, hard truth was that I couldn't, but someday perhaps. Someday she would wear dresses of lace and velvet; someday she would play with dolls with spun gold hair and violet eyes surrounded by lengthy, surreal lashes; someday she would be the envy of all her other friends. Someday.
    Just before her childhood ended, I hoped.
    For Christmas, Ethan had given me an elegant silver charm bracelet that I was almost afraid to wear for fear of breaking it. "This represents everything I love about you and some of our firsts," he'd told me, as we'd exchanged presents in his car on Christmas Day outside the apartment. There was a miniature gymnast in mid back flip, a figure skate representing our trip to Rockefeller Centre, and a silver heart. "I also have this for you." He'd presented me with a blue velvet box, and I gasped when I saw a miniature golden rose so intricate that you could distinguish every line in every petal. I'd only ever told him once that I adored yellow roses and marvelled at how wonderful he was to have remembered.
    I wasn't sure how many times I'd said "thank you" and how many kisses I'd rained down upon his lips, but I knew it was a lot. I couldn't help feeling so grateful for having such a wonderful boyfriend in my life. Ethan helped me attach the rose to my bracelet, promising that there would be plenty more charms to add. Admiring the way the moonlight had made the bracelet sparkle, I was ashamed of my gift and wished that I could give him something better. "Here," I said, forcing myself to hand him the gift that was wrapped in a brown paper bag. "It isn't much at all."
    Watching with held breath as Ethan unwrapped the present, I was suddenly certain that he would hate it, and wanted to snatch it back just as quickly as I'd given it to him. For hours I'd painstakingly thought over what Ethan was to me and decided to put my thoughts into words on paper. After what seemed like a million rough copies later, I'd finally held a poem in my hands that would have made Mr. Baskins proud, and probably blush as well. Was it a good Christmas present, though? I could only hope so. The title was "Flaming Fire of My Desire" and while I was no artist, I'd done the letters to resemble burning flames.

You surround me like the infinity of darkness.
Burning. Dancing. Silvery, black flames of death.
Everywhere. There is no escape, no solace.
Should I surrender, surrender myself to you?
My fear forgotten, I stop my retreat. I am still.
Golden, fierce passion burns in your eyes.
Desires are aroused; innocence is lost.
Hand held out to the heat; I touch the captivating flame.
Yet am somehow not burned. You won't.
You would never hurt me; you love me too much.
With outstretched, yet hesitant arms, I reach for you.
Encompassed and embraced, we come together.
My hair is turned to flaming copper; my skin glows.
I feel no pain; your love numbs any hurt I feel.
And finally, after what seems an eternity; at last
We are one.

    I watched Ethan's face intently as he read, wondering if he would find the poem too intimate. At last he looked at me. "This is... wow!" Despite his flattering words, there was still something trepidatious in his eyes.
    "What's wrong?" I pressed.
    Ethan looked at the poem once again. "Well, nobody has ever given me anything like this, but...You don't really think I'm like death, do you?"
    I couldn't help it; I had to laugh. "I was just being metaphorical. Showing how powerful the fire, you, were. You do like it, though?"
    Leaning over, Ethan kissed me. "This is the best thing I've ever read, and I don't normally like poetry so you had a sceptic on your hands here." He winked and I kissed him back. "You never told me you wrote so well."
    "You never told me you drew so well," I countered. He had shown me a few of his drawings and while I was no art expert, I knew what I liked. "You're truly talented."
    "Yeah, but I can't do a back-handspring," Ethan teased. "You're somewhat of a Renaissance woman. Multi-talented." If that were true, shouldn't my father have appreciated at least one of my talents? In his eyes, my only skill was making him furious. Being in Ethan's arms, I felt happier, but even he couldn't chase away my fear.

My father's gift to me came long after Christmas, but added yet another piece to the complex puzzle that was my family. Winter dragged on, and even a single yellow rose delivered to my classroom on Valentine's Day from Ethan couldn't chase away my restlessness. Reflecting upon everything, I realise that it was my fault; I'd dropped my guard and had become careless. Sometimes I went out with Ethan instead of completing my chores; out of the desire for a little fun or maybe because I knew it irked my father, I couldn't be sure of which. As long as I could avoid being alone with him then I knew he wouldn't say anything.
    Was I proud of myself? Not really. I still got my chores done, just not as promptly or neatly as before. I'd hum or sing to myself as I swept or folded laundry, completely lost in the daydream land that I'd created as an escape. To see my father's eyes narrow still scared me, but also gave me a certain satisfactory thrill. A little nagging voice at the back of my mind told me that I should be more wary and less childish, but I didn't listen. I should have.
    One evening early into March the inevitable happened, along with so much more. I knew that I was going to be home alone with my father; Mom had work as usual and Jeremy had gone out with friends immediately after school. Both Jen and Noel had been invited over to Judy's and even promises of ice cream and candy couldn't persuade them to stay. So many ways of getting out of this were going through my head as I prepared supper, but deep down I knew there was no escape.
    I dawdled in preparing that evening's meal and setting the table, wanting to delay things for as long as possible. Dismayed at how quickly Jen and Noel ate their food, I must have reminded them a dozen times to slow down. My father just ate his food calmly, as though he had all the time in the world. Noel grew anxious as I washed her face and hands after supper. "Hurry," she said impatiently, bouncing slightly. I took both Jen and Noel over to Judy's, making small talk for as long as was possible without drawing suspicion. And then I was standing alone in the hallway, apartment 213 beckoning me with a cajoling claw.
    For a moment as I hesitated, torn, I thought about fleeing. Ethan could come and get me; I could just run away and never look back. I knew I couldn't, but, oh, how tempting the thought was. Who knew what my father would do to my siblings if I were to leave. The thought of him hurting Jeremy, Jen or Noel filled me with pain and I knew that I could never leave. With my head held high, I started back towards the apartment like an honourable soldier marching to his doom.
    He came into the kitchen as I was washing the dishes.
    I'd been watching the kitchen entryway, anticipating as I stood at the sink, but quickly looked down when my father entered, my every muscle tense, yet trembling. He didn't do anything that I'd come to expect. Like the time I'd been in the bathroom, my father just watched me. I could feel his eyes upon me, studying every move I made intently. I felt the urge to blush beneath his burning gaze, but he wasn't looking at me... that way. He couldn't be.
    "Do you enjoy making me angry?" my father finally asked, his voice somehow level and malevolent at the same time. "Is that it?" Any answer I gave damned me anyway, so I didn't speak, standing completely still. So still that I thought even my heart had stopped beating. Each of his words had the same effect as a hammer striking me. And then, much to my horror, words left my lips.
    "Why not take a little enjoyment out of that which is inevitable?" It wasn't as though I hadn't even thought what I'd said; in fact, the words had been burning at the edge of my lips. I was just numbly surprised that I'd actually spoken them aloud. My father was even more surprised.
    "What did you say?" he demanded and a cold chill washed over me. "I think you'd better take that back."
    "Would it do any good?" I replied evenly, looking at him. "Tell me now, because if it would, I'll take it all back." We both knew it was too late for that. My father looked so handsome that it caused a dull ache deep within my chest. That was the kind of face that should be filled with love instead of hate.
    I flinched as he grabbed me by the shoulders, his fingers digging painfully into my skin. "Somebody thinks she's quite smart," he snarled at me, his stone-like face inches from mine. My eyes were locked with his; I don't think I could have torn myself away if I'd tried. For the barest instant I thought I saw my father's eyes soften and hesitate. Then he hit me; and kept hitting me.
    I cowered against the kitchen cupboards, my blood making a hollow plinking sound as it dripped on to the linoleum. My lip was bleeding freely, but I hardly paid it any mind as I watched my father, like a rabbit would gaze at a wolf: warily, cautiously and with the utmost fear. He cowered over me, his eyes stormy and for an instant I actually expected lightning bolts of fury to flash in them. A fearful whimper escaped my lips as my father pulled me to my feet. A saying I'd once heard suddenly came to me; 'Supreme terror gives us back the gestures of our childhood'.
    My father didn't hit me or scream at me. For what seemed like an eternity as I gently bit down on my lip, filling my mouth with pain and the taste of dirty pennies, my father just studied my face as though he were deliberating something crucial. I didn't care what, I just wished that he would go away and never come back. Suddenly, he thrust me against him.
    Startled, I was frozen in place, my aching cheek pressed against his chest and hearing his heart along with my own rapidly racing one. My father's hand moved to my neck and my heart skipped a beat as I could easily imagine his strong hand cutting off my air, forever. Instead he did something ten times more unsettling. His fingers lightly brushed my neck, lingering upon my skin before resting his hand upon my hair. I wasn't sure what to do or say, as my mind was a confused jumble of thoughts. My father ran his hand over my hair with a touch so feather-light it sent shivers up my spin and suddenly I would have preferred for him to hit me. I'd never been more scared before as my father and his actions completely contradicted themselves. Why was he doing this? After years of violence, his gentle and near loving ways were ten times scarier than his fists. Was this some sort of trick? A trap, perhaps? As thought heard my silent questions, my father spoke.
    "So soft, so delicate," he whispered, entirely to himself rather than me. "Grace, beauty and strength. So much like her." There was a forlorn sigh against my ear. "Why?"
    So much like whom? Who was he talking about? I didn't have long to contemplate it as my father placed his hand beneath my chin and tipped my face up to his. I could actually hear the blood rushing through my ears, as time seemed to stop. The look in my father's eyes was nothing I'd ever seen on his face, towards me anyway. Ethan looked at me that way and I felt special beneath the warm bask of his loving eyes, but this was just wrong, and I shuddered.
    I felt my father's thumb glide along the line of my jaw to my lower lip and instinctively I flinched, but he didn't seem to notice, completely enraptured by my mouth. He ran his thumb tenderly along my bottom lip - how I wish with all my heart and soul that there were some other way to describe that touch! As I'd expected, his thumb came away the shade of cranberries, but the sight of my blood seemed to unnerve my father. His eyes narrowed and then he suddenly shoved me away, roughly and with such force that I slammed against the refrigerator. Several cheap magnets clattered to the floor and then he was gone.
    Still trembling, I sagged against the fridge in relief, just leaning there for a moment until my heart slowed down to a more normal pace. Tears automatically sprang to my eyes, but I angrily wiped them away. Damn him! I didn't understand anything, but I knew that I hated him even more and that I'd do my chores perfectly now. I never wanted that kind of attention from my father again.

CHAPTER SIX

Nothing had changed. Or at least that was the way everything appeared. My father ignored me as before and things were so much the same that I began to wonder if it had all actually happened. A swollen lip told me it had and even though on the surface everything seemed unchanged, I knew that everything was totally different. Gazing into the dirty, cracked mirror above the grungy sink in the bathroom, I wondered just whom exactly I reminded my father of. Was I really graceful, beautiful, and strong like whomever this mysterious woman was? That's when a very bad, but appealing idea occurred to me.
    Rifling through my mother's make-up case, I easily found everything that I was looking for. Mom always made sure her appearance was flawless before she went out each day and from watching her apply her make-up, I knew that I could get the effect I desired. My eyes were the first thing I focused upon, applying dark grey eye shadow to the lids with a touch of azure in the corners for that dreamy look. Charcoal eyeliner defined my eyes and my already naturally lengthy lashes helped as well. My eyes looked bold, yet velvet soft as though I were thoughtful. Scarlet lipstick gave emphasis to my lips, making my mouth shiny and, what a fashion ad I'd once seen, claimed to be tempestuous. I brushed out my hair until it gleamed like the midnight feathers of a raven. Looking at myself in the mirror, I knew that I was playing with fire.
    Did that mean that I was bound to get burned?
    Sneaking into my parents' room, I changed out of my t-shirt into Mom's dark sweater that was her best, despite having a rip in the sleeve. The neck was scooped, the sleeves came to gothic points, and the knitted material glittered. Most noticeable, however, was that it made my skin gleam. I knew Mom wouldn't say anything about the sweater and it gave definition to all my best features, the features, I imagined, that must still haunt my father.
    As I was coming out of my parents' room, I ran right into Jeremy and a startled gasp escaped my lips. I realised at that moment that I was afraid, playing with something that I hadn't the slightest clue about, but I managed to regain my composure quickly, lifting my chin slightly as Jeremy cocked one eyebrow in surprise.
    "What are you wearing?" Jeremy asked, his eyes sweeping over my face as though he hadn't seen it before. "You look... different." He eyed me warily. "You look like a girl!"
    "I do happen to be one, you know," I replied dryly, faking nonchalance, even though my heart was racing. In a few moments I would enter the kitchen and my father would receive a slap in the face from the past; or at least that was what I was hoping for. Suddenly the unknown didn't seem as scary.
    "Yeah, but you actually look like one," Jeremy emphasised, seemingly bothered by this. "Are you going out with Ethan tonight?"
    "We're going to the movies," I said.
    "Looking like that?"
    "That was sort of the idea," I replied, my words dripping with sarcasm. "Is supper ready?"
    "Yeah, I just finished it," Jeremy said distractedly, "but you're really going out like that?" From the protective way he was acting, I practically expected Jeremy to drag me back into the bathroom to make me wash everything off. He grinned as I sighed. "Just be careful, alright. I don't trust that guy sometimes."
    "You don't trust your own best friend?" I asked.
    "I would trust Ethan with my most prized possessions, my car if I had one, and my life," Jeremy said sincerely, "but I don't trust him with my sister."
    "You're a walking contradiction, Jeremy Matthew Dilangelou," I teased him as we entered the kitchen. My good mood was subdued slightly when I saw the family all seated there, including my father. He didn't look up as I entered, but the rest of the family did, both Mom and Jen's eyes widening slightly when they saw me. Noel's eyes also widened as Jeremy and I took our seats at the table, but more in appreciation than surprise.
    "You look pretty, Jadey," she said with child-like bluntness. "Mommy, what's Jadey wearing that makes her look all pretty?"
    Mom's reaction to my appearance surprised me even more than my father's, when he finally looked at me. She turned pale and her lips thinned to a line that was almost grim. "What, honey?" Mom asked; her eyes fixed on my face for a moment. Did she know the woman that I reminded my father of? "Oh, um, Jade is wearing make-up. She does look nice, doesn't she?" Her eyes flitted away distractedly; they were disturbed and large.
    "How come Jade gets to wear make-up?" Jen demanded. "I'm only two years younger than her and you still won't let me." Her voice was whiny and shrill as she glared at me enviously.
    "Because every time you put the stuff on, you put it on so heavy that you end up looking like a two bit hooker," Jeremy said with a wicked smile. "At least Jade isn't wearing a lipstick called 'Harlot'."
    Jen's eyes narrowed as her glare shifted from me to Jeremy. "I do not put on make-up too heavy and I still don't think it's fair!"
    "Jade is almost fifteen, Jen," Mom said, still acting nervous. "She's old enough and responsible enough to wear make-up now and you do put it on a tad bit on the heavy side."
    "Oh, c'mon now, Mom, you only ever have to chip away three layers before you get to the base," Jeremy said lightly. "That's not heavy, is it?"
    "You don't know anything about girls or make-up, so don't pretend you do!" Jen snapped. Her and Jeremy continued to bicker with Jen getting more furious as Jeremy got calmer. I knew how much he loved to goad her, and usually I interceded before things got too far, but I was distracted as I picked at my food nervously, wondering when my father would finally look at me. As though against his will, my father's eyes were drawn slowly from his dinner plate to my face.
    My father took in everything quickly, his eyes darkening slightly, but that was about the biggest reaction that I got from him. His gaze drifted back to his plate almost instantly and he continued to eat in silence. I was both relieved and disappointed, but what had I expected? That he would smash his plate against the wall and storm out? I didn't know, but I'd expected something more, that was for sure. My mother, however, continued to look pale and haunted, as though she had just seen a ghost...

My day of limbo arrived, the day I turned fifteen. When you're thirteen or fourteen, people still treat you like child, but at least you're treated as something. Sixteen is the age when you're on the verge of adulthood, you're looked at different, but fifteen... At fifteen you're no longer a child, nor an adult; you're just somewhere in between, waiting to leave behind one bridge so you can cross another.
    Ethan was wonderful to me yet again; treating me like a princess and making me feel slightly guilty. I know he didn't mean to make me feel that way, but I couldn't help it. School was out, so we spent the day together; I don't think I've ever smiled so much before. Ethan made us a picnic lunch and we set a blanket out on a grassy knoll in Central Park, talking and laughing so much that we both barely ate anything. A Shakespearean company set up to perform "Macbeth" and we watched that for a while; their Macbeth was excellent, but their Lady Macbeth lacked the coldness that seemed a staple for the part. Ethan and I both chanted the words spoken around the witches' cauldron, a particular scene we both loved. And then he gave me my birthday present.
    Unwrapping the square package that Ethan presented me with, my eyes widened slightly and I looked up at him, when I saw myself captured in a picture that looked professionally done. The girl in the drawing had her face tipped up to a star-filled sky with her cheeks gleaming becomingly. Dark hair was swept back from her face, and a glittery shooting star was reflected in her doe-eyes. My own eyes sparkled with tears, as I suddenly wanted to cry. Is this what Ethan really thought I looked like? "Thank you," I said softly, smiling through my tears.
    Placing his hand on my cheek, Ethan gently brushed away the crystal droplet that glimmered in the corner of my eye, his touch tender and comforting. "Jade," Ethan said, holding my gaze and licking his lips nervously. "I know I'm still pretty young and I don't know a whole lot about how things work, but..."
    I waited with held breath, wondering what Ethan could be trying to tell me. "Yes?" I said, urging, but not forcefully. "Ethan, you know you can tell me anything."
    "I know, Jade, that's why I'm pretty sure - no, I mean I know..." Ethan paused to take a deep breath and I smiled encouragingly. "I love you. There I said it, I got it out and I'm glad I did because I do. I love you."
    "And you were nervous about telling me this because...?" I asked with a small smile.
    "Well, I wasn't sure how you'd react," Ethan replied, eyeing me trepidatiously.
    "Ethan, surely you know by now that I feel the same way?"
    "No," he stated simply, shaking his head in wonder and chuckling to himself. "This isn't something you could have told me earlier? Say it then."
    "Why?" I asked with a teasing smile, pretending to admire my nails. "Once you posses so much power over someone..."
    "You are evil," Ethan said with a wolfish grin, tickling me. "Come on, Jade, say it." Even when had me squirming and gasping for breath on the grass, Ethan kept tickling me, making me laugh so much that tears came to my eyes.
    "Alright, alright," I gasped as Ethan leaned over me with that mischievous grin still on his face. "I love you! I love you!" He stopped tickling me immediately and I placed my hands on either side of his cheeks, bringing his handsome face to mine. "I love you," I said softly and with the utmost sincerity before we shared the sweetest kiss.
    I could hardly believe it; I, Jade Dilangelou, had managed to find love and it was something special, something even my father couldn't corrupt. As I lay on the fuzzy blanket in Ethan's comforting embrace, I didn't realise that my happiness would be short lived. Nor did I realise that my father wasn't the one I should have been concerned about.
    When I arrived at gymnastics later that afternoon, I didn't think that anything could possibly bring me out of my good mood. I was actually singing to myself as I changed into my leotard, feeling silly enough to twirl from my locker to the change room door. Skipping out to the main floor, I saw that Miss Claudia wasn't there yet and headed for her office. Sometimes she got busy and her students had to remind her that she was supposed to be teaching a lesson. When I got to her office, however, my blood stopped cold when I saw who else was there besides Miss Claudia: Ms. Barker.
    Ruth Barker was the social services worker who made sure Noel, Jen and I were regularly attending school and the extracurricular activities the government paid for; she'd also screwed us over on several occasions. When Jen had learned the lead in "The Nutcracker" one Christmas, Ms. Barker was there, intervening because the government only paid for the ballets performed in the Brooklyn district and Jen was supposed to perform in Manhattan. Like there were any half-decent theatres in this area anyway.
    The mole at the corner of Ms. Barker's mouth became a distorted comma, as her lips that were painted a vibrant poppy red twisted into what I supposed was her version of a smile. "Jade, it's nice to see you again," Ms. Barker said without the slightest touch of enthusiasm in her tone, ruddy-complexioned face, or her blue eyes that could have flattered Ms. Barker if they weren't so damned flat. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a chignon so tight that it lifted the corners of her eyes slightly.
    "I wish I had a justifiable reason to say the same about you," I replied curtly, giving Ms. Barker a smile that mirrored her own. Normally I wasn't so rude, but the woman sitting across from Miss Claudia had done nothing to earn my respect. Stepping up besides Miss Claudia's desk, I purposefully turned my back to Miss Barker, not wanting her to see the worry in my eyes. "What is it, Miss Claudia? Why is she here this time?"
    For a moment, Miss Claudia wouldn't even meet my eyes; her shoulders were slumped in a fashion that alarmed me because I'd never seen her looking like that before, so... defeated. "I'm sorry, Jade," Miss Claudia said with a forlorn sigh. "I tried, but there's nothing I can do. I'm sorry," she repeated.
    "For what?" I asked, wondering what was going on, but sensing that it was definitely something bad. "What's going on?" I demanded, turning to Ms. Barker who looked nonplussed.
    "Well, Jade," Ms. Barker began; looking down at the clipboard perched upon her grey plaid lap. "When you were first placed in the rhythmic gymnastics program, we hoped you would make it far, naturally, but we hadn't planned on you making it to this age and to such a high level. There's a certain cost that accompanies each of the competitions you're planning to attend, and I'm afraid we can't foot the bill anymore."
    "So you're punishing me for not only being old, but good?" I asked with undisguised incredulity in my tone. "You have to be kidding."
    "There's a certain cost that accompanies each of the competitions you're planning to attend..." Ms. Barker started again, like some broken record that you couldn't stand listening to the first time. "I'm sorry, Jade," she concluded.
    "You're not sorry!" I snapped, leaning across the desk towards Ms. Barker. "I seriously doubt if you feel even one iota of remorse. I'm not even a person to you, am I? I'm just another name on a piece of paper who you couldn't give a damn about!" Hot tears of frustration burned behind my lids, threatening to spill over.
    "Jade," Miss Claudia said softly, taking me by the shoulders and gently pushing me into her chair. "You're a good girl, a very talented girl," she said soothingly, smoothing back my hair and cupping my chin so that I was forced to look directly into her kindly blue eyes. "I could still train you, Jade. We could continue everything the same as before, except..." Miss Claudia trailed off.
    "Except I'd never go anywhere," I finished for her flatly, my whole future suddenly spanning before my eyes. "I'd still be a nobody, just... stuck." Ms. Barker shifted in her chair, but you could see in her eyes that she immediately regretted it when my gaze shot towards her. "So that's it," I stated, defeated, unable to help the trembling of my lower lip. "Nothing can be done?"
    "There's a certain cost-"
    "Yeah, okay, I got it the first time!" My voice rose with my anger as I spoke through gritted teeth. Rising from Miss Claudia's chair, I shook my head disbelievingly, blinking back tears. Then I turned to Ms. Barker, hoping she could see in my eyes how coldly and cruelly a dream had been snuffed out. "I'm just glad I've made your job a hell of a lot easier, but know this." I put my face close to Ms. Barker's, causing the first real trace of emotion I'd ever seen appear on her face: alarm. "You might feel as though you can walk all over us now, but someday one of my kind will show you. Maybe it'll be me, I honestly don't care, but someday you'll see. We've struggled and survived since a damned thing known as money was first introduced and one group of people didn't have as much as another. And we'll continue striving and persevering whether you like it or not. Peasants, the poverty stricken, whatever you want to call us, we'll always be there and that's something I hope you realise." My eyes narrowed to icy, glacier slits. "Because it's not your stories that inspire... it's ours." Rising, I blinked back tears, repeating firmly, "It's ours." My impassioned speech didn't seem to move Ms. Barker any, but I just hoped that someday she would see. That they'd all see.
    Before Miss Claudia could stop me, I was running out of her office. The only pause in my escape was a brief stop at the change room to grab my stuff and then I was bursting out of the front door of the gymnastics school. A starry night turned into a silvery-black blur as I ran and ran, not caring if I knocked anybody over or got hit by a car. Now I'd never prove myself to him! He'd always be able to look down on me with that condescending look and that knowing smirk. You're nobody... His words to me of many a time. You'll never be anything to anybody but a burden...
    Oh, God, it couldn't be true. I was somebody, I told myself. I had to be! Words of reassurance clashed with those of doubt as I ran until my lungs burned and my legs ached. It felt good to just let go; I felt free and almost elated. Before I even realised it, I was back at the apartment, catching my breath and feeling worthless, useless. I wanted to just escape to my garden on the roof, but there was supper to be made and chores to be done. Work and fear, those were the only things I seemed to know anymore. Along with the occasional spark of bliss when I was with Ethan, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't be with me all the time and I didn't have the strength to cast out the doubts that ravaged my self-confidence like a pack of savage wolves.
    Not bothering to change out of my leotard, I went about making that evening's meal. Unfortunately, it was a menial task and didn't distract me from my thoughts. My tears blended with the liquid from the pot of water I put on to boil and I hated every one of them. I didn't want to cry and feel weak and pathetic, but the tears flowed down my face as of their own free will. My depressing thoughts and my choked sobs were cut off when I heard the distinct sound of a key unlocking the door. Quickly wiping away my tears so either Jeremy, Jen or Noel wouldn't know I'd been crying, I didn't even consider that it could have been anybody else.
    Not until my father entered the kitchen.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Seeing my father standing in the kitchen doorway, I felt a sort of numbing fear slip over me. He wasn't so much looking at me as through me, with his normally sharp eyes watery and opaque. My gaze instantly flicked to the clock on the wall, noting with alarm that he was he far too early; something was wrong. And I had this dreadful feeling that I was about to bear the repercussions of this wrongness. Especially when I realised that my father was drunk.
    The smell of alcohol clung to him putridly, and I had to force myself not to wrinkle my nose in disgust as I calmly continued chopping up some vegetables. Somehow, like the fool I was, I clung to the desperate hope that if I continued acting normally then everything would remain that way: normal, ordinary, peaceful. My father staggered a step into the kitchen and I added slices of carrots to a pot of water on the stove, covering them so they'd steam. I became horribly aware that I was wearing only a leotard when his gaze started to come into focus and fixed on me.
    Cursing myself for not changing before I started making supper, I felt his eyes sweeping over my body and face in a manner that that I supposed was meant to be appreciative, but only made me feel nauseous and ill. I opened the oven door, placing the meat loaf on the rack then calmly closing the door. After that I set about cleaning up, still feeling those daunting eyes boring into me.
    Hadn't I myself stood before the long mirror in my parents' bedroom when I knew nobody was around, admiring all the new curves and changes in my body that had appeared almost seemingly overnight? Wearing only the bare skin God had sent me into the world in I'd turned this way and that, admiring how my waist was no longer just straight, but curved almost delicately. My breasts had filled out along with my hips and I thought the affect was rather appealing. I'd stretched out my legs, contemplating such silly and vain questions, as was it possible for legs to be both muscular and sexy? I'd even approached Jeremy with some of my many questions, but he mostly just either flushed red, glared at me, or said, "Jeez, Jade, can't you ask Mom these sorts of things?"
    Admiring my new shapeliness and more mature body, I now understood why all the male gymnasts liked to stand on the sidelines whenever the girls performed. And why they were so eager to volunteer to spot one of us. It had made me feel almost heady to realise this and perhaps even a little... powerful. To know that I could simply add a little sway to my hips and have a dozen male eyes follow that slight movement. Wow...
    At this very moment, however, I didn't want that somewhat powerful feeling. I didn't want the changes! I wanted to be the same skinny little kid, who'd lift her chin defiantly and who'd refused to show her tyrant of a father how much he got to her. Now the slightest thing could have me sobbing and I was finding it harder to fight the tears each time he'd swing his fists and scream ugly things at me. My emotions were no longer straight and simple like before. I wasn't simply angry at one time anymore; I could be happy, sad and angry all at once! Who had to go and make growing up so confusing?
    "Aren'tcha gonna ask why I'm home this early?" My father demanded suddenly in a voice that was surprisingly only slightly slurred. "Go on... ask me!" Pretty sure that he was going to tell me anyway, I didn't say a word, I just wiped the counters calmly, although I was waiting with held breath, anticipating something awful. "I got fired. How's that for gratitude, huh?"
    My eyes flew to my father's face despite myself and startled questions escaped my lips. "What? Why?" As soon as I spoke, I realised that I'd made a horrid mistake and hurriedly focused my attention back on the counters that were already as spotless as was possible. "I don't understand," I said softly, knowing my father's stand on children not speaking until they were spoken to. Or at least that's what he said, although I always thought he more supported that children should be seen and not heard.
    Even that one didn't seem fitting.
    My father staggered a couple steps towards me and I inched away, wishing he would just go away. I'd wished that each and every time, though, and thus far nobody was honouring any of them. "'Course you don't understand," he murmured, suddenly fascinated by my neck or so it seemed by his gaze. "You're just 'nother pretty face who is too caught up in fantasy land to see how the world really is. But what a pretty face..." With surprisingly quick reflexes in his current state, my father lunged with the speed of a cobra before I could even turn to flee. I managed to put my arms up to keep him a little distance away from me, but it was a feeble attempt because he seemed to ignore my elbows pressed against his chest.
    Panic flared as he thrust his pelvis against my stomach, driving my hips into the edge of the stove. I didn't even have time to cry out from the pain as my father's mouth smothered mine, his forceful probing tongue parting my lips brutally before I could even try resisting. Revulsion overrode fear as I brought my knee up; it was an instinctive movement, but the sharpness with which I did it was entirely of my own volition. Perhaps I should have dug my knee upwards more or his pain was numbed by all the alcohol he'd consumed, but my only reward for a thrust that would have had a normal man turning blue was that my father let out a muffled grunt and he backed off slightly. "Bitch!" he spat, slapping me good and hard so that the sound echoed loudly in our small kitchen.
    I'm truthfully not sure exactly what caused me to do what I did next, even now, but I can honestly say that I felt no pain from my father's slap. My head rocked to the side from his blow and dark hair fell to cover my face, but I simply looked back at him calmly, my eyes flashing defiantly. "Go to hell," I stated simply. And then I started laughing.
    Maybe I'd suddenly snapped or truthfully found the situation quite humorous, I don't know, but I couldn't stop laughing. The harder he slapped me, the harder I laughed until my ribs ached and tears brimmed my eyes.
    "What the hell is wrong with you?" my father demanded, not slapping me anymore, because he obviously saw it wasn't doing any good, but just staring at me like I'd gone crazy.
    This caused me to sober up somewhat and I looked at him sharply. "What the hell is wrong with me?" I repeated incredulously, trying to pull my wrists out of his vice-like grip. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I countered, tears of anger and frustration burning at the corners of my eyes when he didn't release me. "You might loathe me and despise everything about me, but I'm still your daughter whether you want to acknowledge it or not!"
    The corner of my father's mouth lifted into a contemptuous smirk and his grip on my wrists tightened. "Oh, right, you're my daughter," he seethed at me, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "How could I possibly forget somethin' like that?" Either he was too drunk to care about this significant fact or he just didn't care period, but my father suddenly released my wrists, instead darting in and flinging me over his shoulder as though I weighed nothing. Struggling to get free, I managed to snake my way down to the floor - just as my father carried me into the bedroom he shared with my mother.
    "I'll scream," I warned him, my eyes darting about for any way to get past him. When I made a valiant attempt and didn't succeed, I threw my head back, intending to scream bloody murder. I'd rather die than have him touch me like he was intending... Before I could utter even a sound, a sharp slap was delivered to my face and my chin was gripped roughly and brutally so that I was forced to look into his distorted, blood-shot eyes.
    "Try it and your precious Noel will be gutted like a fish." My father threatened me viciously with another slap. "Is that what you want?"
    "You wouldn't dare..." Except there was wildness in those icy blue eyes that told me he'd do just as he'd promised and I was torn by indecision. Noel was at Judy's again and my father could just as easily go over there and get her. Oh, God, I didn't know what to do... My father made a move to grab me and I quickly scrambled across to the other side of the bed, almost not remaining quiet. "I hate you!" I threw at him with such intense vehemence that it made him falter in crossing to where I stood. My fists were trembling as I clenched them by my side, years of frustration and hate finally exploding to the surface so that I didn't care about anything for a moment. At that moment I didn't even care if he killed me...
    "I really, really HATE YOU! I hate that you're my father! I hate that you're married to my mother! You're a son of a bitch and I'm glad you lost your stupid job because maybe it will make you go away!" The tears were spilling down my cheeks freely as I screamed all this; my true feelings bubbling to the surface like an exploding volcano. "I WISH YOU WERE DEAD! YOU CAN GO TO HELL AND SAVE ME A SEAT FOR ALL I CARE RIGHT NOW!"
    The oddest expression appeared on my father's face just then and he seemed frozen in place, just staring at me for the longest time as I shook viciously and continued to cry. I was showing him how weak I truly was for the first time, and he wasn't pouncing on it like I thought he would. He looked exactly like my mother had looked when I'd appeared at the table all dressed up that one night, like he'd seen a ghost. "My God," he whispered and then he was turning and walking out of the bedroom as I just stared after him.
    Feeling uneasy, I just stood there for a moment, sobs of relief wracking my body. I didn't understand why he hadn't killed me, but I was too overwhelmed and upset to really care. Suddenly the garden didn't seem like enough and I just wanted to anywhere but here; I wanted to be free of anything that reminded me of this place. Throwing on a jacket, still crying, I ran downstairs and outside, gulping in fresh air like I'd been deprived of it until that moment. Fleeing just like I had at gymnastics, I ran down the street, feeling like my heart would burst from the pain and horror that engulfed my every being.
    Happy birthday to me.

That day was the last time I saw my father alive. School had begun again and I knew he was still there because groceries still showed up; it was just that my father didn't. I wasn't concerned, nor was I overly relieved. At school I was finding it hard to concentrate and went through my usual routine like a zombie, except that I didn't have to attend gymnastics anymore. Not used to having all this spare time, I still practiced in the garden, but it wasn't the same.
    Nothing was.
    Ethan had begun to question me about my rather lethargic behaviour and I'd tried to be more energetic and happy, but it was painfully obvious to both of us that I was faking it. This began to put a strain on our relationship, and the realisation that I was the cause of it only made me feel lower. Lately I'd taken to going on long walks, despite Jeremy's warnings and my own knowledge of how dangerous the streets could be. After yet another heated argument with Ethan about how I was acting, I intended to go on one of these walks, but didn't have the energy. So I dug around in my coat pocket and managed to find a few coins, enough to take the bus with a trick Jeremy had taught me. Technically I had only fifteen cents, but once your hand shot out as soon as the person in front of you deposited their coin, it magically turned into the dollar required to ride the bus; mixed in with a little nonchalance naturally.
    Not even knowing or really caring where I was going, I gazed out the dirty windows of the bus, watching the people on the street and the buildings turn into one drab, grey blur. This particular argument had been my fault, again. Ethan had expressed his hurt because I wouldn't confide in him what was wrong and I'd just looked at him levelly and told him to leave it alone, which of course he hadn't.
    "People who love each other should share everything, right?" Ethan had demanded.
    "Not everything," I'd told him with a weary sigh. "Not this."
    "Who not? Jade, you're not being fair..."
    "And you're not respecting my privacy!" I'd snapped back. "I don't want to talk about it, alright?"
    "So, you're just going to keep your feelings all bottled up inside and NEVER share them?" Ethan demanded. "That's just... stupid!"
    And it was; oh, how I knew it was. Yet both my temper and my pride had flared at this and we'd argued until finally I'd just slumped back into the car seat and demanded that he take me home. The ride back to my apartment was spent in tense silence, and without a word I'd gotten out of Ethan's Jeep and stalked up the stairs to the apartment. Naturally I'd felt horrible as soon as my temper simmered and now here I was, feeling like a complete jerk.
    September rain soon began to streak the windows of the bus, and I felt the driver's suspicious gaze on me considering I was one of his few passengers left on the bus and had been riding for quite some time now. Deciding I'd outstayed my welcome, I pulled up the hood of my jacket and stepped out into the rain, looking up and down the street as the bus pulled away, leaving me completely alone. Walking to the nearest street sign, I realised that I'd ended up in the deep south of Brooklyn, one of the most dangerous neighbourhoods. Cursing myself for being so stupid, I started in the direction of home, which was very far away. I didn't have any money left to even fake my way on to another bus, my stomach was beginning to grumble, and a deep chill was beginning to set into my skin.
    The rain pounded down mercilessly as I walked, trying to pretend like I lived near here. A group of boys made suggestive catcalls from beneath a store awning where they were smoking, but I just ignored them, praying they didn't decide to follow me. Footsteps behind me told me that my prayers had gone unheeded and I quickened my pace, ducking my head lower and hoping the rain and darkness would dissuade them from following me further. The footsteps came closer and forgoing any attempt at nonchalance, I took off running, wishing the streets were lit better than hazy gold lighting. Rounding a corner, I ran smack into someone and thinking that maybe one of them had managed to loop around in front of me, I swung my foot, connecting quite nicely with a shin.
    The person I'd run into cursed and I brought my foot back to deliver another kick, but they gripped me by the shoulders and held me at a distance so I couldn't reach the person. "Hey! What are you doing?" Peering through the rain, I realised that I'd mistaken a man for one of the boys who'd been chasing me. Glancing behind me, I saw that the boys had stopped and were looking my way hesitantly. "Were those boys after you?" Numbly nodding, I opened my mouth to apologise, but the man was already ushering me along. "Come on, you'll be safe where I teach."
    I hesitated, reluctant to go with a complete stranger, but if it meant getting out of the rain for a little bit, then I was willing to take the risk. Besides, if he was a teacher then there had to be other people at the place he taught. When the man stopped beneath an awning and dug in his jacket pocket for his keys, I caught a glimpse of the emblem the store window held and immediately regretted kicking him. "You teach here?" I asked, my eyes widening slightly. The emblem was that of a silhouetted figure frozen in a flying kick and the words 'J.J. Lee Tae Kwon Do' were arched over the lethal figure.
    Obviously amused by my sudden reluctance, I caught a glimpse of white teeth flashed through the darkness from the man. "It's okay," he assured me, opening the door and stepping inside. Shaking the rain off my jacket and hood, I stamped my feet and couldn't suppress the immense feeling of relief that washed over me at the warmth of the building. The man did the same thing I was doing and pulled back his hood, revealing a rather handsome man who I estimated to be about forty, give or take a few years. This didn't increase my trust of him any; my father was also a very good-looking man.
    Still, there was something kind in his grey eyes that held flecks of green like my own. His hair was chestnut coloured and looked like it could use a haircut, but beyond that he was obviously very well kept. With a trim figure and wide shoulders, it was obvious that the man kept himself in shape, and there was a lethal grace about him that made me think it was probably very difficult to catch him off guard. Realising he was studying me as I studied him, I flushed and looked down at my shoes, searching for something to say.
    Avoiding meeting the man's eyes, I looked around at my surroundings, realising that I'd been heavily dissuaded by all kung fu movies. Off to my right was the place where shoes were supposed to be kept along with a pop machine. Just ahead was a cream-carpeted staircase that led to the place where I presumed classes were taught. It couldn't have been downstairs, because just past the staircase was a desk and a window to the right just above where the shoes were supposed to be kept showed me an exercise area with a punching bag in the corner. "Not what you expected, is it?" the man asked with an amused sparkle in his eyes.
    Turning my attention to him, I just shook my head, surprised at the ordinariness of it all. "Um... Thanks for helping me out back there," I told him awkwardly. "I appreciate it - I'll only stay a few minutes," I added hastily, glancing out the window and hoping it would stop raining soon.
    "Do you have a name?"
    I hesitated an instant before telling him. "Jade."
    "Jade what?" I gave him a sardonic look that made him chuckle. "Clever girl. I'm Stefan Beauregard." A confused expression crossed my face, because he said he taught here, yet the name on the store window had said J.J. Lee. "I'm the sensei at this particular school, but we're just a sub-school of Master Lee's main school. Have you ever taken any martial arts?"
    "No." The man, Stefan, gave me an imploring look and I added reluctantly, "I used to take gymnastics..."
    "Used to?" Stefan questioned, but he must have seen in my face that I really didn't want to talk about it, so he didn't ask me any further questions. "So you must be pretty flexible then... Most of my students have worked themselves up to be able to do the splits." There was a slightly challenging look in his eyes, and I realised he was trying to goad me into bragging.
    Not wishing to disappoint, I removed my jacket, only slightly worried about showing off without having warmed up first. "Can most of your students do this?" I asked. Taking a hold of my foot I brought it up gracefully, extending it until it was just as straight as the one I was standing on.
    Letting out an impressed whistle, Stefan shook his head, clapping, much to my embarrassment. "No, I don't think I've ever seen any of them quite do that," he teased as I dropped my leg. "You know, I'll bet you could probably kick quite high... Come on." Lowering my leg back down, I followed him over to the punching bag in the corner reluctantly. "Go on," he urged, standing off to the side and looking at me. "Kick it."
    I did so after a moment's hesitation and at Stefan's urging, I kicked higher and higher until my foot almost touched the top of the bag. "How's that?" I asked him, unable to help feeling slightly proud of myself.
    "Good," Stefan assured me. "Excellent in fact... Although while your kicks in form and height are very nice, the bag doesn't move very far. Try pulling your toes back." After years of being taught to point my toes and getting reprimanded if I didn't, this new technique was a little bit more difficult for me to grasp. This complete stranger I just met was surprisingly patient, and he helped me until I managed to pull my toes back and my kick sent the bag reeling against the wall. "Beautiful! You have natural skill, Jade, I can tell." I couldn't help feeling pleased by this and also wondering just how much it cost to take classes here. As though reading my mind, Stefan said, "Would you like to see where the classes are taught?"
    I nodded and followed him up the carpeted stairs that led to a floor that was all linoleum. There were chairs on the sides for spectators to watch, I imagined, and a closet in the corner, but there wasn't much else to clutter things. On the far wall in the centre were the nation's flag and a circle that I imagined must represent Tae Kwon Do or martial arts in some way. There were two mirrors on either side of the flag and the plaque, and an open doorway to the right where people must enter the class. Stefan very patiently explained everything to me, including school policies and rate of advancement for belt levels. It was all quite fascinating and something about the challenge of reaching your next belt level spoke to me, but I was crestfallen when I realised just how much it would cost.
    "That much, huh?" I said, looking out the window and realising that the rain had started to clear some. "I guess I should probably get going."
    "Why don't you let me drive you home?" Stefan offered with a teasing sparkle in his ashen eyes. "At least let me do that to make up for giving me a bruised shin." I complied, deciding that I could have him let me off a few blocks away from my apartment building and I would keep my hand on the car handle just in case. He asked me questions about my family, school and friends as he drove me home, but was surprisingly quiet when I attempted to do the same. The only thing Stefan seemed willing to talk about in fact was the martial arts studio. It didn't really matter, however, because I wouldn't see him again after this.
    "I know we don't know each other very well, Jade," Stefan said as he pulled the car to a stop outside of a place called Rotary Manor. "But I like you and I'd hate to see your natural talent go to waste."
    "I don't have enough money to take classes at your school," I told him despairingly, wanting to cut him off before he tried to flatter me anymore. "In fact I don't have any money."
    "Do you have a job?"
    I shook my head in the negative. "Most of the stores in this neighbourhood only hire family members who they know they can trust." A sardonic smirk crossed my face, realising that my choice of profession if I wanted a job was either a cab driver or stripper. "Old Joe in my building sometimes tips me when I get groceries for him," I offered with a shrug.
    "Well, how would you like to work for me?" Stefan asked with a wide smile. The disbelieving, stunned look on my face made him continue. "You could help keep the school clean for me, maybe do some paperwork sometimes, and if you're interested in enrolling in classes, then all you have to do is give me half of every pay check you make. The rest is yours to spend as you wish - What's wrong?" His kindly grey eyes narrowed in concern when I began to cry, not used to such kindness from a stranger.
    "I just... thank you," I concluded lamely, wiping away my tears. "You have no idea how much that would mean to me."
    "Great, I'll see you Monday then," Stefan said as I got out of his car. "I'm really glad I met you, Jade, and I look forward to teaching you," he added with a wink.
    I smiled and couldn't help feeling as though I were on top of the world as I headed towards the apartment, feeling elated because I'd been given a second chance along with another gift that I thought had eluded me forever. Hope.

CHAPTER EIGHT

My first week spent attending classes at Stefan Beauregard's school made me fully realise the difference between Tae Kwon Do and gymnastics for me. Gymnastics had been fun to a degree, but there'd also been that dutiful feeling I'd experienced every time I went. With Tae Kwon Do it was entirely different: I wanted to go to every class possible and I drank information about the martial arts in like water. My very first class introduced me to some entirely new things, but standing before the mirror in the change room, wearing the entirely white uniform that I later learned was called a gi, I'd felt both excited and nervous which was something I'd only experienced before competitions in gymnastics.
    I'd thought that Stefan would just kind of dismiss me and not really pay any attention to me in class, but he made sure to introduce me to everyone and to ask about every five seconds if I was having fun - when I got into the actual class anyway. At first another female instructor took some other new people and myself downstairs to show us the different stances and forms, including how to make a proper fist. I already knew that from Jeremy, but I made sure to pay special attention to every step the instructor taught. Near the end of the hour that class lasted, we were taken back upstairs to watch something called-free sparring and to do the final stretches before we were dismissed.
    I soon learned that free sparring was where you partnered up with someone and practiced the stuff you knew. As a mere white belt at first I obviously didn't know much, but I found it one of the more enjoyable parts of the class when I got used to it. The main thing I had difficulty with was yelling; Stefan explained it was essential in intimidating an attacker, but I still felt kind of shy and awkward about it. Still Tae Kwon Do added that spark I'd missed back into my life and in me; Ethan noticed it almost immediately. Except, unfortunately, he also noticed my sister at the same time.
    About the time I'd been taking classes with Stefan for two weeks, Jen began to become a little too interested in spending time with her big sister. Ethan insisted it was a stage all little sisters went through, but I found her sweet attitude a little too strong, even if Ethan didn't. They would laugh and joke together while we tried to do homework and I didn't want to be jealous - I honestly didn't - yet there were little things Jen did that just irked me. She'd touch Ethan's arm in what I supposed was meant to be a subtle manner while they were talking or flip her blonde hair over her shoulder flirtatiously, all the while gazing at him like Jeremy said I used to; in that 'oh my god, you're so funny' kind of way.
    And it bugged the hell out of me.
    I didn't want it to, but it just did. And Stefan, who I'd come to view as a casual friend as well as a teacher and employer, noticed. After I'd finished work there one evening when I didn't have a class, he offered to help me improve my kicks. I'd readily accepted, not bothering to change since I was already wearing an ivory tank top and a pair of black stretch pants. Stefan gave me some basic instruction and when he was satisfied with how my kicks looked, he decided to let me try hitting a target. One snap kick that connected with the black vinyl paddle seemed to ease at least half of the tension out of my body.
    "Whoa! Whoa!" Stefan said with a slight laugh as my next few kicks connected with a loud satisfying smacking sound as well. "If I'm not mistaken you are definitely taking your aggression out for some reason," he teased with a wide grin. "Picturing an old boyfriend or something, are we, Jade?"
    I couldn't help grinning back. "My sister, actually," I lamented honestly.
    "What did she do, steal your clothes or hang up on you while you were on the phone?"
    "We don't have a phone," I said almost absently as I towelled the sweat off my face. "And it's not my clothes she's trying to steal, but my boyfriend." I meant to say this with good-humoured light-heartedness, but it came out more as a possessive growl.
    A strange look came over Stefan's face. "Aren't you a little young for a boyfriend?"
    "I'm fifteen," I said, not disguising my surprise. "Most girls my age have had several boyfriends by the time they're fifteen, but I've only had the one. Not that I'd trade Ethan for anything in the world," I said with an affectionate, loving smile. "He's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
    Stefan smiled. "Well I'm sure if he's as terrific as you say he is, then you shouldn't have to worry about your sister," he said consolingly.
    "Right," I said, not sounding as certain as I desperately wanted. And I shouldn't have had to worry about either Ethan or Jen; nor should I have stumbled upon the unpleasant surprise that I did. Before the bitterness of winter was to once again ruin all my beautiful flowers, I planned on transferring one to a flowerpot so that I could hold on to the beauty of the world during summer for just a while longer. Autumn in New York was also breathtakingly beautiful, but it only reminded me of the harsh snowstorms and bitter, numbing walks to school that were to come.
    With a trowel and flowerpot in hand one day in late October, I climbed the fire escape to the roof, already relaxed because it was the one place I could be myself.... Or so I thought. Clearing the ladder I didn't look up at first, only when I had both feet firmly planted on the pitted asphalt did I notice the two entwined figures on the sun chair, MY sun chair. I was so shocked to find anybody, let alone Ethan and Jen, in the garden that I could only stand and stare for a moment.
    My sister, if I even wanted to call her that anymore, had one tanned shapely leg thrown over Ethan's casually as they kissed each other hungrily with my boyfriend's (if I also wanted to call him that anymore) hand beneath Jen's shirt. I must have made some sort of sound without realising it, for they both looked my way suddenly, both their faces turning red, even Jen's although I could tell behind her initial shame was delight. "Jade, um... Hi," Jen offered lamely, not bothering to move from her position on the sun chair.
    It was Ethan who shot off the sun chair like an arrow, looking devastated, embarrassed and horrified. Good was all I could think. "Well well, what have we here?" I mused aloud, trying to sound nonchalant and casual even though I was crying and screaming on the inside. "What was it, Ethan?" I asked, fixing him with a piercing gaze that made him look away. "I wasn't, what's the phrase, 'giving you any'?"
    Jen decided to go with the indignant approach, rising slowly and placing her hands on her hips. "Don't go all martyr like on us, Jade, you know that you haven't exactly been the ideal girlfriend lately." This fact was true and stung, but I didn't allow myself to flinch or show any sort of reaction. "Why don't you go ahead and tell us who Stefan is, huh, Jade?"
    "How do you know about him?" I asked sharply.
    "I followed you to your little school one night," Jen declared boastfully. "I was curious when I saw you talking to this good-looking, older guy so I went in after you'd left, you know, just to ask him some questions." Her sapphire eyes took on a crafty gleam. "Stefan seems very fond of you, Jade, very fond indeed. Are you sure you don't also feel the same way? He is gorgeous, you have to admit, I'd do him if he showed me the special sort of attention he does you."
    Jen obviously expected me to retaliate in some sort of satisfying way, but I decided not to rise to the occasion. "Stefan has nothing to do with this," I said, trying to keep my tone as level and even as possible. "Although I would like to know why the hell you're so curious about what I've been doing all of a sudden and especially how you found this place?"
    "You're not as secretive and smart as you think you are, Jade," Jen said angrily. "I discovered this place a long time ago!"
    "And do you bring all your boyfriends here?" I asked with a sarcastic bat of my lashes. "You certainly seemed quite at home with mine."
    "Oh," Jen cooed, "poor Saint Jade. Her boyfriend isn't as faithful as she thought, her little sister managed to steal him away. Boo hoo. God, Jade, sometimes I just wish you'd get off my back!"
    "Stop spending so much time on it and maybe I will," I replied, my voice low and dangerous, letting Jen know I wasn't going to take her less than sisterly attitude for too much longer. "What about you, Ethan?" I asked, turning on him with ferociousness that made him flinch. "Do you have any words of advice for Saint Jade, the high and mighty?"
    Looking like a deer that'd suddenly been caught in the glare of a pair of car headlights, Ethan looked from me to Jen, licking his lips nervously. "Look, Jade, I'm really sorry... I never meant for things to turn out like this."
    "Funny," I replied, searching his forest green eyes for a moment, "because neither did I." Turning away I couldn't help the slump of defeat in my shoulders. "Sorry I interrupted," I muttered before climbing down the ladder and locking the screen door behind me as I entered the apartment. Considering that I didn't have the roof anymore, I simply did what any other teenager girl who'd just had her heart broken would have done: I threw myself upon my bed and cried my heart out, wishing that my tear soaked pillow could also absorb all of my sadness.

Jen rewarded me with the silent treatment after my little unpleasant discovery on the roof, and no matter how heart broken or devastated I was; I just couldn't bring myself to forgive Ethan. Even with all the flowers, cards and gifts I received, it just all made it worse because it seemed as though he were trying to buy my love back. The worst part was that I had Jen there to add the salt every time I tried to lick my wounds. There were no private moments alone to cry or pour my heart out in poetry or some other form of release. Tae Kwon Do helped some, but even it wasn't enough to ease the pain, betrayal and sadness I felt.
    Finally one day after class when I was supposed to be cleaning the mirrors, I just broke down and began to sob, leaning against the reflective surface and sliding down it to a tiny ball, wishing I could just disappear. Why did it have to hurt so much? It felt as though my whole world had just crumbled and all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't possibly put it back together again. Why Ethan? Why the only good thing in my life? I beat my fist hard against the linoleum floor as though it were the one to blame for everything.
    "Jade!" I heard a voice tinged with alarm cry out and lifted my head, seeing Stefan's concerned face through my tear-blurred vision. "What is it? What's the matter?" He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and I had to admit it was comforting and couldn't help leaning into the warmth of his body slightly.
    "I'm sorry," I managed, attempting to clear away my tears. "I should be cleaning, I realise-"
    "Don't worry about that now," Stefan admonished. "What happened to make you so upset?"
    "Well," I began hesitantly, deciding that he was trustworthy enough. "It seems that I was right about my sister, although you were very wrong about Ethan." A hollow laugh strangled by a sob escaped my lips. "I found the two of them together and…" I couldn't bring myself to finish as a fresh flood of tears poured down my cheeks, although I knew that Stefan got the idea.
    I felt his fingers lightly running through my hair, and it felt so good just to have somebody there who actually cared. "Jade, I'm sorry," Stefan said in a gently voice. "I know how hard it can be to discover that the person you love isn't the selfless human being that you thought. But you're young, Jade, you'll bounce back."
    "You think so?" I asked with a sniffle, although I was certain that I would never get over Ethan and the beautiful relationship we'd had before my own flesh and blood had ruined it.
    "I know so," Stefan said firmly, reaching out with gentle fingertips and tipping my face up to his. "You're a beautiful girl, Jade, and personally I think this Ethan guy is a little crazy for doing what he did to someone as wonderful as you." There was so much strength and faith in Stefan's grey gaze that I almost started to believe him.
    "Thank you," I said although it came out a whisper as I attempted a smile. We probably should and could have moved apart then, but the feel of being in someone's arms, even if he was a man twice my age, was just so comforting. Resting my head against his chest for a moment, I could almost imagine that I was with Ethan, inhaling his masculine scent and feel as though everything was right in the world. Even when Stefan began to caress my cheek, and then my neck, I didn't lose that feeling; in fact it was almost strengthened. Perhaps it was that way for him also, it felt good to have someone to comfort and take care of.
    Closing my eyes, I said silent prayer asking God to forgive because I didn't move away when I felt Stefan's lips upon my hair, his warm breath gently tickling my neck. I think that he was most likely trying to convince himself that he was only comforting me, just as I was, but when his lips gently grazed my cheek we both sprang apart like two kittens who'd gone beyond the point of rough housing. Stefan look appalled and my face immediately turned red as I got ungracefully to my feet. "I should finish cleaning," I said, picking up the glass cleaner and a rag once again.
    "Yes, I suppose you should," Stefan said with undisguised anger in his voice that caught me by surprise. Glancing at him I saw that his grey eyes were narrowed and he looked mad as though that would erase what had just happened. "Just come downstairs when you want me to let you out..." He left and I continued cleaning with my heart pounding within my throat, telling myself that it was just a one time incident, a slip-up, and that it would never happen again. Never.

CHAPTER NINE

Where had all the warmth and beauty of spring gone so fast? It seemed that just as the world was beginning to blossom and thrive, winter was once again arriving to eradicate the beauty with bone-chilling winds and sudden snowstorms. Mom's Christmas presents that year were surprisingly extravagant, and I couldn't help wondering in a slightly suspicious fashion where she'd been able to get all the money. I received a beautiful angora sweater done in heather that was both warm and looked stunning on me, but that must have cost her a fortune. Jeremy received a new basketball, Jen got a rather expensive make-up kit (she didn't miss the opportunity to flaunt in my face that she could now wear it) and Noel was given a beautiful red crushed velvet dress with lace edging at the neck and collar.
    There was even a pretty silk sash also done in red, and with her dark curls pinned back at the sides and the bow tied neatly, Noel looked so grown up that it made me want to cry. She was now seven and not just adorable anymore, but pretty, so ravishingly lovely that you just knew she was going to break all the boys' hearts when she got older. Both Noel and Jen were still in ballet, with the latter getting in more and more trouble while Noel received more and more praises. Jen was not able to embrace the classical elements of ballet like our little sister that was so mature for her age; Jen liked to do whatever she wanted whenever she wanted.
    "You should have seen it, Jade!" Jen exclaimed to me as she'd rushed into our bedroom after her ballet class, breathless, her cheeks flushed with ire and excitement. "Bobby Edwards, one of the older dancers who like always flirts with me, was totally laying it on heavy today. I mentioned that I thought ballet was so rigid and structured because, like, where's the fun and excitement, right? So then Bobby asked me how I would make it more fun and exciting, indicating that I might even demonstrate for him!"
    Caught up in my own excitement of an almost sisterly moment with Jen, I smiled encouragingly. "And what did you do?" I asked.
    "Demonstrated for him, naturally," Jen said with a sly bat of her golden lashes. "You know 'Swan Lake', right? The pas de deux with Sigfried and Odette, well I got Bobby to perform that with me except that MY Odette won her prince with seduction, not by being all demure and whatever." Jen grinned proudly before a scowl crossed her face. "But then it turned out that Madame saw like the WHOLE thing and the ENTIRE class got this lecture on inappropriate behaviour and sexual conduct in the dance class."
    We both burst into laughter and I was pleasantly surprised when Jen hugged me, wondering if she was just trying to make up for how she'd hurt me with Ethan. "You know, Jade," Jen began hesitantly, casting her eyes downward, "I don't hate you as much as you think I do. Sometimes it just makes me SO angry that everybody loves you best. Jeremy, Mom, even Noel and you're so good at everything you do, even keeping your emotions in check. While I cry, scream and throw a fit, you act all calm and collected... I don't get how you do it, but I just want you to know that I don't totally hate you." Jen gave me a peck on the check before grabbing her purse off our bed. "Gotta run! Bobby's taking me out for coffee!"
    "Don't let him flirt too much!" I called after her good-naturedly as Jen dashed out of our room, leaving me to ponder over everything that she'd talked about. Jen was wrong in one aspect at least; I thought to myself; everybody didn't love me best. Our father hated me, and if your own parent couldn't stand you, then how was it possible for anybody else to? I didn't understand any of it, especially Jen's sudden change of heart, but soon none of that was to truly matter.
    Mom's generosity continued to flourish, and while I thought it was wonderful that us kids were finally getting some of the gifts we'd always longed for, I began to get angry, realising that all this money she was spending could have gone towards food or rent. And where was it all coming from? It had to be coming from somewhere, but every time I even brought the subject up, Mom would just dismiss it, admonishing me for "looking a gift horse in the mouth" as she called it. I began to get so angry and frustrated that I was about to speak up, but suddenly the gifts stopped and so did Mom's happiness. The bruises and the blood had stopped for a while, but now they were back again, ten fold.
    One night after Tae Kwon Do, I got home to find Mom crying softly to herself on the couch, a fresh bruise on her cheek and a whole collage on her arms and legs to match. "Mom, what happened?" I asked in alarm, rushing immediately to her side.
    "Oh, Jadey!" she cried, taking me in her arms and hugging me close for a long moment. "I just can't seem to get out... I've tried and I've tried, but nothing works. Nothing!"
    "Get out of what, Mom?" I asked in confusion. "I don't understand..."
    Pulling back, Mom studied my face for a moment, gently rubbing my cheek with her thumb as she gazed at me in a way that made me feel frightened all of a sudden. "You're so brave and strong, Jade, so unlike me... You'd do anything for this family wouldn't you, Jadey?" Her tone was almost pleading and I shifted my gaze away uncomfortably.
    "I guess so," I replied hesitantly, not sure exactly what she meant. "I'd definitely do anything to take care of you, Jeremy, Jen and Noel, Mom, but I don't understand what you're saying... Please just explain it to me."
    "Anything," Mom murmured more to herself than me, although the way she said it sent a chill down my spine. My discomfort with the moment must have been obvious on my face, because she laughed suddenly. "It's not like I'm asking you to give blood or murder someone, you silly goose," Mom admonished me with a happy smile. "It's just good to know that if something were to ever happen to me or your father, there's somebody who will look out for this family."
    "Nothing's going to happen to you, Mom," I said insistently, my heart beating a rapid paced tattoo of fear. "Why are you saying this?"
    "Relax, Jadey," Mom said, pressing her finger to my lips. "You worry far too much, I'm just thinking aloud. Nothing is going to happen, I'm just trying to tell you that I admire how dedicated to this family you are... Even if it was in a morbid sort of way." I returned her teasing smile, but her warm words couldn't ease the sudden chill I felt. Jeremy, Jen, Noel and Mom meant everything to me and the thought of losing any of them was just too incomprehensible. Naturally I didn't include my father in my thoughts. Perhaps I should have.

Ethan was surprisingly persistent and stubborn in trying to get me to forgive him. In a way I was touched that I actually meant that much to him, but it didn't ease the hurt that he'd caused me any. He still dropped in every now and then to say 'hello', gazing at me with those puppy-dog eyes as we talked; I decided there was no point in simply ignoring him, even if I did refuse his invitations to go out and any presents he tried to give me. The Christmas presents he left on my doorstep were guiltily kept a little longer than I should have held on to them because they made our minimal pile look bigger, but I still sent them back.
    I was more than slightly surprised when he showed up on New Year's Eve, although his presence wasn't what caught me off guard, but the fact that Ethan was drunk. He didn't stagger around like I'd seen my father do on numerous occasions, but I could smell the reek of alcohol on his breath and he leaned against the doorway in a way that definitely wasn't casual. "Happy New Year," Ethan declared with a slight slur to his words. "Just thought I'd come by to celebrate with my best girl."
    "Ethan, I'm not your girl anymore," I reminded him, checking over his shoulder to make sure my father wasn't coming, even though I hadn't seen him since the incident when he'd been fired. "And you're drunk. I think you should go."
    The grin immediately faded from Ethan's face. "I might be drunk, but that doesn't mean I don't still have feelings," he said with a hurt look, seeming to sober up for a moment. "Can't we just go back to the way things used to be," Ethan asked in a pleading tone. "I love you, Jade... I miss you."
    "Why don't we discuss this when you're a bit more sober," I said with a sigh, pushing on his chest lightly in hopes that he would just leave. "You probably don't even have the slightest clue as to what you're saying."
    "Do, too," Ethan said defensively, bringing back his goofy, lop-sided grin. "Now what about a kiss to ring in the New Year..." Before I could protest he was sliding his arms about my waist and pulling me closer to him, lowering his mouth to mine. Despite the fact that he was drunk, Ethan had always been a good kisser and I tried to resist him, but my body didn't seem to want to listen as it melted into his. My hands even rose to wrap around his neck almost out of their own volition as my fingers entwined in his hair, kissing him back with pure abandon.
    My mind chided me like a mother hen, telling me that I shouldn't be doing this, but I did still love him. "Ethan, I think we should stop," I protested, although feebly as he trailed light kisses along the curve of my neck, feeling his hand slip under my sweater to caress my bare back.
    "You think or you want?" Ethan asked with a lust-filled smile, nibbling my ear in a way that was very distracting. I tried to think of what I wanted, but any logical thoughts were washed away in a wave of shy delight as he lifted my sweater over my head. "I take it nobody's home," Ethan said as he kicked the door shut.
    "Why do you say that?"
    "You would have stopped me if somebody was here," Ethan explained, as we somehow managed to make our way to the couch between a flood of passionate kisses and awkward gropes. He was right, nobody was home; Mom was working late so she could get some sort of bonus, Noel was over at Judy's, Jen had gone out with some friends of hers and Jeremy was at some sort of New Year's Eve party. "Do you realise how long we've been apart?" Ethan asked me, leaning back on the couch and pulling me down with him. I'd never known this part of him, the half that was so wild, passionate, almost on the verge of dangerous, but it was definitely exciting.
    "A month and twenty days," I replied, wishing with a pang that I didn't love the feeling of being in his arms once again so much. "I must admit that I did miss you..."
    "How much?" Ethan asked, undoing my bra and sliding it down my arms as he continued to gaze at me in an intense way that made me forget my shyness. "How much did you miss me, Jade?" he repeated persistently, cupping the side of my breast and gazing at me unwaveringly.
    "Lots," I admitted, biting down on my lip as Ethan's thumb grazed over my nipple, sending a jolt of dizzying intensity throughout my body. "It was just that I saw you with Jen like that and I didn't understand it." He began to trail light kisses from my collarbone to my breast and I arched my neck back, looking at the ceiling as realisation dawned on me. "In fact I still don't..." We'd gone almost all the way before, but I'd stopped Ethan then and I was determined to stop him now, realising I didn't fully understand what I was doing. I opened my mouth to tell him to stop, but a booming voice was suddenly cutting off my voice.
    "What the Hell do you think you're doing?"
    Both Ethan and I looked up to see Jeremy standing there with a look of irate fury on his face. Horribly embarrassed, I tried hiding behind Ethan as best I could, seeing my sweater still lying so far away in the front hallway. Following my gaze, Jeremy reached down, picking up my sweater and tossing it towards me angrily. I hastily put it on, not bothering with my bra. "Get away from my sister," Jeremy demanded of Ethan, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Now!"
    Their gazes were locked in a silent battle of wills, and Ethan didn't move until I placed my hand on his shoulder with a weary sigh. "You should go," I said, hating how he and Jeremy had gone from best friends to almost bitter enemies since Ethan and I had started going out. "We can talk later." He nodded stiffly and made his way towards Jeremy, having no choice but to go around my brother, whose face was like stone, hard and expressionless.
    "Don't ever come near Jade again," Jeremy growled dangerously when Ethan had passed him. "You're not welcome here anymore. Not after what you did to her." Oh, oh! I hadn't even realised that he'd known, but then it dawned on me that Jen would have readily flaunted Jeremy's best friend's infidelity in his face. No wonder he'd been so angry towards Ethan lately. "Just get out before I do something I may or may not regret," Jeremy said when Ethan paused with his hand on the doorknob.
    As soon as Jeremy had the door firmly closed after Ethan, he spun on me with a ferocity that took my breath away, perhaps because it reminded me so much of our father. "How could you let him do something like that to you, Jade?" Jeremy asked, the disgust in his tone undisguised. "He's worthless and a jerk."
    My pride and defensiveness flared, causing me to lift my chin slightly. "That worthless jerk was once your best friend," I reminded him coolly, hating that he would look down on me for something like this. "And I don't judge the girls you've dated, although even God himself knows that most of them aren't the type you bring home to Mom and Dad."
    Lightning flashed in Jeremy's eyes and I felt petty for such a low blow, reminding myself of Jen. An ominous silence settled over everything, and I think Jeremy might have done something he would have regretted if there hadn't been a knock on the door at that moment. I presumed it was Ethan, and apparently Jeremy was thinking the same thing for he turned around, yanking the door open forcefully and speaking through gritted teeth. "Look PAL-" He abruptly cut off and I curiously came up behind him from the couch, my eyes growing as big as Jeremy's when we saw two police officers standing there. One was a man and the other a woman, although both wore identical grim expressions on their faces.
    "Can I help you?" Jeremy asked.
    "Is your mother home?" The female officer asked; her stone-like expression not revealing anything as she checked the notepad she held in her hand. "A Selena Dilangelou?"
    "No," Jeremy replied warily, "I'm afraid she's at work right now, but I'm her son."
    Both cops flicked a sympathetic glance towards me before the guy cleared his throat. "Well, we should really relay on to your mother, but perhaps it's best if you know now. Your father is dead."
    "Dead?" I said, disbelieving, a shocked gasp escaping my lips before Jeremy could reply. "What do you mean? How can he be... dead?" The two cops looked uncomfortable, perhaps because I hadn't burst immediately into tears at the news. I was too shocked and stunned to know how to react.
    "We believe it's suicide, although an investigation is being done," the female officer explained. "He was at the subway downtown about midnight last night, and a man fitting your father's description left this envelope with the ticket vendor, asking that it be delivered to the address written on there." She produced a crumpled, dirty envelope that did indeed have our apartment address on it. "It is then our belief that your father was either pushed or jumped off the subway platform himself. Although because of the envelope, we're learning more towards suicide..."
    Jeremy's cerulean eyes were as wide with shock and disbelief as my own, but I managed to recover a bit quicker and reached forward mechanically to take the envelope. "What is it?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I looked at it blankly, still not shedding any tears. I thought I heard the female cop murmur that I must be in shock, but that was only part of it; I couldn't bring myself to shed any tears for that man. He'd made my life miserable and it wasn't as though I was glad to hear this news, but I couldn't weep for his loss.
    "We didn't check for the sake of your family's privacy," the male cop explained. "It might help our investigation to find out, however." His meaning was pretty clear and I flicked a glance at Jeremy who had staggered back, sitting down once his legs hit the edge of the couch. Realising he still needed to absorb the news that I'd taken rather swiftly, I opened the envelope and peered inside curiously at the contents that included a letter and a key with the number 17 written on it. "It appears to be a locker key," the male cop said, obviously bewildered. I was also curious but preceded to open the letter, startled to find that it was addressed to me.

Dear Jade,
I hate myself for what I have become. So much now that I have no desire to continue living, knowing how much I have hurt you. Please understand that I never meant anything against you, I even wanted to let myself love you like a father should, but I couldn't. I am not the one who should explain to you, even though you deserve an explanation more than you think. Ask your mother and know that I never actually hated you.
    Sincerely,
    Your father,
    Kyle Dilangelou

    My vision began to blur and I realised that I was crying, although I didn't feel any sadness for my father's loss, only hate. Perhaps he wasn't even dead; my mind kept telling me that over and over that this was just some sick joke to torment me even further. It wasn't enough that he had to destroy my self-confidence and strength, but now he wanted to claim my sanity as well. My tears were obscuring the words in the letter, and I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder as the female cop gently took the letter from me. I didn't resist, and that's when we heard the happily merry voices of my mother and Noel down the hallway.
    I didn't see anything of what happened, hearing only the two cops going to speak to my mother. Noel was ushered into the apartment and I went about putting her to bed, all the innocence and naïveté in her youthful face causing me to struggle against the tears I wanted to shed. I knew that I was more of a parent to her than our father was, but I also understood all the heartache and pain of losing a parent. Perhaps that was why I couldn't weep for my father's death, I'd already lost him long before, at the day of my birth. Kissing Noel's forehead, I eased the bedroom door shut and went to return to the living room.
    Just as a blood-curdling scream down the hallway pierced the night.

CHAPTER TEN

My mother did not deal particularly well with my father's death. Not that I expected her to, but it pained me to see the shadows under her eyes that were red from crying. I'd never really understood their relationship and I'd often even questioned it, but I realised now that there must have actually been love shared between them. I guess my father was only really a monster to me.
    The locker key mystery didn't turn out to be anything much at all except a cruel joke that made me hate my already dead father even more. The cops who'd come to deliver the news that dreadful night offered to accompany me to the subway station the next morning, since I was the one the letter was addressed to. I agreed and had to admit I was more than slightly anxious when they arrived the next morning, and I got to ride in the back of their police car. It was almost amusing to see the shocked looks of our neighbours as we rode along, but I saw the cops looking at me oddly and quickly reverted to my grim, solemn expression that mirrored theirs. I guess it was supposed to be like a funeral procession, so why did I feel like it was only some dark parade?
    Curious and anxious as to what my father might have left behind, I approached locker seventeen with my heart thudding within my throat. My hands actually trembled, but I managed to fit the key in and turned it before opening the door. All three of us leaned in to see what was inside. Disappointment and anger coursed through me like dark molasses because it was empty. My father had gotten one last jab in. "Somebody might have stolen whatever was in here," the male cop offered, obviously trying to be helpful. "We could always check it out…"
    I simply shook my head, and remained silent and brooding as they drove me home. So many tears were shed after my father's death and only pitifully few of them were mine. Jen bawled helplessly the next day when she found out and continued to mourn, although I soon began to have this nagging suspicion that she was only using our father's death as an excuse to stay home from school once it began again. Noel didn't cry, but she was as quiet and depressed as Jeremy, sensing the dark cloud that hovered over our family. I caught her looking at me curiously sometimes and knew what she was thinking; why didn't I cry? Why did I smile sometimes when the others didn't?
    Mom's mourning period seemed to draw on for an eternity, and I soon began to feel selfish and afraid, wondering how we would get along now. She didn't seem to want to discuss financial matters when I tentatively approached her about them, but things soon began to grow dire. We barely had any food in the apartment, let alone enough to pay the rent. Yet anytime I approached Mom about it, she would simply say she was too upset to talk about much of anything, and my guilt and shame for broaching such a subject would cause me to back off.
    Then there came the day that Mom finally got up in the morning, which made me feel overjoyed at the time, but I soon began to wonder if this was a mistake. It had been less than a month since my father's death, but she seemed determined to come out of mourning with a bang. "I think I'll go back to work again," Mom declared in a happy, chirpy voice that made me look at her oddly, but not because of the smile she wore on her face.
    "Mom," I reminded her gently, "you lost your job only two days ago. One of the girls came by from the club to say she was sorry, but they couldn't hold your spot anymore… Don't you remember?"
    "Well, darn," Mom said, a pouty look crossing her face. "I rather liked that job. They let me dance." She followed this with a child-like giggle that sent shivers done my spine and made me feel deeply frightened. Mom looked up, obviously seeing the look on my face, but my heart and expression softened when she began to cry again. "I'm sorry, Jadey, I can't help the way I feel. I feel so lost and alone now."
    "You still have me, Mom," I reminded her, hugging her tightly. "And Jeremy and Jen and Noel. We love you."
    Except I soon learned that sometimes love wasn't enough.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, isn't that what they say? Perhaps that should be my motto... Mom claimed she found a different job and at the time I believed her because she wasn't home much, but when no money - money I had counted on - came in, I began to grow suspicious. Our meals were more meagre than ever, Mrs. Delaney was breathing down my neck and to top it all off Ethan had decided to start treating me like some sort of charity case. Instead of superficial gifts like jewellery or candy he tried to give me groceries, and sometimes even money. My pride made me decline each time and I tried not to get too irritable with him.
    The money I earned from my job with Stefan helped some, but not enough. Mom began to disappear more frequently now, the days turning into weeks and I knew with a grim resolve that she wouldn't be any help. It was up to me and hopefully Jeremy, who also had his after school job. "You can't drop out of school, Jade," he declared firmly when I voiced my plan over a high fibre meal of hamburger helper that was more helper than hamburger considering I'd only been able to afford a small amount of beef at the supermarket.
    "It would only be temporarily," I protested, forcing myself to swallow a forkful of dinner that was a bit too strong in flavour. "Two weeks or a month max then I could return and you know I've always gotten good grades, I could catch up fast."
    "I won't let you do it," Jeremy said stubbornly. "What if it ruins your chances to get into a good school? Let me get another job."
    "They already work you like a mule at the grocery store and you have your own school to worry about. I'd be able to catch up faster than you, Jer, and you know it." I pleaded vocally with my voice and silently with my eyes. "I just need to know that you'll cover for me…"
    Jeremy seemed indecisive for a long moment, but with painful perfect timing, Noel began to cry. She'd outgrown her wailing little girl tantrums which made her display all the more heartbreaking as she looked to me with tears cascading down her beautiful cheeks. "I don't wanna eat this anymore, Jadey," she said, pushing her plate of reddish slop away. "I want real food like pasghetti and pizza. I want my mommy…Where is she?" Noel slide off her chair and came over to me, clinging to me as though for dear life.
    Practically in tears myself, I lifted her on to my lap as she continued to cry, resting her head against my chest. In an attempt to soothe her, I began to stroke her hair like Mom used to. "Mom has to take care of some things right now," I explained in a gentle voice. "But she'll be back soon and in the meantime I promise you tomorrow night that we'll have 'pasghetti'."
    "Cross your heart?" Noel said in a whispery soft voice that was even more endearing and painful in its hopefulness. I made all the proper vows to sooth her and met Jeremy's gaze over the top of her dark head as she began to suck her thumb, something she hadn't done since she'd been five. No words were exchanged but I knew that we were in agreement of my idea.

I wasn't proud of it, but in order to keep my promise to Noel I had to steal part of our spaghetti dinner. I only had enough for beef for meatballs and wanting to make it special; I guiltily slipped a can of tomato paste and a box of pasta noodles into my jacket. I mentally calculated how much I owed the grocery store and vowed to pay it later. My guilt and shame was appeased somewhat by Noel's happy smile over a warm dinner.
    Jen was furious that I got to miss school and she didn't, ranting and raving about how unfair it was. "You think Jade is doing this because she wants to?" Jeremy retorted with disgust, raising his sky blue eyes heavenward. "She's doing this for your sake, for ALL of our sakes!" Jen fixed her icy glare upon me and I sensed any sisterly bonding we'd done slipping away.
    "Saint Jade strikes again," Jen hissed at me. "I see and know how you do it now."
    "Do what?" I asked her.
    "Make everybody love you so much," she declared. "You commit all these selfless acts so that they really have no other choice. You care too much!"
    "Well, damn me all to hell," I said dryly, wondering why she cared so little for the wellbeing of her family. "You're going to school, Jen, and that's the way it is."
    "I agree," Jeremy added.
    This only made Jen whirl upon him furiously. "You always take HER side in everything. You ALWAYS have. I hate you, the both of you!" she declared venomously before running out of the apartment.
    "Well, at least we know she could always forget ballet and go into acting," I said with a sideways glance at Jeremy to see what he was thinking.
    "Yeah… right," he said distractedly, making the both of us sigh.
    Mom's disappearing acts lasted longer and longer each time, until she might as well have not existed; I didn't know where to look for her and while I worried, I also had bigger and scarier things to worry about. My venture for a second job was not going so well, but I didn't let anybody know that, not even my siblings. I had to give them hope, even though our meals were even more tasteless and meagre than ever. One night Jen absolutely refused to eat what was put before her and Noel quickly followed suit.
    "This doesn't even look like food," Jen said, eyeing her plate with disgust. "It looks like cardboard with something drizzled over it and I doubt it tastes much better. Why couldn't you pick up something good, Jade? You're useless."
    "Come now," Jeremy said jovially. "It doesn't taste that bad." He took a bite to prove his point, but even he couldn't manage to disguise how hard it was for him to swallow.
    "According to whose definition?" Jen asked, observing his reaction gleefully. "I'm hungry now, put something good on the table."
    "We don't have anything else," I forced through gritted teeth, my patience with her beginning to grow thin. "I had to buy this from the discount section."
    "It shows," Jen said nastily. "You get to skip school to feed us this sort of crap?"
    Jeremy opened his mouth to defend me, but I was already reaching across the table to slap my sister across the face. Tears of frustration burned at the corner of my eyelids as I shook with fury, half out of my chair. "I'd love to see you do much better," I seethed at her sarcastically. She gaped at me with disbelief, caressing her red cheek before running from the room. I sank back into my chair, my shoulders slumping in defeat as a feeling of self-loathing washed over me. I hadn't meant to do that; hadn't wanted to do it.
    By mid-March we were starving. I managed to placate Mrs. Delaney by giving her my mother's jewellery box that was filled with some half-decent pieces, but that still didn't solve the problem of all our bills and getting food. Electricity was the first thing to be knocked out, followed by heat. Tae Kwon Do had long since been forgotten, even though I kept my job with Stefan because it was a way to pay the bills. He questioned my absence in class, but there was no way that I could possibly tell him the truth. My pride would make me swallow my words every time I tried.
    The list of how much I owed the grocery store became painfully longer and eventually my desperation caused me to get caught. Luckily I managed to run away before the police arrived, but that only made it all the more difficult to get food for my family. I cried myself asleep every night, wondering how we would ever get out of this desperate situation, and I knew I wasn't the only one in our apartment wondering that. My question was soon answered although definitely not in the way I expected.
    Darkness always prevailed in our apartment now and put black circles beneath all our eyes. I was quietly playing with Noel, who had lost her youthful spirit and energy, when a knock at the door startled both of us. Her eyes widened fearfully as I looked up, as unused to hearing knocks at our door anymore as she was. Tiredly I dragged myself to my feet and went to the door, opening it on the safety chain and peering out into the hallway. "Can I help you?" I asked, seeing two men standing there. A yawn escaped me as I waited for their reply.
    "Is your mother home?" one of the men asked with a toothy smile that gleamed brightly in the dimness of the hallway. They were both dressed rather stylishly in nearly identical pinstripe suits, except that one was grey and the other was navy, but something still struck me as seedy about both of them.
    "She's in the shower," I lied, using the classic excuse I always did when strangers came by. "You'll have to come back later." I started to close the door, but a brown leather loafer was thrust out suddenly, preventing me from doing so.
    "We can wait," the other man, who wore glasses that emphasised his already large eyes, spookily said. "Why don't you invite us in… Jade?"
    "How do you know my name?" I responded sharply, feeling incredibly uneasy all of a sudden. "I think you should go now." I attempted to kick his foot out of the doorway so that I could close it, but he leaned into the door. My heart began to thump in fright as I leapt back, seeing how the chain and the wood were both equally strained. "Help me!" I cried out in fright. "Help! Somebody's trying to break into my apartment!" I backed away from the door warily, looking around for some form of escape. Noel came out into the living room with wide eyes as I was punching in the numbers. "Noel!" I hissed with a ferocity that made her immediately put her thumb in her mouth. "Hide underneath your bed and don't come out no matter what happens, you hear me!" She ran off, hopefully doing as I'd asked.
    My eyes dashed around the apartment, settling on the screen door. Racing in that direction, I kept my fingers crossed that I could make it to the balcony and up the ladder before they broke down the door. A hefty grunt was given as the door burst open, and I had to force myself not to look back, even as my heart gave a frightened lurch. Just as I managed to make it on to the balcony and was reaching for the ladder, someone was grabbing me. I started screaming again, but a large hand was clasped over my mouth. In terrified silence, I was pulled back into the apartment.
    "You think the cops will show up?" the man with the dazzling white teeth was asking, obviously fearful. Good, I thought, silently praying that they would just leave now. What could they possibly want, anyway? It wasn't as though we had any money or valuables worth taking. The TV was probably the most expensive thing and I'd pawned that off a long time ago. "Or do we have enough time?"
    Time for what? I wondered. The man holding me down also looked indecisive until he glanced down at me, studying me in a way that chilled me to the bone. The look in his icy eyes reminded me of a wolf and I squirmed inwardly, wishing I knew enough Tae Kwon Do to do something, but I was only a green belt and anything I tried would only make it worse. "We'll have more than enough time" was the affirmative reply. The man standing seemed to relax at this and began to remove his suit jacket.
    "Where?" he asked, looking around the apartment; obviously appalled. Had no one else in the building heard my cries? I wondered desperately. Why didn't anybody come? "Looks like they have a bedroom in the hall here." My thoughts immediately went to Noel, but I realised he was talking about the room that used to be my parents'. I was forced to my feet and dragged towards the bedroom, even though I resisted as much as was possible. A well-deserved kick that landed in one of the men's stomachs forced them to stop. I was about to attempt screaming again when my face was gripped rather roughly. "Now, don't struggle too much, sweetheart," he hissed at me. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to your kid sister now, would we?"
    How had he known? The shock of such a revelation should have made me put up the fight of the life, but instead it only allowed them to drag me stupidly into my parents' bedroom. I knew then what they wanted, but I wasn't able to admit it to myself until the other man removed his jacket as well. Tears began to stream down my face and I tried to plead with them to not do what they were intending, but my cries were muffled by the hand over my mouth. "I think she's frightened, Mel," the dark-haired man said with a chuckle, reaching forward to caress my cheek. "God, but you are a pretty, innocent thing," he added, licking his lips as I cringed from his touch.
    As though experiencing some horrific nightmare one woke up from in a cold sweat, the whole scene seemed surreal. Except that I wasn't going to wake up, this was actually happening, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. One of the men shoved me face down onto the bed that belonged only to my mother now. When I tried to get up he held me down and began removing my clothing even as I continued to cry and plead, my voice muffled by the blanket. Their hands on my flesh burned like brands and I shuddered. Oh, dear God; please make them stop, I prayed over and over. I was turned over onto my back, and what I saw there made me realise there was no escaping this. The two men wore identical expressions on their faces; looks of cruelty and lust. My arms were pinned above my head by one of them and my lower body was crushed beneath the weight of the other. Panic filled me like air rushing into a balloon when they tried to remove my panties, and I began to thrash like a wild animal. Somehow I managed to kick one of them in the face, but was rewarded with a slap rather than an opening for freedom.
    I could taste my own blood as my vision went fuzzy, but I didn't stop fighting them until my panties were ripped off and there was pain. It was excruciating, causing me to double over from it, and I managed to escape the grasp of the man holding my arms. Screaming hysterically and hoping someone heard me, I began to claw at the face of my attacker. A solid blow, much harder than the last, connected with my jaw and I stopped struggling. As though in part answer to my prayers, darkness mercifully took over.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I'm still not entirely sure how I managed to make it through those first horrifying hours after I woke up. The men were not in the room and somehow, perhaps with a sixth sense that all victims have, I knew they weren't anywhere else in the apartment, either. They had taken what they'd wanted and left. Gone away. Poof. Except for the fact that they'd left me bleeding and broken. Or perhaps not so broken since I managed to stagger from my parents' bedroom to the bathroom just in time to be violently ill.
    The intensity of the light in the hallway hurt my eyes. I can clearly recall the world spinning in an abstract, yet somehow geometric pattern as pain burst into my skull like a battering ram. I managed to ignore it only because I had to throw up even more. If my head was merely a throb, then my body was a nuclear explosion of agony. When my thighs accidentally rubbed together, I let out a cry for they were red and not just with blood, even though there was plenty of that caked and rust-coloured on my inner thighs. The telltale sign of a virgin; her sacrifice.
    I made it to the toilet on time and threw up all that I had in me, and more until I felt too weak to move. All I could do was to sit on the ice-cold linoleum floor with my cheek pressed to the cool porcelain seat, staring at the wall opposite the end of the counter. I was half-naked, but hardly even aware of it as I just sat there, time ticking by as it does, except that I was painfully aware of it. Every second that passed drew me closer to awareness of what had happened, except that I didn't want to remember it. Amnesia would have been a blessing.
    Instead of memory loss, though, I suddenly remembered something important. Forcing myself to my feet and ignoring the throbbing of both my head and body, I grabbed the housecoat off the back of the bathroom door, even though the gesture towards decency was almost absent thinking. Panic washed over me as I hurried towards my room, and I was near tears when I didn't see Noel at first. Recalling my hissed and urgent words, however, I checked under the bed and found her there, curled into the foetal position with her thumb still in her mouth.
    Sobbing with relief, I gently pulled her out from underneath the bed and onto my lap, rocking with her in my arms, although this I did not so gently. Clinging to her, I shed salty tears into her ebony curls, knowing that they hadn't got to her, but horrified that she'd had to hear that. It's ironic how as children we fear what's under the bed, monsters of lore; not realising that most of the genuinely scary creatures of this world lack green skin, razor-sharp teeth and walk around in daylight. Noel had not been harmed physically, but I could only imagine how petrified she must have been to realise the harsh truth.
    Despite my crying and clinging, the most my baby sister did was make a mewing sound, like a kitten, and wrinkle her nose discontentedly. I decided to let her sleep. After tucking her safely into bed, however, I didn't know what else to do. Call the police popped into my head immediately; they could help, but they could also tear my family apart. Our living situation wasn't exactly picturesque, in fact it was more grotesque, but I couldn't just let them get away with… Oh, God, I couldn't even say it to myself, couldn't bear to admit what had actually taken place. I sat on the couch for a while, shivering and chewing my nails beyond the quick until they bled. The taste of it filled my mouth, making me suddenly aware, and I knew what I had to do.
    Returning once again to the bathroom, which now reeked of vomit even though I'd flushed the toilet, I got immediately down to business. It was easier this way, to just execute my plan, like a robot, without thinking. The pain was a constant reminder, yet I somehow managed to ignore this. Using several Q-tips and trying to be purely clinical about it, I took swabs from the area that had been penetrated, hoping that at least one of them had some DNA on it. We'd learned about this kind of thing in science class and also from reading far too many books. If God were merciful, he would allow at least one of those authors to be right.
    I stuck the Q-tips in a plastic sandwich bag and then put it all in the freezer, because I also somehow recalled this would help to preserve the evidence better. Then I sat down to write a note to the New York City police, which was the hardest part of all because I had to go into detail. The first thing I wrote down was the descriptions of the men that had broken in, jotting down every last detail that I could recall. Tears threatened to spill over at any moment, but I managed to hold them back so they wouldn't wreck what I had written.
    Calling the police was out of the question, I knew, there was no way I could allow them to come here, so my only other option was to go to them. The knowledge that the men might return at any moment made my stomach churn, and despite the fact that I felt dirty, I forced myself to keep moving, to not quit until I made sure everything in my power was done to see those bastards get what they deserved. I was only fifteen years old, but not helpless.
    This thought helped me to summon enough courage to get dressed. I started to brush my hair, then stopped, surveying my reflection and realising that my appearance might make whomever I talked to more sympathetic to my plight. Upon returning, albeit very reluctantly, to my mother's bedroom with the intention of stuffing the sheets into a plastic bag to take with me, I spotted something on the night stand that made my blood run cold.
    Money. More than I'd seen at once in my entire lifetime, stacked neatly in new bills, mocking me with its filthy pureness. Before I'd had to force myself to feel anger, but the sight of those bills made pure rage course through my veins with refreshing alertness. Completely ignoring it, I tore the sheets off the bed, jamming them in a bag and marching back to the kitchen to stick the contents of the freezer in a container I filled with ice. If they didn't take my story seriously, there was no way they could ignore all the evidence.
    Cops were big on evidence, that much I knew.
    Gathering up a still sleeping Noel and everything else, I locked the door behind me, frowning when I realised that only the chain that held the door closed was broken. I was almost certain that I had locked the door when I'd slammed it, so how had they managed to get in? Deciding that now was not the time to worry about such trivial details, I knocked on the door to our neighbours, for once grateful that the lights in the hallway rarely worked; there would have been no way to get away easily without the shadows that hid my face. Judy seemed slightly surprised to see me, but she took Noel without too many questions.
    Promising that I would be back soon, I made myself walk away from my baby sister, which was the hardest part because I didn't want her to wake up in a strange place after what she'd been through, but there was no way I could bring her to the police station. With my head bowed, I walked the eleven blocks to the nearest precinct, hesitating only when I was actually outside of the brick building. Shivering in the wind for several long moments, I called on every last ounce of my Dilangelou strength and reached for the door handle.
    It took awhile for the woman behind the desk to finally notice me, but when she finally did, I had her complete attention. "My God!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror. "Sweetheart, what happened to you? Are you all right? Did you want to take a seat?"
    Unused to kindness from strangers, I nearly started crying again as I shook my head, tears still brimming in my eyes. "No, thank you," I said, my voice coming out in a soft whisper. "I just… needed to talk to someone about… some men who… " My throat constricted and I couldn't finish my sentence at all. Numbly, I handed her the letter. "It's all in here." Her face pinched in concern, the woman took it from me and I set the plastic container and bag on the counter.
    "Why don't you let me find someone who can help you," she said urgently. "We'll make sure you're as comfortable as possible and do our best to find who did this to you."
    I shook my head in the negative most adamantly. "There's nothing more anybody can really do." Steeling myself, I nodded towards the stuff I had brought with me. "These are some cotton swabs I took and those sheets are where… what it happened on. I thought there might still be some DNA on them or something."
    The woman behind the counter took both in with disbelieving eyes. "Oh, God, sweetie, I'm so sorry," she said genuinely when she finally looked back at me. "How old are you, darlin'? You can't be any older than eighteen."
    "I'm fifteen," I murmured. This sparked anger in the depths of her warm brown eyes and she started to come around the counter towards me. Hastily, I took several steps back. "I - I have to go," I said hurriedly. "I'm sorry. Please do your best to catch them, that's all I ask." Then, before she could stop me, I bolted out the door and into the street, running the entire way back to the apartment until my lungs burned and it felt like I would collapse at any minute.
    Once back inside our now deserted apartment, I was at a loss for what to do. I was painfully aware of the quiet, which was perhaps better, because I had to hide what had happened from both Jeremy and Jen. If Jen found out, there was no possible way she wouldn't tell Jeremy, and if my brother found out he would undoubtedly want to go to the police, which was out of the question. There was no way to fix the chain on the door, but that could be explained away as some other reason than what actually happened.
    The sight of Mom's mattress spotted here and there with my blood made me ill, but with some struggle I managed to flip it over and change the sheets. The damage to the rest of the apartment was minimal and I threw out the clothes I'd been wearing.
    Sitting on the corner of the newly made bed, I chewed my bottom lip absentmindedly as I stared at the money on the nightstand, the blood money that had been left like I was some common prostitute. My first instinct was to burn it, to make the stove as hot as possible and watch it go up in flame, only the thought of my starving family kept me from carrying that out. Instead, I stuffed it all into an old pillowcase and buried it under the mattress of my bed.
    Finally I was free to clean myself up, which was what I'd been longing for since I'd first woken up. The putrid smell of the men and my own blood clung to me like a sickening poison that I wasn't sure would ever really go away. Turning the water on as hot as I could and knowing that it would only last for a short duration, I scrubbed my body from head to toe until my skin turned pink in places. I didn't realise I was crying until I felt the sting of my salty tears on one of the spots that I'd rubbed raw. Even after the water went cold, however, I kept scrubbing myself until I was sobbing completely.
    With my arms wrapped around myself, I sank to the bottom of the bathtub, weeping like a child. I sobbed out all the frustration, pain and anger that had built up inside me until it felt like I was empty. After awhile, pure exhaustion swept over me and no matter how hard I tried to fight it, I couldn't stop my eyelids from drifting closed and sleep was eventually the victor, even with a hard, porcelain bathtub as my bed.
    Someone banging on the door awakened me, and it took me awhile to clear away the cobwebs of disorientation. After all, it wasn't every day that I woke up in the tub. Everything came back to me more quickly than I would have liked, but I wasn't given much time to dwell, because I realised that the person banging was Jeremy.
    "Jade," my brother's anxious voice came through the wood. "Are you okay? Answer me! Don't make me knock this door down."
    Easing myself into a sitting position, I stretched out my aching limbs that had stiffened up with nothing to cushion them. "I'm fine, Jer," I called back. "I just fell asleep in the bathtub, that's all. Give me a minute to get dressed." As I pulled on a pair of jogging pants that wouldn't irritate my skin, especially my thighs, I prepared to give the performance of a lifetime. I couldn't bring myself to look at my body, but I had no choice but to inspect my face to see how bad the damage was.
    Surprisingly, besides having no colour in my face, there were no major bruises, except for a purple lump on my forehead, which I was able to cover up with my hair. Maybe I could pull this off after all. I took several calming breaths before opening the bathroom door and preparing to see Jeremy. He looked up from the couch as I entered the living room, but didn't look happy to see me. In fact, he looked rather guilty, which confused me.
    "Where's Jen?" I asked, stifling a yawn. "I wanted some time to myself so I sent Noel over to Judy's." The more I lied, the easier it came, I realised.
    "I know," Jeremy said. He looked up at me, and concern made his azure eyes narrow suspiciously. "You look terrible. What happened? You're whiter than a sheet."
    "Thanks, Jer," I said with a dismissive laugh. "Way to give your sister a compliment after a long day. I'm just not feeling good. So what's on your mind? You look like you've just been caught with your hand in the cookie jar."
    My brother shifted uncomfortably on the couch, his gaze quickly drifting from mine. "I've done something I know you wouldn't approve of," Jeremy said and alarm rapidly washed over me. "I was only thinking of Jen and Noel, though, Jade. It's not fair to see them starve and wither away to nothing."
    "What are you talking about?" I asked, beginning to feel uneasy. "Where are they? What did you do?"
    "I called Dad's parents in California about a week ago," he confessed, shoulders sinking with what was undoubtedly guilt. "I didn't tell them everything, just enough so that they knew our situation wasn't the best for all of us. I tried to talk them into taking you, too, but they refused. They say they aren't an orphanage." This last part was said bitterly, but I barely paid the knowledge that the grandparents didn't want me anymore.
    "Where are they, Jeremy?" I said; fixing him with the steely emerald gaze he always crumbled under. "If you've let them take my baby sisters without at least letting me say good-bye, I'll never forgive you." All thoughts of what had happened earlier had vanished from my mind as my voice rose hysterically at the thought of never seeing Jen and Noel again.
    "They're next door. At Judy's."
    I bolted immediately for the hallway, pausing at Judy's door only to knock so my arrival would be known. They were all gathered in the living room, but only our neighbour and Noel looked genuinely happy to see me. "Jadey!" she exclaimed, and only I knew the reason for the immense relief in her voice. She ran across the room and threw herself into my arms, clinging to me tightly. "I was sure you were… dead," she said, beginning to cry. I stroked her hair lovingly, resisting the urge to cry myself until I resolved this with the grandparents. "Please don't let them take me away. I want to stay with you."
    "Ssh," I murmured soothingly. "Just let me talk to them and I'll see what we can do." Noel nodded, but stayed clinging to my side as I stood up to face my father's parents. "You can't just take them from me, you know. I love them more than you ever will."
    Both grandparents were the type that wore sailing themed clothes, even though neither of them actually liked the water. On this particular day, the grandfather was wearing navy slacks and a white shirt with a ship's wheel on the pocket. He was the kindlier of the two, with warm blue-grey eyes that were deeply lined and receding fluffy white hair that gave him the appearance of Santa without the beard. In personality, he was cheerier than the grandmother, but considering that she was like a bucket of ice water in the face, that wasn't saying much.
    The grandmother was tall and slender, seemingly frail, but she carried herself with such an incredibly stiff spine. Beedy eyes the shade of charcoal took in everything with distinct disapproval, and her frown lines were testimony enough to the fact that she rarely smiled. "With your father dead and your mother negligent, we have the complete right to take them," she informed me coolly. "Look how pale they've become, and the youngest one has a cold." I had half a mind to tell her that Noel's sniffles were because she was crying, but she quickly cut me off. "We can give them food, shelter and everything they could ever possibly desire. What can you give them?"
    It had always been in my nature to fight for what I loved, and her sneering answer angered me immensely, but even I realised that she was right. There was nothing I could give them, except love. Even my love, however, wasn't strong enough to fill their starving stomachs. "Nothing," I said in a whisper of defeat. My gaze slid to Jen, who looked uncharacteristically torn considering that she was about to get everything she wanted.
    "It's for the best, I guess," she said when she realised that I was looking at her. "I'm sorry you can't come, Jade, I really am. But at least Noel and I can live normal lives. I'll write you as soon as we get to California, I promise."
    "You should go," I said, smiling through my tears. "With your blonde hair, you'll make a better California girl. But you'd better write me."
    Jen nodded, coming forward to embrace me without any of her usual reluctance for once. I hugged her tightly, wishing that we'd had a better relationship, and vowing that someday I would repair the last thirteen years that had kept us apart. When we parted, Noel tugged at my hand, pulling me down to her level and I knew she realised that everything wasn't going to end with her staying.
    "Jadey, I want to stay with you," she whispered urgently. "I don't want to go with those people. Why can't you come with us? I'll go only if you do." That was the question only the grandparents could answer, and I gave them a pointed look. The grandmother just stared back at me unwaveringly, however, and I knew that even if they had relented to my coming, my life with them would be a living hell.
    "You know I'd come with you if I could," I told her earnestly. "Somebody has to stay here to take care of Jeremy and Mom, though. I'll come visit you real soon, though, as soon as I can, okay?" The tears streamed down her face, but she nodded. "You'll like your new home. There's plenty of sunshine and you'll get to go swimming in the ocean. It'll be great."
    "Not great without you," she said, hugging me tightly. I hugged her back, even harder, and we stayed clinging to each other like that until the grandfather cleared his throat.
    "We have a schedule that we need to stick to if we're going to make the flight back with the girls. There's no need to pack anything for them, we'll buy them all new stuff." He pulled out his wallet and took out fifty dollars. "Take it," he insisted when I started to shake my head. "We can't take you and your brother, nor is this enough to compensate for leaving you behind, but it's the least we can do."
    There was determination in his face, and after a moment's hesitation, I pocketed the money. "Thank you," I said. I knew that I had no choice but to let Jen and Noel go, no matter how much I wanted to keep them with me. It still pained me, however, and the tears streamed down my face as I walked with them downstairs reluctantly. Noel clutched my hand desperately the entire way and didn't let go, even when Jen had climbed into the backseat of the grandparents' car.
    "I don't want to go without you," she repeated again desperately. I had to reassure her several times that I would see her soon before she would let go of my hand, and four times more after that before she would get in the car. "I love you, Jadey. Always and always, forever."
    Standing there with the car door open, I smiled through my tears. "I love you, too. Always." It took all of my inner will to shut that door, and the finality of the metallic click was a stab in the heart. The grandparents bid me farewell and drove away, leaving me on the street corner to wave good-bye.
    Both of my sisters turned in their seats to stare out the back window and wave until the car was out of sight. Alone in a dark street with a broken heart, I shook with the cold and my sobs. At last I turned and headed back inside, trudging up the stairs to our apartment. Jeremy was waiting for me when I got there, but I shot him a look that quelled anything he might have wanted to say. "I don't even want to look at you right now," I said, completely exhausted. "I know I want be able to discuss what you did without yelling at you, so I'm going to bed. Don't try to follow me because I promise you'll regret it. Goodnight, Jeremy." My voice was completely cold, but I felt that he deserved it. He should have at least prepared me for the grandparents coming, even if he hadn't discussed it with me first.
    Moving past him without another word, I made my way to our bedroom, which Jen and Noel would never sleep in again. The sight of their toys and belongings saddened me, but I didn't give myself time to dwell as I crawled beneath the covers. Tucking them up around my face to shut out the cold, I was afraid that all I would do was think about what had happened on this horrible day until I fell asleep, but blessedly, exhaustion knocked me out right away.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The weeks that passed after Jen and Noel were taken from me were some of the longest and most dreadful of my life. Minutes passed like hours sometimes and other times I would just sit there, staring at and feeling nothing, then realise that it was dark when I finally came back to reality. Those latter moments were the worst, to lose track of time and know that you'd accomplished nothing by it.
    I didn't like to think about the rape a lot, but what victim does? My physical scars had healed, but the internal ones would always be there, deep and painful.
    My fear of the men returning constantly plagued me so that I developed a system to make sure that I was never alone. If Jeremy had to work, even if it was early in the morning, I left the apartment for a public place. I became a library junkie, trying to educate myself with my own curriculum, even though it wasn't nearly the same as actually being in school.
    There wasn't any homework, other kids my age and I couldn't even be certain that what I was reading would benefit me on any high school exam. But it kept my mind off things and made me feel like I was accomplishing something instead of just wasting whatever brains God had given me.
    My relationship with Jeremy was still on the rocks. He was my brother and I loved him, nothing would ever change that, but I still couldn't help feeling like he'd betrayed me. He'd apologised a thousand times over and deep down I desperately wanted to forgive him, yet my damned Dilangelou pride wouldn't let me.
    So instead we just went through the same routine after day after day with stilted conversations and awkward silences. Jeremy would go to work, I'd try to look for work (with non-existent success) or go to the library and we'd use whatever money he made to feed ourselves at the end of the day.
    Occasionally I would catch him looking at me with the most exquisite sadness in his clear blue eyes that were truly the windows to his soul, and an ache would build up inside me that wouldn't stop plaguing me for the longest time.
    Life went on like that for a short while, and we might just have been able to make it if our mother hadn't decided to make an entirely unexpected return.
    Each day that had passed without her had increased my resentment of her, as I'm sure it did with Jeremy, knowing that the person who had claimed to love us unconditionally had abandoned us. For the first little while I felt so angry towards her that I wished she'd come home just so I could unleash my pent-up fury on her, but you can only hold on to anger for a short period of time before it exhausts you.
    I didn't think it impossible that I would see her again some day, even though I'd come to believe that moment wouldn't happen until the distant future. Needless to say, with no preparation for her return, our family reunion wasn't exactly picture perfect. Seeing her again was entirely unexpected, but nothing could have prepared me for what came of it.
    Jeremy was eating breakfast at the kitchen table while I washed a few dishes when there was a knock at the door. The looks of identical surprise on our faces would have been almost comical under normal circumstances, yet nobody had knocked on our door for the longest time.
    He started to rise, but I waved him back down before hastily drying my hands on a dishtowel. "I'll get it." I can honestly say that when I opened that door that I hadn't the slightest idea as to who might be on the other side. It's rather sad how quickly somebody can slip from your mind when they've been absent for long enough, even someone you once loved.
    The chain still wasn't fixed (I'd told Jeremy that Jen and I had been chasing each other in fun one day and it had accidentally broke), but my brother was there so I opened it a crack and there she was. She looked just as beautiful as the last time I'd seen her, perhaps even more so for she was dressed rather stylishly. Her dark hair had been pulled back from her face in a bun, gold sparkled in her ears as well as on her fingers, and she was wearing an ivory business suit that consisted of a short skirt and jacket. There were rosebuds of healthiness in her cheeks and in her sapphire eyes.
    In comparison, my only pair of jeans without holes in them and good T-shirt seemed quite shabby. Seeing her looking so well made the initial hate I'd felt for her surge up again. I can't say that seeing her appear emaciated and poorly dressed would have made me happy to see her, but at least I would have known that she wasn't living somewhere, obviously perfectly content, without us.
    "Jade!" she exclaimed and there was a definite nervous twitter in her voice. Good. "Oh, how great it is to see you. You have no idea how much I've missed you, all of you. My dear sweet darlings. How have you been?"
    It took me a minute to sort out my feelings and I hated that. It would have been better if I could have just felt pure anger towards her, but the part of me that had once loved her wanted to fling the door open wide and cling to her like a child. Fortunately I managed to conquer what I considered weakness. "We've been just fine without you, thanks" was my cool response. I was sorely tempted to just leave it at that and slam the door shut, but I wasn't her only child after all.
    The smile didn't fade from my mother's berry tinted lips at my less than enthusiastic reception, but the moment grew quite awkward as neither of us moved nor said anything further. Finally I stepped back with a sigh, opening the door wider. "You might as well come in," I said reluctantly. "Jeremy might want to see you, at least."
    She stepped inside, looking around at the apartment as though she was a stranger rather than someone who had once lived there. Her nose even crinkled slightly in distaste, but she quickly smoothed out her features when she caught me looking at her. "Where's Jen and Noel?" she asked, probably expecting them to run to the door when they heard her voice. I doubted that would have happened even if they'd been here.
    "Gone" was my reply and I won't deny that I took vindictive pleasure in the way she paled considerably. Even I couldn't be that heartless, however, even to her. "The grandparents came and took them to California so they could have some semblance of a normal childhood and not starve to death." She didn't wince, but her gaze quickly darted from mine.
    We entered the kitchen and Jeremy looked up from his breakfast. I don't think I've ever seen quite so many conflicted emotions cross a person's face in such a brief span of time. Joy sprang into his sky eyes at first and he looked about seven years old again; then the sky blue faded to stormy sapphires while his jaw clenched; at last he managed to simply look cool and unattached.
    "What are you doing here?" he asked and I'm sure ice would have clung to his words if they'd been tangible. "You've been gone for a month and decide to show up now. Why? And please spare the 'I missed you' bullshit. Jade and I aren't buying it anymore."
    Even I was surprised by the pure venom in my brother's voice and I expected our mother to crumble like she used to, but I guess on some level she'd prepared herself for such a reunion. Her spine stiffened and she lifted her chin slightly in a defiant gesture that would have been amusing on someone less dignified looking.
    "You'll watch your tongue, Jeremy Matthew Dilangelou," she said more sternly than I'd ever thought she could muster. "I'm still your mother and I have missed you, all of you. And while I know that my actions this past little while have been… unwise-"
    "Unwise?" Jeremy scoffed, arching an eyebrow mockingly. "Nice euphemism, Mom, but I think selfish and weak would better sum up your 'actions'."
    I think it became painfully obvious to our mother just then that she had better say whatever she'd come to say in a hurry. "I've remarried," she blurted, forcing both Jeremy and I into shocked silence. "My new husband, Thomas, works on Wall Street and I have a respectable job as a secretary. He knows about my marriage to your father and has agreed to let you come live with us."
    Less than six months was all I could think for a moment, it had taken her less than six months to latch herself on to some other poor sucker. "I'd rather starve on the streets than live even six feet from you," I said, my teeth clenched in fury. "You leave us on our own to struggle or die, remarry without so much as a postcard, and now expect us to just forget it all and come live with you? Never."
    "I'm with my sister on this one," Jeremy said, rising and placing his cereal bowl in the sink. "Have a nice life with your new husband, Mom, but you can't have everything go your way. That's just something you're going to have to deal with." He hesitated a moment, looking between the both of us. "I have to go to work. Jade… will you be alright?"
    I nodded and he started to leave. "Jeremy," Mom said desperately, "please don't just walk out like this. I still love you and everything will be better, I promise. Please…" He didn't even stop and I felt a surge of admiration and love for him swell up inside of me as he slammed the door behind him.
    A plan had been forming in my head ever since we'd arrived in the kitchen and I'd realised that Jeremy would soon have to go to work. Part of me was completely opposed to it, but I decided that I might not have another chance to confront my mother. She had known them after all. "There's something I need to tell you," I said with only the slightest hesitation, looking up from the linoleum where my gaze had been fixated.
    "Anything," Mom said eagerly. "You know you can tell me whatever you want, sweetheart." I was going to, regardless, although I seriously doubted she'd be overjoyed by what I was going to throw in her face.
    "I'll be back in a minute." The money was still where I'd hid it, brought out in moderation with various excuses for how it had come my way so Jeremy wouldn't get suspicious. It made me nauseous to use what had been given in my blood, but a starving person has little choice.
    Mom had seated herself in one of kitchen chairs and I wanted to tell her not to get too comfortable. Instead, I flicked the small packet of money at her so that it landed in her lap. She looked down at it in surprise and confusion.
    "Some friends of yours dropped by," I said, struggling to keep my voice neutral. "They left that after…"
    I'd thought that I could get it out without crying, except my voice broke and the tears quickly brimmed in the corner of my eyes and spilled down my cheek unexpectedly. "After… they raped me," I managed in a whisper and then louder. "They… raped me and left money behind like I was a hooker who deserved nothing better. It was… Hell." That was the closest I could come to putting it in words, although I'm sure my bitter tone spoke volumes.
    Mom was out of her chair and embracing me before I could stop her. On reflex I stiffened, yet didn't push her away, perhaps craving the comfort.
    "Oh, darling," she murmured in anguish. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even realise… I told them not to hurt you. Explained that you were a virgin. I never imagined…"
    Even as I heard those words quite clearly, perfectly distinct, my brain couldn't seem to quite make sense of them, or simply didn't want to. When it did, though, a wave of horror and disbelief washed over me. "What are you saying?" I asked warily, pulling away from her and taking a step back. "Are you telling me that you… that you sent them?"
    That moment was a nightmare that I wanted to wake up from pronto. I didn't want to hear or know anything further because this wasn't happening.
    Like a trapped animal, my mother's eyes flitted right and left nervously and I think she didn't want to be there either. "Don't you remember?" she asked feebly. "We had that conversation that one night… You said you would be willing to do anything for the family and I thought… I never expected this to happen. You have to believe that."
    I hit her then. Not some sissy slap, but an all-out punch that rocked her head to the side and caused her bun to come partly undone. She cried out and backed away from me, holding her cheek, her sapphire eyes wide with shock. Standing there, my entire body trembling furiously, I didn't feel any remorse for what I'd done; it was almost like I had to do it or fall to pieces entirely.
    "How could you?" I demanded, the tears falling faster and harder as my voice wavered. "Even my father didn't hate me nearly that much and we both know he would have gladly seen to it that I was never born. Is that it? Do you hate me? Tell me what it is I've done that was so wrong that I deserved to be given to the wolves like a piece of meat. I must have done something to you so please give me closure so I can at least understand on some level."
    All my life I'd never let any of my family see me fall apart which was probably why my mother, who I'd lied to the most, couldn't seem to quite find any words. I was about ready to give up, though, tired of the hurt, pain and betrayal that came from being a member of this family. "And while you're at it, maybe you can explain why my father hated me so much," I continued to rant. "What I did that was so terrible he could hug my brothers and sisters, yet barely stand to look at me. What did I do?"
    I collapsed in one of the kitchen chairs, buried my head in my hands and sobbed out all my frustration and hatred, the latter of which I wasn't sure who to direct at: my mother or myself. There was only silence for a longest time and then a hushed "I'm sorry" before she fled from the apartment. It wasn't the last I heard from her, in fact the parcel that changed the course of my life arrived the very next day.

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Alessandra Azzaroni Sarah Ryniker, Ashleen Woods & Alessandra Azzaroni Ashleen Woods Sarah Ryniker Rebecca Gustafson Alex Simon Anita Sydelle Molli Moran Bunny Edwards Noah Lee Virtue Steppnewski Jaime Franco Leigh Mikage Goss Gem Kitty Yacomeni Sherry A Mauro

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