The Bad Sister. Kevin O'Brien
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Eden anyway?”
“Beats me,” Hannah sighed. She set her grocery bag beside the fan on the floor. “This is classic Eden behavior, disappearing for hours at a time and being incommunicado.”
Perry came through the living room again. He stopped by the window and got ready to close it.
“Oh please, spare us!” Rachel cried. “We’ll suffocate.”
“Some rain’s getting in,” he said.
“I don’t care. I can live with a wet floor. I promise, we’ll close and lock the stupid window before we go to bed.”
He gave a curt nod and then headed up the stairs.
“There better be nothing missing from my underwear drawer when I check later tonight!” she called.
“That’s inappropriate,” he replied from upstairs.
She grinned at Hannah. “God, I love teasing him. Anyway—that’s really weird about your sister. She’s been gone, like, five hours. You’re not worried?”
“A little bit, I guess,” Hannah admitted.
“Maybe you should call her.”
“She always turns off her phone. I think she does it just to be perverse.”
Still, Hannah dug her phone out of her purse so she could once again text her wandering half-sister.
That had been nearly two hours ago, and there was still no response.
When Perry had left, he’d reminded Rachel to bolt the front door. But they couldn’t, not while Eden was still out there somewhere.
Rachel had headed up to bed about an hour ago. Hannah had dug out the bedding from one of the boxes and made up both Eden’s and her beds. She’d thought of that line from her dad’s favorite baseball movie, Field of Dreams, something about, If you build it, he will come. In the case of Eden’s bed, Hannah had thought, If you make it, she will come back.
Now the bed was probably damp with rain in the spot under the open window. The curtains kept fluttering. Beyond the jail-like bars, Hannah saw another flash of lightning. The overgrown garden next door was briefly illuminated. She noticed the lonely, solemn statue of St. Ursula, unmoving against all the swaying foliage and flowers. The two Japanese maple trees on either side of the martyred saint looked like they might snap in the rain and wind.
Hannah glanced at the digital clock on the desk behind her: 12:26 A.M. She wanted to switch on the lamp and read a little. But she hated the idea that anyone walking by could see her in here—on the ground floor. Of course, who in their right mind would be out walking in this rain? Who, besides crazy people and her half-sister? That was just the problem. She didn’t want any psycho out there peeping in at her. They could walk right up to the barred window if they wanted. And she couldn’t close the curtains without stifling the cool breeze.
She really wished she were in her own bed at home, where it felt safe, where worrying about Eden was her parents’ job. Hannah couldn’t help thinking that the move to college—along with this sudden sense of responsibility for her half-sister—was turning her into her mother. Really, why should she give a shit if Eden wanted to stay out all night carousing? Carousing? God, she was even thinking in terms her mother used.
Beyond the sound of the whirling fan and the pelting rain, Hannah thought she heard a strange click—inside the house. She threw back her sheets and jumped out of bed. In her blue gingham summer pajamas, she crept out of the bedroom. She checked the kitchen—and the back door. Nothing. She listened for a moment.
A lock rattled. Someone was trying to get in the front door.
Please be Eden, please be Eden, she thought.
Hannah stepped out toward the kitchenette and paused by the bar. She noticed the empty champagne bottle on the counter. If she had to, she could clobber an intruder over the head with it. Biting her lip, she watched the front door open.
Soaking wet, Eden stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Her blond hair was in damp tangles.
With an exasperated sigh, Hannah stomped back into the bedroom, dug a towel out of one of the boxes, and returned to the living room with it. “Here,” she hissed, practically shoving the towel in Eden’s hands. She brushed past her, double-locked the door, and secured the bolt. Then she swiveled around. “Where the hell have you been all night?” she whispered. “And could you at least take off your stupid shoes? You’re getting the floor wet.”
“God, get off my ass,” Eden muttered, patting herself down with the towel. Her T-shirt and ugly yellow overall shorts were drenched and clinging to her. “What are you having a cow for anyway? It’s not that late. It’s only like ten-thirty Seattle time.”
Hannah shushed her. “Rachel may be sleeping.”
“Sounds like she’s got an air conditioner up there,” Eden said, lowering her voice. “I doubt she can hear us. I don’t think we’re interrupting the princess’s beauty sleep . . .”
She headed into the bedroom, and Hannah followed her. “Here’s a crazy idea,” Hannah said. “Why don’t you turn on your stupid phone once in a while? Did you even bother reading my texts? You’re supposed to call home.”
“I texted them about an hour ago, and they all texted back,” Eden replied. She started to peel off her wet clothes. “God, nag, nag, nag . . .”
Hannah plopped down on her bed. “Where were you all this time?”
“I told you—I wanted to check out the campus. I ended up having dinner at the Sunnyside Up Café. I met this creepy guy there. Or maybe he just seemed creepy because he was drunk. He’s a janitor with the college. He sure knew enough about this place.”
“What do you mean?” Hannah asked, concerned.
“He knew the setup, that we’re sleeping in this closet, and that Rachel has deluxe accommodations upstairs. Maybe she’s had him clean in here or something. I don’t know, beats me. Anyway, he also told me about a shortcut through the woods.”
Except for her panties, Eden stood there naked and ran the towel over herself some more. She didn’t seem to care that the window curtains weren’t drawn. “It started raining when I left the diner,” she said. “I almost took the shortcut, but then I decided, screw it. There was something I didn’t trust about that janitor guy. So I went back to the café. I had some coffee and started talking to a few of the locals. One of them gave me a ride to the gate down the street. God, I really need a shower . . .”
She wrapped the towel around her and headed out of the bedroom.
Hannah remained on the bed and listened to Eden climbing the stairs. She was wondering about the creepy janitor when she noticed Eden had left her wet clothes on the floor in the middle of the bedroom. What a slob. And it hadn’t even registered with her that her bed had been made. Did she think it had just magically happened?
Oh God, she thought, I really am turning into Mom.
This living arrangement wasn’t going to work out. For the sake of everyone’s sanity, Eden had to go. Maybe there was a vacancy in another bungalow—or in a girls’ dorm. Eden would probably be happier there. And she’d be someone else’s headache.
Hannah would talk about it with Eden in the morning. Right now, she was too upset to broach the subject. The two of them would just end up getting into a huge argument.
Hannah climbed under the bed sheet and turned her face to the wall. If she could fall asleep before Eden returned, she wouldn’t have to talk to her at all.
But Hannah was still wide awake when Eden wandered back into the room with a towel around her. Hannah wondered what kind of mess she’d left in the bathroom.
“You didn’t have to make the bed for me, y’know,” Eden said. “I could have done it myself.”
Hannah