Forbidden Sister Read Free Page A

be attending a strict private school if it weren’t for Roxy. She had been going to a public school, had been suspended for smoking and for cheating on a test, and, worst of all, was nearly arrested and expelled for smoking a joint in the girls’ room. It was one of the better public schools in New York, too, but according to what I gleaned from Mama, Roxy never had better than barely passing grades.
    The only thing she excelled at was speaking French, thanks to Mama. But even with that skill, she got in trouble. She would say nasty things in French to her teachers under her breath or even aloud, and whensome of them went to the language teacher for translations, Roxy ended up in the principal’s office, and Mama would have to come to school. She tried to keep as much of it as she could hidden from Papa, but often there was just too much to hide, and whatever he did learn was way more than enough to rile him and send him into a rage.
    Mama could get away with hiding much of it, because Papa was dedicated to his work at the investment firm. He was up early to deal with the stock market and then always working late into the afternoon with financial planning and other meetings. Mama said that her having to call him at work because of something Roxy had done was like the president having to use the famous red phone or something. I had no doubt that Mama trembled whenever she had to tell him about something very bad Roxy had done in school. She said he was so furious that he could barely speak whenever he had to leave work to attend a meeting because of something she had done.
    “It got so that your sister wouldn’t even pretend to feel remorseful about something she had done. She would just look at him with that silent defiance, just as she would when he would rattle the whole house to get her out of bed in the morning.”
    Even though Papa got up earlier than I would have to on weekday mornings, I was used to rising and having breakfast with him and Mama. She was always up to make his breakfast. I would spend the extra morning time studying for a test or reading. Whenever I did anything that was the opposite of what Roxy wouldhave done, such as be at breakfast with him, I could see the satisfaction in Papa’s face. I used to think, and still do, that he was letting out an anxious breath, always half expecting that I would somehow turn out to be like Roxy. No matter how well I did in school, how polite I was to his and Mama’s friends, or how much I helped Mama, he couldn’t help fearing that I would wake up one day and be like my sister.
    It was as if he had two different kinds of daughters. One was Dr. Jekyll, and the other was Miss Hyde, only he wasn’t sure if Miss Hyde would also emerge in me.
    “So what’s on for today?” Papa asked. It was the same question he asked me every day at breakfast.
    Anyone who thought that he asked it out of habit would be wrong, however. He really wanted to know what I had to do and, especially, what I wanted to do. My route to and from school was to follow Madison Avenue north for five blocks and then turn west for another block. I could do it blindfolded by now. If I had any plans to diverge from the route, especially during nice weather like what we were having this particular fall, and go somewhere after school, I would have to tell him. He even wanted to know when I would take my lunch and eat it with some friends in Central Park. The school let us do that. Even many of our teachers did it, but doing something spontaneously was very difficult.
    Maybe because of how angry Papa would get about Roxy if Mama slipped and brought up her name, I tried extra hard to please him. To get him tosmile at me, laugh at something I had said or done, and kiss me when he hugged me was very important to me. Although I didn’t come out and say it, earning this reaction from him was like telling him that I wasn’t and never would be like Roxy. Nothing made me feel warmer and happier than when he