Unlocked by Margo Kelly Read Free Book Online Page A

myself in the mirror until the dizziness passed. My eyes were a darker shade of green than normal. Probably from crying. My eyelids were pink and swollen. I blew out a breath and reached into the tote.
    Mom had brought my favorite things from home. I lifted the items out one by one. Jasmine-scented shampoo and conditioner, shower gel, and body spray. My loofah scrub, my toothbrush and toothpaste, and my old treasured pearl-handled hairbrush. I left the clean clothes in the tote and selected from the items I’d set along the sink. I held the bristles of the toothbrush under scalding hot water. Then, with a generous squeeze of Crest, I scrubbed the residual sour flavor from my mouth. I rinsed with hot water and then brushed again.
    I tore off the hospital gown, gathered my supplies, and stepped into the shower stall. The hot water sprayed my face and obscured my tears. Dad committed suicide. What did that mean? Did it change anything? Jordan died in the car accident. And that changed everything. I slapped the wall and a sliver of pain shot through my wrist. I shook it out. Then I studied the bruise left by the seat belt. It was too tender to touch, and the spray from the water pricked it, but I only had bruises and sore muscles. I couldn’t say the same for my friends.
    I shampooed my hair several times until the snarls and knots disappeared. Then I covered the loofah with a generous amount of shower gel and scrubbed every inch of my body. I wanted to wash away the last twenty-four hours. I leaned against the shower wall and let the water pelt my back. I held my breath and imagined all my troubles flowing down the drain. My muscles relaxed, and I stayed there a while longer. I loved the solitude of the shower.
    Mom rapped at the door and opened it. “Hannah?”
    I stiffened. “Almost done.”
    Mom left and closed the door behind her.
    I dried off and wrapped the towel around me. I took another towel and mopped the steam off the mirror, but my reflection faded as the mirror fogged over again. I spritzed myself with the jasmine body spray and reached into the tote for clean clothes.
    Something pricked my finger.
    I jerked my hand away, and in the process, the tote tumbled to the floor. A three-inch hairy wolf spider scampered across the white tiled floor. I screamed and jumped up, perching on the sink. The neatly lined supplies hammered against the floor, and my hairbrush landed near the spider. He paused, but then darted toward the shower stall.
    The bathroom door flew open.
    “What’s the matter?” Mom yelled.
    I clutched the towel to my chest and pointed to the shower.
    Mom touched my knee. “What?”
    “A freaking monster-sized spider!” I hopped down from the sink and examined the shower stall. “It must have gone down the drain,” I said.
    “I’m sure you scared it more than it scared you.” She picked up the items from the floor and set the bag back on the toilet.
    “It was real.” I held out my finger and showed Mom the tiny red welt at the tip. She kissed it and drew me into a hug.
    “Couldn’t you have told me the truth sooner?” I whispered.
    Mom drew back from me. “I didn’t want the suicide looming in your mind.”
    “Why did we move to Idaho?” I asked.
    “I was trying to protect you.” She gripped my hands in hers.
    “From the truth?” I asked.
    “We’ll work through this, Hannah, but it won’t happen in an instant.”
    I tried to summon the courage to reach into the bag, but my hand trembled. Mom stepped forward and plucked a pair of white ruffled shorts from the bag. Before passing them to me, she shook them. No spiders. She did the same with a white camisole, underwear, and a sheer lavender blouse.
    Mom had always had a flair for selecting outfits. Throughout my life, she had said to me, “You never get a second chance to make a good first impression.” My temples throbbed, and images of my family’s parking lot fiasco in New Jersey came to mind. That outburst had repercussions.