Circle of Silence Read Free

focused. And you know exactly what I’m
talking about.”
    I cross my heart. A double sign—of promise and of locking it up
tight.
    “Excellent.” Marci grins. “And I promise that as long as I
don’t have to miss soccer practice or a game, I’ll do anything you want.”
    “I’ll cover for you in TV whenever you need it.” I tip my
lemonade toward hers.
    “Always and forever,” Marci replies, evoking our longtime
sisterly vow with a return tap of her glass.
    “Exactly the reason Bethany hates us.”
    * * *
    A little after six o’clock, I barge into the
bedroom.
    “Mom sent me up here to tell you it’s time to eat,” I inform my
sister.
    The Gaines family, all six of us, live in a three-story brick
row house. We occupy the first two floors. My parents rent the top apartment to
a succession of young professionals, none of whom seem able to hold on to their
jobs for very long.
    Our kitchen, living and dining rooms are on the ground level.
Three bedrooms take up the second floor. That means Bethany and I share, as do
our six-year-old-twin brothers, Jesse and James. They think it’s the best thing
since the invention of the Oreo cookie; I’d live on the fire escape if Mom would
let me.
    Right now my sister’s wearing earbuds. I know she sees me
because I’m standing over her bed. Still, she pretends she doesn’t.
    I lift the buds. “Dinnertime.”
    “Not interested.”
    “Bethany, if you don’t eat, Dad will start in on how you’re so
skinny and Mom will get crazy about anorexia—”
    “I’m not anorexic,” she whines.
    “I know. You eat plenty after everyone goes to sleep.”
    “That’s when I’m hungry.”
    “Tell it to the parents. Right now it’s your turn to set the
table. If I end up doing it, you wash the pans, whether you eat or not. It’s pot
roast. Emphasis on pots.”
    “I hate pot roast.” Bethany swings her long, thin legs across
the bed, kicking me in the shins before I can jump aside.
    “Jerk,” I mutter.
    “Asshole,” she says.
    I start toward my sister like I’m gonna kick her butt. She
takes off, which was my plan all along. Slamming the door, I throw myself onto
my bed, next to the window and as far from my sister’s as I can get it.
    Bethany Ann Gaines. Her long brown hair is barely wavy, as if
even her follicles can’t be bothered to curl right. She inherited Dad’s straight
teeth, though, never needing braces the way I did. But now I have a perfect
smile and Mom’s auburn hair, just red enough to give me natural highlights. I
keep it shoulder length like my fave TV reporter, Channel 5’s Emily Purdue.
    It’s not only looks that separate us. Bethany is, well, boring.
It would be totally cool to have a sister who scribbled angry poetry on the
edges of her homework. Or a computer whiz who didn’t have to ask me how to do
every little thing. I’d even take a boy-crazy chick with awesome taste in
clothes—but that’s not her.
    Then there are the twins. Jesse and James—my dad’s not very
funny joke—live up to theircollective fugitive name
by constantly getting into one mess after another. The amount of screaming,
yelling and arguing that goes on in this house would send shy Henry to the loony
bin for sure.
    There is, however, one advantage to a large family that
only-child Marci can never claim. As long as I make decent grades (I do) and
don’t get into trouble (I don’t), nobody’s in my business. It’s not that my
folks don’t care. With the chaos of four kids and two jobs, the parents are
overwhelmed.
    Which is the reason no one knew how destroyed I was last year.
Perversely, I stare at the ceiling and tick off Jagger’s traits. Egotistical,
manipulative and extremely charming. Pretty much a lethal combination. He has
this way of talking to you like you’re the only person in the world—
    My cell rings.
    “What do you think MP stands for?” Marci asks.
    “Not Marci Lee. Why? Who’s MP?”
    “Phil called. After practice, he and the guys saw