Bad Girls Don't Die by Katie Alender Read Free Book Online Page A

of middle school academics.
    “Then your father can help you.”
    Dad was reading the sports page by this point. He looked up, bewildered. “What? I’m going to Jim’s to watch baseball tonight.”
    “Dad didn’t grow up in Surrey,” Kasey said. “It needs to be someone who grew up in Surrey.”
    Mom looked around helplessly. “I don’t know what to say, sweetie. I wish you’d come to me sooner. You should have sent me an e-mail.”
    “Nobody likes me,” Kasey said, staring down at her plate, which was overflowing with food she couldn’t eat.
    “Don’t be silly,” Dad said in his best “Dad” voice. Then he looked at his watch. “Better hit the road. Don’t wait up.”
    He hopped out of his chair, kissed Kasey on the top of her head, and patted me on the shoulder, which made me squirm. The only thing worse than parents who don’t pay any attention to you is parents who pat you on the shoulder on their way out the door.
    He didn’t say good-bye to Mom, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was staring down at Kasey.
    “Tell you what,” Mom said.
    Kasey looked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
    “If you can promise me that you’ll use your day planner and write down all of your assignments and let me know in advance when you need help, I’ll help you out with this extra credit.”
    Kasey perked right up. “I promise!” she said. “I’ll go get the questions!”
    Mom’s face fell. “Oh, Kasey,” she said. “I didn’t mean tonight . Sweetie, there’s just no way I can do it tonight.”
    I had to turn away so I didn’t see Kasey’s expression.
    “We need to work on our planning skills,” Mom said. It was the kind of thing she would say to one of her underlings at work, but in the sad voice of the disappointed mother.
    Mom shot Kasey a regretful look and then walked out. Her footsteps thumped up the stairs, and the bedroom door closed.
    It was just my sister and me.
    “Hey,” I said. “I grew up in Surrey. Do I count?”
    She looked up at me, her eyes heavy and dull.
    “Why don’t you go get your questions—”
    “I can take care of myself,” Kasey said, shoving her plate away and laying her head down on the table. A fat tear rolled down over her nose and landed on her sleeve.
    Feeling stung, I stood up out of my chair and headed upstairs, trying to figure out why that sentence seemed to drill right into me.
    Oh, yeah.
    It was what I’d said to Carter in the clinic.

I WENT INTO MY ROOM and sat down on the bed, facing the door. I was restless. Part of me wanted to let my sister cry it out. I can’t be Mother Teresa all the time, you know? She didn’t want my help. Fine. Let her work through her issues on her own.
    Right. So I wouldn’t look for her.
    I sat in silence for a minute.
    Okay. I grabbed my camera. Here was the plan—I would go out and take a few pictures, and if I happened to find Kasey, I might talk to her, depending on how I felt at the time.
    I slipped the camera strap around my neck and headed out into the hallway, making a lot of noise so she would know where I was.
    The dining room was empty.
    “Kasey?” I called quietly, stepping into the dark living room.
    No answer.
    I went back to check the kitchen—maybe she was sitting on the floor in the corner, eating ice cream out of the carton (it’s been known to happen).
    Nope. I opened the garage door. “Kase?”
    I heard a thump below my feet.
    The basement.
    I’m no fraidy cat, mind you. I’m very open-minded about snakes, clowns, airplanes, and many other things that scare the bejeezus out of most people.
    But I don’t like the basement.
    In fact, Mom doesn’t like it either. It’s the one thing we agree on. Going down there is highly discouraged on the basis of Mom’s having found a nest of black widows two years earlier. The spiders were long gone, and the exterminators, who dutifully show up the third Thursday of every month, claim that they’ve never been back, but it’s still off limits. I