Page 83 of Shy Girls Can't Date Rockstars
Funny? Like how she said she wouldn’t speak ill of the dead?
“She wrote me off, Alice. Decided I was too much trouble and deleted me from her life.” Miranda smooths her jacket sleeve. “I always thought she’d regret it. I suppose now she can’t.”
“How can you talk about her so callously like that?” I say, my voice wavering. “She was a good person and a good mother. She loved me.”
“Oh, she loved you. That’s clear. But love was the only currency your mother had, and it didn’t go very far.” Miranda’s eyes move over me slowly, appraisingly. “You’re proof of that.”
I stand, my chemistry book tumbling to the floor. “What are you talking about? At least my mother felt something. At least she cared about people more than her career.”
Something angry flashes across Miranda’s face.
“You asked me the other night what happened between us,” my aunt’s voice hastens. “You wanted to know why we didn’t speak for twelve years.”
My heart pounds. “Yes.”
“She accused me of exactly what you just did,” Miranda’s voice is cold and precise. “Said I cared more about my career than family.”
“Maybe she was right.”
Miranda’s head tilts back as she unleashes an ugly laugh. “Maybe she was. But I built a life for myself. I survived. Where is she now?”
The cruelty of it steals my breath. “She’s dead, Miranda. She died.”
“And I didn’t.” Miranda’s eyes are hard, glittering. “I have survived because I understand feelings are a luxury, not a foundation.”
“You didn’t even come to her funeral!” The words explode out of me. “She was your only sister! Your only family!”
“Look around.” Miranda’s voice rises to match mine. “This is real life. We have real stress and critical decisions to make. I’m here, not only worrying about my livelihood, but the livelihood of my clients too.”
I retch. Her precious clients.
“I’m in the middle of negotiations that can’t be postponed. Sarah would have…” She stops herself. “Actually, no. She wouldn’t have understood. Sarah made her choices, and I made mine.”
“My parents just died!” I scream, tears streaming down my face. “Don’t you feel anything?”
“Feel?” Miranda almost spits the word. “What good would that do? Your parents drove head-on into a storm, Alice. Did they feel something when they made that choice? Did they stop to think about you?”
“It was an accident!”
“It was carelessness!” Miranda snaps. “Sarah always berated me for making risky decisions. She chose to play it safe and live small. But in the end, it didn’t protect her or you, did it?”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t process what she’s saying.
“Your parents acted rashly and didn’t think about the consequences. They left you—leftme—to deal with the aftermath of their poor judgment.“ Every word becomes more venomous as she speaks. “I took you in. I saved you from the foster care system. But frankly, you’re becoming more trouble than you’re worth.”
As I splutter my shock at her words, something almost apologetic flashes across my aunt’s eyes.
Miranda straightens her jacket, her composure returning like armor. “This is like dealing with your mother all over again. Alice, I said I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to speak ill of the dead.”
Before I can catch them, tears stream down my face.
“No good will come from me comparing you to Sarah,” Miranda says, careful not to make eye contact with me. “I think it’s best you go to your room before we say anything we truly regret.”
The gasp inflames my raw throat. There’s more? Worse than what she’s already said?
“And starting tomorrow,” Miranda continues, flipping through her planner as if she hasn’t utterly devastated me, “you will attend every single class. You will sit for the entire period. You will do your homework and be the student your transcripts claimed you were. Is that clear?”
I can’t answer. I can’t do anything but stumble backward.
