“Yes, Mrs. West. I’ll be right down.”
Looking back, Ginny realized it had been a stubborn mistake she was now going to have to live with for the foreseeable future.
She had sat at the dinner table, mutely refusing to respond to any attempt the sheriff made to talk to her. She’d still been sitting at the table, staring down at a slice of pork swimming in apples, wanting to puke, when he excused himself and left her behind. He looked back, giving her time to stop him. Firming her lips, she shot him an angry look that she hoped would hurt him as much as it did her.
The month she had lived there was miserable. The only good part of the day was school, and that wasn’t saying much.
She missed being homeschooled by her dad. He would give them a folder at the beginning of each week and, by Friday, she would have worked through it at her own pace. The best part of it was her father sucked at math the same way she did. He had given Silas her folder to grade the math assignments, and her brother had somehow made her understand how to get the answer. The teacher at school couldn’t care less, just slashing a red mark on the top. Every red mark made her heart shrivel a little more each day. Just like the way Lisa looked and spoke to her every day.
“I’m not hungry.”
Her foster mother leaned against the doorjamb, folding her arms across her chest in a pose that Ginny was starting to hate as much as her. “Don’t you think it’s time you quit acting like a spoiled bitch?”
Ginny’s mouth dropped open.
“That’s right; I called you a bitch. If you act like one, that’s how you’ll get treated by me.”
She didn’t know what to say. She had never been talked to like that before.
“I’ve had it with your attitude. There’s only one bitch in this home, and sweetheart, it’s not you.”
Her harsh remarks cut her like a knife. She wanted to snap back at the woman, but fear held her back. There was a similar gleam in Lisa’s eyes that she remembered seeing when she was younger. She instinctively closed her mouth, deciding not to provoke her, too afraid of what she would do.
“Your teacher called me to set up a meeting with her. She’s concerned you’re failing, that you’re not making any effort to get your homework done, and when you do, it’s wrong.” Gliding across the room, she came to stand next to the bed.
Ginny’s body was taut in fear, seeing the fury that she hadn’t seen when she was farther away.
Lisa curved her lips in a cruel smile. “Relax, sweetie. I won’t lay a hand on you. I may be forced to live in hillbilly central, but that doesn’t mean I have to act like they do.” Sitting down on her bed, Lisa elegantly crossed her legs as she flipped her book closed, forcing her attention on her.
Running the pad of her thumb over polished nails, she began talking, and as she did, Ginny wanted to jump from the bed and run from the room. Fear kept her in place.
“We need to come to an agreement. I became a foster mother for one reason, and that’s because I don’t have any of my own kids. To be blunt, there are certain invitations and functions that only parents are given. I need a child to accomplish that goal. That’s where you come in. If I can’t use you that way, you’re useless to me.
“I wanted a much younger child. Unfortunately, I let the sheriff convince me to accept you into my home. A decision I am now regretting.”
“I don’t like it here either.” Arching her shoulders back obstinately, Ginny tried to cover her apprehension. She didn’t want her foster mother to know how afraid of her she was. It was a hard lesson she had learned when she dealt with someone even scarier than the glamourous woman trying to intimidate her.
“Shut up. When I want your stupid, little opinion, I’ll ask for it,” she said cuttingly, making her feel an inch small.
“You should be kissing the ground I walk on that you’re going to get the benefit of my guidance. The best thing that ever happened to you is that I am willing to ignore that trashy”— Ginny’s hands curled into fists at her family being called trashy—“background you were born into, and you can now grow up to be a woman who can have a career you can be proud of, unlike the mother who left you to be raised by a man whose only way to make a living was to father as many children as he could. You, my dear, will not be spitting out a brat every year to earn another check.”