The Stepsister Read online

  The battle heated up when Nancy finally got her can to work. The only problem was, they were all laughing too hard now to aim accurately.

  “You look ridiculous!” Jessie cried to Emily.

  “You both look ridiculous! I look dignified!” Nancy declared.

  “Get her!” Emily cried, letting loose a giant blast of whipped cream.

  The great battle ended a few minutes later when all three cans were empty. “Now we can’t have any cake,” Emily complained.

  “That’s okay,” Jessie said. She scooped a pile of whipped cream off her sweatshirt and sucked it into her mouth. “I’m pretty full, actually.”

  “I’ve got to take a shower,” Emily said, feeling the sticky stuff in her hair.

  “We all do,” Nancy said. She was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by whipped cream.

  “First we’d better clean up,” Emily said.

  “Tell you what,” Jessie said to her, taking another mouthful of whipped cream. “You take the first shower. I’ll start the cleanup. When you’re done, come downstairs and help me finish.”

  “Really? Great!” Emily said. “Thanks, Jessie. You’re a pal.”

  Emily pulled off her sneakers so she wouldn’t track whipped cream all over the house and headed upstairs to take her shower. That was really nice of Jessie, she thought. She really is making an effort to make up for last week. It’s like she’s a changed person. I like this Jessie much better.

  The hot water felt so good. Emily let it run through her hair for a long time. Amazing how quickly whipped cream starts to clot, she thought, rubbing in a big handful of shampoo.

  I could stay in here forever, she thought. It’s so warm and steamy.

  But she remembered that Jessie was waiting for her to come downstairs and help, so she finished shampooing her hair, washed quickly, and stepped out of the shower. Humming to herself, feeling very refreshed, she walked over to the mirror. It was steamed up, rivulets of water trickling down.

  Emily picked up a towel and rubbed it across the mirror to wipe away the steam. She peered into the mirror.

  Then she screamed.

  And screamed again.

  She had the feeling she might never stop screaming.

  Chapter

  6

  Emily’s New Look

  Emily was still screaming when the bathroom door swung open. Nancy, looking very frightened, burst into the steamy bathroom, followed by a gust of cold air.

  “Em—what’s the matter?”

  “My hair! My hair!” Emily shrieked, pulling wildly at her wet, tangled hair with both hands, staring into the mirror.

  “Here—put this on.” Nancy slipped a bathrobe over Emily’s shoulders. “Go ahead. Pull it tight.”

  “My hair! Look at my hair!”

  “Emily, stop screaming like that. Please—take your hands away so that I can see what you’re talking about.”

  Emily lowered her hands to tie the robe. She shivered from the cold air entering the bathroom through the open door.

  Their mother hurried in, followed by Jessie and Mr. Wallner. They all had to squeeze into the small, narrow bathroom.

  “Em—your hair! What did you do?” Mrs. Wallner cried.

  They could all see the ugly orange and yellow splotches and streaks.

  “What did I do?!” Emily exploded. “I didn’t do anything! And look!”

  “How strange!” Mr. Wallner said, coming close to examine her hair.

  “It’s ruined forever!” Emily wailed, turning away from the mirror.

  “You’ve bleached it somehow,” Mrs. Wallner said, holding a strand in her fingers, pulling it up close to her face.

  “Me? Why do you keep saying I did it?” Emily shrieked. “All I did was shampoo my hair. And now look—”

  The left side was almost entirely orange. The front was streaked with uneven lines of greenish yellow. The rest of her hair was dotted with blotches of orange and yellow.

  “It—it’s ruined. My hair is ruined!” Emily cried, keeping her head lowered so she wouldn’t have to see herself in the mirror.

  Mrs. Wallner put her arms around her daughter and tried to comfort her.

  “How weird,” Jessie said from near the door.

  Mr. Wallner had picked up the plastic shampoo bottle and was sniffing it. “Did you just buy this shampoo?”

  “No,” Emily sobbed. “I’ve had it for weeks. The bottle was only a third full.” She buried her head in her mother’s side.

  “We have to take it to the store,” Mrs. Wallner said. “Maybe somebody tampered with it—”

  “But she’s been using it for weeks,” Mr. Wallner interrupted, pouring some of the green shampoo into his hand.

  “But there’s something wrong with it,” Mrs. Wallner insisted. “Look at her. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Mom—” Nancy started, a warning to her mother to be careful of what she said. Emily was just starting to calm down a little.

  “Hey, wait.” Mr. Wallner bent down and picked something up out of the wastebasket under the sink. “Look at this.” He held up a small brown bottle.

  “What’s that?” Jessie asked.

  “It’s a bottle of peroxide,” Mr. Wallner said, his expression turning even more grim. “It’s empty.” He turned it upside down.

  “You mean—” Nancy started.

  “Peroxide?” Emily was so upset, she couldn’t follow what was going on. Everyone was a blur, a steamy blur. She shivered under the bathrobe and tried to bring them all into focus. But her eyes just wouldn’t clear.

  Mr. Wallner tilted the shampoo bottle and let the shampoo run into the sink. “Somebody emptied the peroxide into Emily’s shampoo.”

  “But who would do that?” Jessie asked, sounding horrified.

  “We have to find out. This is serious,” he said, studying the green shampoo as it ran down the white porcelain sink.

  “Jessie spent an awfully long time in the bathroom just before dinner,” Nancy said.

  All eyes turned on Jessie, whose face immediately turned angry. “So what does that prove?” She glared at Nancy.

  “I didn’t accuse you,” Nancy said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I just said—”

  “Why would I do such a horrible thing?” Jessie shrieked.

  “Calm down, Jessie!” Mr. Wallner shouted. “Nancy shouldn’t have said that.”

  “But it’s true,” Nancy insisted. “I tried to get into the bathroom for twenty minutes, but Jessie—”

  “I didn’t do it!” Jessie cried, moving menacingly toward Nancy.

  Her father quickly stepped between them.

  “Jessie, calm down. No one said—”

  “You all think I did it, don’t you?” Jessie asked, looking from one face to the next. “Everyone thinks that because of what happened to Jolie that I—that I’m a horrible person who would do anything. That is what you think—isn’t it?”

  Jolie?

  Who’s Jolie? Emily wondered, searching Jessie’s angry face as if trying to find the answer there.

  Who is Jolie, and what happened to her?

  “Jessie, stop screaming. Everybody . . . stop screaming,” Mr. Wallner said, slamming his hands against the sides of the sink.

  “I get accused of everything that happens around here!” Jessie cried, ignoring him. “And I know why too. Don’t think I don’t know why.” These last words were spoken to her father.

  She did it, Emily realized.

  Jessie did it. She put the peroxide in my shampoo. Now she’s carrying on and throwing a tantrum so that no one will be able to accuse her, to make her confess.

  But she’s gone too far, Emily thought. She’s not that good an actress. She got too angry too fast. That’s the giveaway. She’s the one who did this to me.

  As Emily thought this, Nancy and Jessie screamed accusations back and forth. Mr. Wallner shouted at them to stop. Mrs. Wallner smoothed Emily’s discolored hair back off her forehead.
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  “Everyone hates me!” Jessie cried, her hands clenched in tight fists, her blue eyes wide and flashing in fury.

  “What’s wrong with this family?” Mrs. Wallner wailed. “Why can’t we get along? Why can’t we discuss this like—”

  “Everybody just be silent for thirty seconds!” Mr. Wallner bellowed, making a pleading gesture with his big hands, his face bright red.

  “Jessie, why are you being so defensive?” Nancy asked quietly, ignoring her stepfather’s request.

  “Everyone hates me! No one believes me!” Jessie shrieked. She turned and ran out of the bathroom, crying at the top of her lungs.

  Even her crying sounds phony, Emily decided. Such hysterics. But Jessie can’t quite pull it off. She isn’t fooling anyone. At least, she isn’t fooling me.

  “Where’s Rich?” Nancy asked suddenly.

  Mr. Wallner looked at Mrs. Wallner. “If that boy is responsible for this . . . ”

  “Don’t you start getting crazy,” Mrs. Wallner told her husband, taking his arm. “We have no reason to suspect Rich. He went to the library right after dinner.”

  “He should be home by now, shouldn’t he?” Nancy asked, looking at her watch.

  “Yes, he should,” her mother replied. “It’s strange. It’s not like Rich to stay out so late.”

  “What about my hair?” Emily wailed, catching a glimpse of the spotted mess in the mirror.

  Nancy put her arm around her sister’s shoulders and started to guide her out the door. “Come to my room,” she said softly. “Let’s see what we can do with it. Maybe we can make it look deliberate. You know. Sort of punky, sort of cutting edge.”

  Emily gratefully let her sister guide her out into the hall. Behind her she could hear her parents arguing about whether Rich was the culprit or not. As she passed her bedroom, she saw Jessie sitting on her bed, writing furiously in her diary, sobbing loudly.

  Not very convincing, Jessie, Emily thought.

  Not very convincing at all.

  Jessie ruined my hair.

  It had to be Jessie.

  A horrifying thought made Emily’s breath catch in her throat.

  What would Jessie do next?

  Chapter

  7

  Murder

  “I like your hair,” Nancy said, getting up from her desk. She was wearing faded jeans and a man’s striped shirt.

  “Thanks,” Emily said. “You did a great job, Nance. Trimming the sides so short was a real inspiration.”

  “You’re right. It was, if I do say so myself.”

  “It really looks like I put in blond highlights. I wonder if Josh will like it,” Emily said, feeling a sudden flutter of nervousness.

  “He hasn’t seen it?”

  “No. He wasn’t in school yesterday or today. Some kind of virus or something. He says he’s fine now.”

  “Knowing Josh,” Nancy said, “he won’t even notice.”

  Emily laughed. “What a mean thing to say.” She thought about it. “But you’re right, of course.”

  “I’m always right,” Nancy said, smiling. “Hey, you’re not dressed.”

  “I’ll get dressed after dinner. Hugh is making spaghetti with his famous tomato sauce. I don’t want to go to the basketball game and the dance with big orange blobs all over my clothes.”

  Nancy turned away suddenly and looked out the window, as if avoiding Emily’s gaze. “I had a date,” she said wistfully. “But he had to go out of town with his parents at the last minute.”

  Poor Nancy, Emily thought. She keeps getting stood up by guys. She just can’t seem to find anyone who’s really interested in her.

  “It’s just as well,” Nancy said, turning her gaze back on Emily. “I have so much studying to do. I’ll be able to get a good head start on it tonight while you’re out wasting your time having fun.” She laughed.

  “Bitter, bitter,” Emily said gently, not as a criticism.

  Nancy started to say something, but they were interrupted by a commotion downstairs. They both heard a loud pounding on the front door, followed by hurried footsteps across the hall, followed by loud, troubled voices.

  “Now what?” Nancy asked, rolling her eyes.

  They both headed for the stairs.

  Halfway down the staircase Emily was startled to see a tall policeman in the front hall. He had his hand firmly on Rich’s shoulder. Rich, in his blue down vest with a gray sweatshirt underneath and blue corduroys, was squirming under the policeman’s grip, looking very pale and frightened. He looked up at Emily and Nancy as they descended the stairs, and Emily saw that he had a dark spot of dried blood above his lip.

  “Did you hit him?” Emily sputtered, startled by the sight of the blood.

  “What?” The policeman, a young man with the beginnings of a brown mustache on his lip, looked up, confused by her question.

  “No,” Rich muttered to the floor. “I had a nosebleed in school this afternoon.”

  Mr. Wallner, in a stained white apron, a large wooden mixing spoon in his hand, stood staring angrily at Rich. “The officer has informed me that Rich committed a crime this evening.”

  “What!” Jessie came bounding down the stairs. She stopped behind Emily and Nancy, who leaned against the banister on the bottom. “Rich, what did you do?”

  “Nothing much,” Rich muttered, looking down at his sneakers, both of which were untied, as usual.

  “Don’t say that,” the officer warned. He had a thin, reedy voice that made him sound about twelve years old. “Shoplifting is a serious offense, son.”

  “Shoplifting?” Jessie cried, looking very alarmed.

  “Rich was caught stealing a cassette from the record store in the Division Street Mall,” Mr. Wallner informed them. “He had it in his vest pocket.”

  “I meant to pay for it,” Rich said with a sneer.

  “Don’t make it even worse by lying,” Mr. Wallner snapped.

  “Maybe he isn’t lying,” Jessie said.

  Emily looked at her, surprised. It was the first time she had ever heard Jessie stand up for her brother.

  “The manager isn’t pressing charges,” the policeman said to Mr. Wallner. “Since the boy is so young, he just figured you should probably be the one to deal with the problem.” He let go of Rich’s shoulder.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” said Mr. Wallner, glaring at Rich. “I’ll deal with it, okay. When I’m finished dealing with it, I don’t think Rich will ever think of shoplifting again.”

  Rich made a disgusted face that Emily could see but his father couldn’t.

  “Why’d you do it, Rich?” Mr. Wallner asked, softening a little.

  Rich shrugged.

  “I’ve got to be going,” the policeman said, running a finger over his burgeoning mustache. “Stay out of trouble, son. Okay?”

  Rich nodded.

  The policeman turned and left quickly, the glass storm door slamming behind him. A burst of cold air entered the hallway, but the atmosphere inside was even colder than the winter air.

  “Why’d you do it?” Mr. Wallner demanded. “Why?”

  “I’m sorry,” Rich said, his voice cracking.

  “If you wanted a cassette, why didn’t you ask me for the money?” his father demanded.

  “Sorry,” Rich said. He raised his eyes and stared at Mr. Wallner, as if to show that he wasn’t afraid of him.

  “But why steal? What would make you think you had to steal?”

  “Sorry,” Rich repeated. Each time he repeated the word, it made Mr. Wallner even angrier.

  Rich probably knows that, Emily thought. What a strange boy he is.

  “But, Rich—”

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

  “Leave him alone,” Jessie interrupted, pushing her way past Emily and Nancy. “Can’t you see he’s too upset to talk about it?” She put her arm around Rich’s shoulders.

  Rich started to move away, then changed his mind. He stood in place, looking uncomfortable.

  Jessi
e really cares about her brother, Emily thought.

  Or is this some kind of show she’s putting on?

  No. She seems sincere this time. Not like the other night.

  Emily and Jessie had barely exchanged two words since the shower incident two nights before.

  “Oh, no—my sauce!” Mr. Wallner cried, suddenly reminded by the spoon in his hands. He hurried back to the kitchen. “Rich, we’ll have a long talk after dinner,” he called as he ran.

  “Can’t wait,” Rich muttered, loud enough for everyone but his father to hear.

  “Bad attitude,” Jessie said quietly, removing her arm from around his shoulder. “That bad attitude will really get you into trouble, Rich.”

  “What do you know about it?” Rich snapped angrily. Before Jessie could react, he pushed past the three girls and fled up the stairs, two at a time.

  Mrs. Wallner returned home a few minutes later. Emily could hear her stepdad telling her the whole story in the kitchen.

  Needless to say, dinner was solemn and nearly silent. Rich asked to be excused after only a few forkfuls of spaghetti.

  “My kids,” Mr. Wallner complained to no one in particular, shaking his head. “What am I raising?”

  Emily looked over at Jessie, who was glaring back at her father, a hurt expression on her face, cold fury in her eyes.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Shadyside won the basketball game with a foul shot in the final seconds. The score was 49 to 48. The shouts and cheers and raucous blasts from the school band at the final whistle were so loud, Emily thought the old gym might burst at the seams.

  Jessie had gone to the game even though she didn’t have a date for the dance afterward. Emily saw her once, walking with Krysta up to the top row of the bleachers, the two of them chattering away.

  She’s so silent at home, Emily thought. I wonder how many different personalities she has. I’ll never really get to know Jessie, she thought wistfully. Then she remembered her anger—and her fear. I don’t really want to know Jessie, she told herself, and shut all thoughts of her stepsister from her mind.