Axel narrowed his eyes. “Reb’s not boring,” he yelled. “She still got a cast on her hand, stupid. Rule hurt her bad and if you ever talk about my sister again, I won’t never talk to you.” Throwing her a look of disgust, he turned and stormed off, not bothering with the pool or the playlist.
Folding her arms, Winnie walked to a chaise lounge, burst into loud tears, and face-planted.
An hour later, Harley absorbed the silence of her suite. Mommie and Daddy designed all the bedrooms in the kid’s wing to be north facing for its consistently soft lighting, which Harley appreciated, although she preferred her bedroom at home. Despite its bigger size, she didn’t like the black and white color scheme, colors that Mommie said went with anything in case Harley ever changed her curtains or comforter.
Normally, when Rebel and Mattie visited with Harley, they slept in the white bunk room, right down the hall. All three of them had their own rooms but chose to sleep in the bunks because of Winnie.
After their mad escape yesterday afternoon, Reb, Mattie, Brynn Mason, and Winnie sat in the rec area, but didn’t invite Harley, so she’d trudged to her room. Later, Aunt Zoann came and kissed her goodnight, but no one else.
During breakfast, everyone except Rebel was civil to her. No, scratch that. Rebel wasn’t uncivil. She just ignored Harley altogether.
Now, she sat in her room–alone. The peace and solitude should’ve comforted her. She was out of the range of Nardo’s fists and vitriol and away from Pillar of Earth’s demands. But her isolation and loneliness was about to drive her insane, aided by the pain and humiliation of Nardo’s abuse and Pillar of Earth’s threats.
Drawing in deep breaths, Harley thought about asking one of her aunts or her grandmother if they had a way to play music. They didn’t own CD players because they all relied on digital entertainment.
“Knock, knock,” Aunt Zoann called, the words accompanied by a tap on Harley’s door. “Are you in there, Harley?”
She jumped to her feet and ran to the door. Pasting a smile on her face, she opened it and stepped aside.
Aunt Zoann held up a makeup travel case but didn’t come into the room. “Feel like a little company?”
Harley swallowed back the tears suddenly lurking in her eyes and nodded.
“Oh, baby.” Aunt Zoann hugged her. “Everything will be fine, Harley.”
“Everything feels upside down, Aunt Zoann,” Harley said, clinging to her.
“Come on.” Releasing Harley, Aunt Zoann walked into the room and sat the case on her desk. “If you don’t feel like mani/pedis, we can sit and talk.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“We can also go over your lines for your play. I can’t wait until everyone hears your solo. You have a beautiful voice.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what our production of Romeo and Juliet has turned into. A musical hip-hop revamp? It’s unrecognizable."
“Thank God for small favors,” Aunt Zoann retorted.
Harley smiled. “You don’t like Shakespeare either?”
“That’s Kendall and Mattie’s forte, baby. And yours.”
“It used to be CJ’s,” Harley said morosely.
Aunt Zoann nodded. “He did anything to make you happy, although I think he does like The Bard.”
“Does Ryan?”
A small smile tipped Aunt Zoann’s lips. “Did you ask him?”
“No,” Harley said, flushing. She looked at her toes. “I-I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for, baby?”
Harley didn’t know. She’d gotten so used to saying sorry, it just came naturally. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I-I’m just in a lot of pain.”
“I know,” Aunt Zoann said, mistaking Harley’s meaning.
When Aunt Zoann signed Harley out of school, she’d just had a run-in in a theater closet with Nardo.
