Such a Pretty Girl by Laura Wiess Read Free Book Online Page B

instead of the front he’ll spot me immediately and it’ll all be over. Feverishly, I wonder how much time the lock will buy me and know it won’t be much. Minutes? Seconds? My father is already suspicious; how long will he wait to break into my room when I don’t respond?
    The answer comes almost immediately.
    “What the…?” His astonished voice floats out of my bedroom window and through the morning air.
    “What is it, Charles?” my mother says. “Oh my…someone broke in?”
    “Not in, you idi—” My father stops and then, “Meredith? Meredith?”
    His voice is much clearer now and I imagine him poking his head out of the torn screen, scanning the area, searching for me.
    “Charles, what are you doing?” my mother asks. “I thought you said Meredith was taking a shower. Where are you going?”
    “Out to find her,” he says, his voice fading.
    I shrink closer to the door, hammering again with my knuckles. Come on, Ms. Mues. Come on. Come on. I cup my hands around my eyes and peer in through the crack in the curtains. The kitchen is empty.
    Of course it is. She’s in her room packing for Iowa or in the bathroom imprisoned by cramps or—
    A shadow cuts through the kitchen.
    I straighten as Ms. Mues shuffles toward the door. Cast a nervous glance over my shoulder.
    The curtains twitch apart. She peers out, her nonprescription glasses magnifying her perfect 20/20-vision eyes into giant boiled eggs, and her moon face creases in a smile.
    “Well, good morning, Mer—” she begins, opening the door.
    “Shh,” I hiss, plowing straight into her and rudely herding her backward into her own kitchen. I ease the door closed behind me, hearing, as I do, the sharp, angry crack of my front door slamming. “My father’s after me.” My composure takes a header and I’m caught in a full-body tremor. “He…he…he…”
    “Not in here,” she says, wrapping her great arm around my quaking shoulders, sweeping me out of the kitchen and away from the windows. “We’ll go into Andy’s room, honey, and you can tell us both exactly what’s going on.”
    We are halfway down the hallway when the knocking begins.

Chapter Nine
     
    H e didn’t see me come in here, I know he didn’t,” I babble. “I didn’t tell him about you guys, I swear. He must be going door to door.”
    “I see.” Her face pales, but her composure doesn’t falter. “Well, I’m not as ready for this as I wanted to be, but with any luck he’ll never even know it’s me.” She nods and squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t you worry, honey. I’ll take care of it.”
    “Yes. Okay.” I can’t stop shivering even though her bulky body and unflappable attitude comforts me in a way I’m just beginning to understand.
    Andy and his mother are not “that fat slob Jesus freak and her crippled kid,” as my mother so ignorantly calls them whenever she’s forced to acknowledge their existence. One of the many things my mother doesn’t realize is that Ms. Paula Mues is actually Mrs. Paula Beecher, the same widow my father cheated on her with so many years ago. She doesn’t realize it because Paula Beecher was a slim, doe-eyed brunette in blue jeans and T-shirts, a technical engineer who’d done a stint in the army and backpacked the Appalachian Trail.
    I’ve seen Ms. Mues’s old pictures, so I know how completely the extra weight, gray-streaked hair, and black-framed magnifying glasses have altered her appearance. Ever since learning about Andy’s molestation at my father’s hands, Ms. Mues has devoted her life to atoning for the tragedy and somehow smiting her enemy, which is why she changed her looks, went back to her maiden name, and followed us to Cambridge Oaks.
    When it comes to my father, Paula Mues and forgiveness have completely parted company.
    The knocking continues.
    “You go on into Andy’s room and don’t come out no matter what you hear,” she says. “And don’t let him come out, either.”
    “What’re you gonna