After the Woods by Kim Savage Read Free Book Online Page A

Friendships evolve, Julia. Maybe you’re reacting to the fact that the Liv you’ve returned to junior year isn’t the same Liv.”
    â€œFriendships evolve ?”
    â€œWhat Liv went through was horrific, but it wasn’t half of what you experienced. Maybe she truly is okay. And you’ve just outgrown each other. I know that’s hard to accept.”
    I throw the knife into the sink with a clatter. “We’ve outgrown each other?”
    Mom’s shoulders freeze. She searches for a spot to rest the pan, but the counter is cluttered with paper bags, and the table is ten steps away. She’s trapped, and she has to listen to me. Because the black thing is here in the kitchen with us.
    â€œI mean, you have an inquisitive mind. A really, really good mind. And sometimes we look for answers that aren’t actually there because we don’t want to face the reality that things have changed,” Mom says.
    â€œThat’s a load of bullshit.”
    â€œDon’t be crude.” Her mitts tighten on the sides of the pan, and the fat underneath the chicken lists. “This is getting heavy.”
    â€œSomething’s off with Liv,” I insist. “You don’t refuse to talk about an experience, however awful, with the only other person in the world who understands what it was like to go through it. Nor do you start dating a half Orc. Suggesting that Liv has outgrown her friendship with me is your not-so-subtle way of implanting the idea in my head because you don’t want me to hang around with her.”
    Mom grips the edges of the pan. “That’s untrue.”
    â€œYou probably feel like what happened to that girl Ana shows how dangerous it was to save Liv. Like it proves some lesson,” I say.
    â€œHow could you ever say such a thing? I’m not a monster!” she says.
    â€œYou never liked Liv. I did the right thing by saving her, but you hate her so much you couldn’t even be proud of me.”
    â€œYou think you did the right thing.”
    â€œI know I did!” I step forward and Mom jumps. The pan tips and fat splashes across her left arm. She cries out. I cover my hands with a kitchen rag and grab the pan, and she bolts to the sink, wrenching on the cold-water valve. The smell of burned flesh and butter fills the kitchen.
    â€œMom?”
    Pain twists her mouth. She looks away.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” I say softly.
    She shuts off the water and inspects the mark, blazing pink. I set the pan on the table and spread paper towels on a spray of fat congealing on the tile. She blows at the burn while digging one-handedly in the junk drawer for wound salve. When she finally climbs onto the leather counter stool, arm slathered in goo, I hold my breath, waiting for her to say something bouncy, like “At least I’m a righty!” or “If you didn’t want chicken, you should have said so!”
    She blows on her arm. This time, her eyes are closed. Outside, wind chimes tinkle helplessly in the bluster.
    â€œMom?”
    â€œI’m always proud of you.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œI don’t hate Liv. But sometimes I do think there are better friends for you. Remember Alice next door? Whatever happened to Alice Mincus?”
    â€œMom,” I whisper. “I haven’t hung around with Alice since fifth grade.”
    Her eyes open and settle on me, the fine skin underneath newly crosshatched and gray. “A mother wants the best for her daughter. That is all. Can we just be quiet for a few minutes?”
    Deborah wanted things for Liv, too. Different things. The pageant career she blew when she had Liv, for one. Living in the Northeast stunted that, since pageant culture is more foreign to New England than sweet tea and hush puppies. Then there was the virtuous persona that Liv resisted. When we were thirteen, Liv got the idea to meet this guy she liked and ride the T into Boston to see a free concert.