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  hot, and then icy-cold. So she wanted me to

  leave her alone and go away? Well, she was in

  for a surprise, because that was the one thing I

  was never, ever going to do!

  Tears ran down my face as I switched off

  the computer. Why was I crying? I wasn’t sad,

  I was angry. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve

  and hurried across the hallway to my room.

  I slammed the door.

  I threw myself on my bed and hugged a

  pillow. My tears dried up as I planned how to

  get back at her. Soon I knew just what I was

  going to do. I could hardly wait. She could

  throw me in jail if she wanted to. I didn’t care.

  But she was going to be sorry.

  35

  Chapter 6

  Mom’s House

  When Mom drove away in her red sports

  car the next morning, I was sitting in the park,

  waiting. She didn’t see me. In fact, it looked

  like she was singing along with the radio as

  she drove past. She didn’t have a care in the

  world.

  Her car turned the corner, and I stood up.

  My fists were clenched. It was time.

  First, I looked around the park until I found

  what I was searching for – a long, heavy stick.

  I swung it in my hand. It felt strange. I’d

  36

  never done anything like this before. I couldn’t believe that I was going to do it now.

  But I was.

  I hid the stick under my coat and headed

  for Mom’s house. My pulse raced as I went

  around the side of it. There were weeds

  everywhere, and pieces of wood.

  I walked around the corner to the back.

  A gate led into her back yard. I tugged at it.

  It was locked, so I climbed over it. I was

  panting hard now. I almost fell as I dropped to

  the ground. God, I wasn’t very good at this

  kind of thing! I heard a car drive past, and I

  froze. Nothing happened, and after a moment

  I relaxed again.

  I walked over to the house. The back door

  was locked, of course. I took the stick out from

  under my coat and smashed in one of the

  panes of glass. Then I put my hand down

  inside. The key was still in the lock, and I

  turned it easily.

  I opened the door and stepped into my

  mom’s house. The broken glass crunched

  under my feet. The house was totally silent.

  37

  I could hear myself breathing. I gripped my stick in both hands and headed towards the

  living room.

  Thump!

  What was that? I stopped in my tracks.

  My hands were cold and sweaty. Was there

  someone else in the house?

  The noise came again. I felt dizzy with

  fear. Who was in there? Soft footsteps started

  heading towards me. I made a sound like a

  squeak, and lifted the stick over my head.

  I thought I was going to pass out.

  A small orange cat came into the kitchen.

  “Oh!” I gasped. I felt like an idiot! I put down

  my stick and leaned against the wall. My

  heart was thumping like I’d just climbed a

  mountain.

  The cat meowed and patted at my shoe

  with its paw. It wasn’t much older than a

  kitten. I picked it up. “You scared me,”

  I scolded. The cat purred. I stroked its soft

  fur, and then put it down.

  OK, I had to quit messing around.

  I thought of Mom, and what she’d done to me –

  38

  and I put down my stick and went into the living room. The cat followed me, like he

  thought it was a game.

  The living room was nothing special. There

  was a sofa and a coffee table. Across the room

  was an armchair and a TV. I lifted my stick

  up. I was breathing hard. What should I

  smash first? What would hurt her the most?

  Then I saw what else was in the room.

  It felt like someone had punched me in the

  stomach. I couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be

  true. But it was.

  Everywhere I looked, my face was looking

  back at me.

  The photos were everywhere. On top of the

  TV, on the windowsill, on the coffee table.

  There were dozens of them, and they were all

  of me. I dropped my stick and picked up the

  nearest one. It was me and Mom when I was

  about four years old. I had my arms around

  her neck, and we were both smiling. She

  looked young and pretty. Happy.

  I felt numb. I picked up another picture.

  I was pulling pink paper off a birthday present.

  39

  In another one, I was making a funny face at the camera.

  My legs felt weak. I sank down onto the

  sofa. Why? Why? She didn’t want anything to

  do with me, so why did she have my picture

  everywhere? Suddenly I felt angry. How dare

  she keep my picture around like she was some

  kind of perfect mom! She didn’t have any

  right!

  I’d smash them all. That would show her!

  I threw the photo of me and Mom onto the

  floor. I stood there with my foot over it. I was

  going to crush it with my heel, but I couldn’t

  make myself stamp down. I just couldn’t.

  I picked the photo up and threw it at the wall

  as hard as I could.

  The stick lay on the floor. I kicked it

  across the room, and started to cry. I was

  such an idiot! I might have known that I’d get

  here and then just chicken out. But I had to do

  something. I had to. I felt like I was on fire.

  There was a thick marker pen on the table.

  I grabbed it. I could smell the ink as I took off

  the cap. I wrote on the wall in great big

  letters, I’M GLAD YOU LEFT! The words looked

  40

  scrawled and shaky. I threw the marker pen across the room.

  “I am!” I shouted. “I’m glad! Do you hear

  me? Glad!”

  I started to really cry then. My shoulders

  shook as I gasped and sobbed. I sank onto the

  sofa, hugging myself. I was so fat. I felt like

  such a freak. No wonder she’d left.

  After a while, the cat crept out from under

  a chair and watched me. I felt bad that I’d

  scared it.

  “Come here,” I said. I put out my hand.

  It came slowly towards me, and then jumped

  up into my lap. I held onto it, stroking it.

  I was so tired. I felt like I’d lived a million

  years in one morning. I wiped my eyes and

  sank back into the sofa. I’d just have a few

  minutes’ rest, I told myself. Then I’d go home

  and never think about my mom again.

  I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I

  knew, there was the sound of a door closing.

  My eyes flew open.

  My mom was standing in front of me.

  41

  Chapter 7

  Secrets

  She stood staring at me like I was a ghost.

  She was holding a white plastic shopping bag,

  clutching it with both hands. I saw her read

  the big black words on the wall. She l
ooked

  scared.

  “Sarah?” she whispered, and looked back at

  me.

  I sat up. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t.

  “It was you,” she said. “Why have you been

  doing these things to me?”

  42

  My chin jerked up as I stared at her. Her hair was messy again, and her glasses looked

  dirty. “Why do you think?” I said. My voice

  trembled.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve

  been asking myself … I just don’t understand …”

  She sank down into the chair. The shopping

  bag fell open at her feet. I could see

  paintbrushes and pencils in it.

  Was she really that stupid? “Because you

  left!” I cried. “And then you didn’t write, or

  phone, or anything!”

  Suddenly I was on my feet, shouting at her.

  “You left and I hate you for it! And then you

  came back again and you didn’t even want to

  see me! I’m your daughter, you can’t just

  ignore me!”

  She seemed to get smaller with every word.

  “I wasn’t ignoring you,” she mumbled. “It was

  for the best.”

  “The best?” I opened my mouth and closed

  it again. I didn’t know what to say. “It wasn’t,”

  I said at last. I was trying not to cry. “It was

  horrible. You just left, and you didn’t say why.

  43

  Then you came back, and it was like you did the same thing all over again!”

  The cat had jumped off my lap when she

  came in, and now it rubbed against her legs.

  She picked it up and looked over at me again.

  “You’ve changed,” she said.

  I heard myself make a harsh noise,

  somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Well,

  duh! People do change in seven years, don’t

  they! If you’d been around, you’d have

  noticed!”

  She gulped. Behind her glasses, her eyes

  were the same brown color as mine. “Sarah, I

  couldn’t be around. It was impossible.”

  “But why?” I cried.

  I saw her swallow. “Because … I know what

  it’s like, growing up with that kind of mother.

  I was scared of what I might do.”

  I stared at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I …” She looked down at the cat on her

  lap. For a long time I thought she wasn’t going

  to say anything else. Finally she said, “I was

  afraid I’d hurt you.”

  44

  “Hurt me?” I didn’t know what she meant at first.

  She nodded. “My mother did, when I was

  growing up. She was always angry, always

  shouting. I never knew why. And then she’d

  be wonderful, and I never knew the reason for

  that. She got worse and worse, and then one

  day she attacked me. She had to go away for

  treatment. That kept happening to her, all the

  time I was a teenager. I was terrified of her.”

  My throat felt dry. I couldn’t say anything.

  That was just like I’d felt, with her, when I was

  little.

  She looked right at me. Her eyes were

  bright with tears. “I shouldn’t have gotten

  married, Sarah. I shouldn’t have had children.

  I’m just like her. One day I heard myself

  shouting at you … I can’t even remember why,

  now. But I remember how scared you looked.

  I wanted to hit you for it. I almost did. And I

  knew I couldn’t trust myself any more. If I

  stayed, I’d hit you, or – or worse. That’s why I

  left.”

  45

  It felt like the world had crashed in on me.

  “So it was all my fault, then,” I said. “You

  wouldn’t have left if it wasn’t for me!”

  “No!” She put the cat on the chair and

  stood up. “It wasn’t you. It was me. Sarah, I

  felt like I had a time bomb inside me! I heard

  voices inside me, telling me things … I had to

  get out; I didn’t want you to suffer the way I

  did.”

  “But you could have explained!” I yelled.

  Tears ran down my cheeks, and I swiped

  angrily at them. “You could have said

  something – kept in touch – ”

  She snorted. “What was I supposed to say?

  ‘I’m as crazy as my mom, so you’re better off

  without me’?”

  I felt cold with fear. “You’re not crazy,”

  I whispered.

  My mom smiled sadly. “Sarah, I spent over

  five years in a mental hospital.”

  Oh, my God! I thought. “But … but you

  seem OK now,” I stammered.

  46

  She ran her hands over her arms. “Yes, I’m better, but I don’t … I don’t handle stress well.

  I start thinking all kinds of things. They seem

  so real to me, but …”

  She took a deep breath. “Anyway, I – I

  wouldn’t be able to get a job, or anything like

  that. I’m on what’s called an outpatient

  program. That’s the reason I’m in Midland –

  it’s close to the hospital that runs it. They run

  an art program … art is supposed to be good

  for you.” She tried to smile. She looked down

  at the plastic bag, and touched it with her foot.

  “I’ve been spending most of my time there.”

  Suddenly I felt almost sorry for her. She

  looked so small and alone. “Well, you – you

  must be getting better, right? Or else they

  wouldn’t let you live here, or drive a car or

  anything. Or – or have a cat.”

  “I guess.” She sat down again, like she was

  too tired to say anything else. The cat jumped

  to the floor and started to wash itself.

  “Mom?” I moved closer to her, and touched

  her arm.

  47

  My mother looked startled. She put her hand over mine and squeezed it. Then she

  quickly let go. “I think – I think you should go

  now,” she said.

  “Can I come and see you again?” I blurted

  out. Where had that come from? I didn’t

  know, but I knew that that was what I wanted.

  She hadn’t been right to just leave us, but at

  least I sort of understood it now. I didn’t want

  to lose her again.

  Mom didn’t answer. She looked at the

  words I’d written on her wall. I’M GLAD YOU

  LEFT!

  “Are you sure you want to?” she said at

  last. “I’m not much of a prize, Sarah.” She

  looked so small, sitting there in that chair.

  “That’s OK,” I said. “I’m not much of a

  prize, either.”

  She really smiled then, for the first time

  since I’d seen her. It made her look young and

  pretty. “That’s not true,” she said. “And I

  don’t deserve you, but if you really want to

  come and visit me sometimes … then OK.”

  48

  When I got off the bus that afternoon, I went to McDonald’s like last time. I bought a

  bag of fries and sat on a bench outside eating

  them. Did Dad know that Mom had been in a

 
; mental hospital? I ate the fries slowly as I

  thought about it. I didn’t think he did. He

  must have been just as confused as I was when

  she left.

  It must have been so awful for him.

  School was out by then, and kids were

  walking past. Some of them stared at me, but

  this time I didn’t bother to glare back. They

  could think what they wanted. I didn’t care

  any more.

  Then I saw Beth walk by. She looked at me

  and quickly went on walking. I don’t know

  why, but I waved to her. “Beth!” I shouted.

  “Come here!”

  She came slowly over to me. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.” I remembered how mean I’d been to

  her. I wanted to say I was sorry, but I didn’t

  know how. I held out the bag of fries. “Here,” I

  said. “D’you want one?”

  49

  “Thanks.” She sat down beside me and helped herself. She pushed back her limp

  blonde hair and gave me a shy grin. “You

  weren’t in school again today.”

  “No.” I looked down at the bag of fries. I

  wanted to tell her the truth. “I was with my

  mom. She’s – she’s been sick.”

  “Oh,” said Beth. She looked puzzled, but

  she didn’t ask any questions. I was glad.

  I wanted to talk about it … but not yet.

  Anyway, I had to talk to Dad first. I needed to

  tell him what had happened – everything I’d

  done. There had been too many secrets

  between us.

  I reached for another fry, and then I

  stopped. For some reason I wasn’t very

  hungry. I closed the bag. I’d eat them later,

  maybe.

  I looked over at Beth again. I started to

  ask her something, and then bit my lip. She

  might tell me to take a flying leap. But I had

  to ask her anyway. I took a deep breath.

  “Hey, Beth … do you still want to be

  partners for that English project?”

  50

  She looked surprised. “I thought you didn’t want to,” she said.

  My face went hot. “Look, um … I was kind

  of a jerk before. I’m sorry, OK?” My voice

  sounded angry, but I wasn’t. I just felt so

  stupid. But Beth didn’t seem to notice that I

  had snapped at her.

  “OK,” she said. She smiled at me. “We’ll be

  partners, then. I’d really like that.”

  I felt happy deep inside me, like it was my

  birthday. I grinned back at her. “Yeah,” I said.

  “I’d like it, too.”

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  Crow Girl

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