The Poison Apples by Lily Archer Read Free Book Online Page A

wearing pink workout pants and refused to do their homework. Suddenly everyone was only interested in talking about cheerleading tryouts and the homecoming game. Girls I’d known for years were suddenly dating red-faced senior boys with bulging muscles. Boys I’d known for years were wearing white baseball caps and studiously ignoring me when I tried to say hello to them in the hallways. I was used to being teased and laughed at, but I wasn’t used to … not existing. I mean, it’s hard not to exist in a small town.
    And yet somehow I managed it.
    Meanwhile, my father had moved out of our house and in with Candy Lamb, who lived on the edge of town in a tiny house with her seven-year-old twin daughters, Randie and Sandie. I barely ever saw him. Since Spencer was always off doing a thousand extracurricular activities (one, she confessed to me late one night, was kissing boys) … there is nothing more humiliating than having your younger sibling kiss someone for the first time before you do … I spent most of my time home alone with my mother, who had undergone such a significant personality change since the separation that some days I barely recognized her. For most of my life, my mother had been a huge presence in North Forest. She was loud and social and constantly chatting with her friends on the phone or organizing huge poker parties for all the women who worked at Shear Bliss. Now she was more interested in watching television or cooking by herself in the kitchen. The phone would ring and she’d refuse to answer it. Our dinner conversations consisted mostly of silence. I’d ask her how she was doing and she’d say, “Fine, honey, just great,” but then I’d see that same glittering desperate look in her eyes. Our house started to get really messy. I left a bunch of dirty dishes in the sink as an experiment (my mother always hated dirty dishes) and she never scolded me or even reminded me that they were there.
    One afternoon I came home from school and my father was sitting on our couch. I hadn’t seen him in weeks.
    â€œHi, Mol,” he said.
    â€œHi, Dad,” I said. I put on my best fake smile. “How are Sandie and Randie?”
    He sighed. “Fine.”
    â€œWhere’s Mom?” I asked.
    â€œYour mom,” he said, and then paused. “Your mom is having a hard time, Molly.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œShe, uh … she checked in to Silverwood this morning. She, uh, called me and asked me to drive her there.”
    Silverwood was a small complex of white wooden buildings off the highway about two towns away. I’d always pressed my face to the car window and gaped at it when we drove by on our family trips. It was, for lack of a better phrase, a mental hospital.
    I stared at my father. There’s a point, I thought, where life gets so unfair that you stop even caring.
    â€œYou and Spence are gonna come stay with me and Candy for a while,” he said. “Okay?”
    â€œStupid,” I said. The word just came out of my mouth.
    My father gazed at me. “What’s stupid?” he asked.
    â€œEverything.”
    He smiled sadly. “You say the word stupid a lot, Mol. You’ve been saying it for years. But I’m never exactly sure what you mean.”
    â€œI mean stupid,” I said. “I mean dumb. I mean idiotic.”
    He sighed. “Why don’t you go up to your room and start packing up your stuff? I’m going to go pick Spencer up at her dance class and then we’ll all drive to my place.”
    I turned and started walking toward the staircase.
    â€œOh,” my father said, “one more thing.”
    I turned around. He held out a thick white envelope.
    â€œThis came for you,” he said. “But I think they might have the wrong person. It’s from Putnam Mount McKinsey.”
    *   *   *
    I heaved the last volume of the OED