White Girl Problems Read online

  I walked up, seeing the funny look on my father’s face again. It was like he was constipated, with a thousand things to say, but again his face grew cold and my heart burned. I looked away, letting it all just happen. So what? I was being sent away. It wasn’t like I was actually part of their little family anyway. And I could party wherever. I could have fun wherever. I could be a blast no matter where I did it.

  Sheila smiled. “I packed for you so you’re all set.” I walked past her to the elevators and decided to take the stairs.

  “Take the elevator, Finley.”

  I ignored her and walked to the door, flashing her a sweet smile and entering. I ran down the stairs as fast as my boots would carry me. When I got to the front entry, I watched as they came frantically scrambling from the elevators. It was funny to watch them.

  I could imagine Sheila was terrified I was ruining her evil plan of only having the World of Warcraft nerd for the summer. Her eldest, Suzzy, was going to New Mexico for the summer with her boyfriend from college instead of coming home. Jess and I were all that were home, and she never left her room. I was seriously scared she had a poopsock.

  She’d almost had me convinced it was fun to game, the winter before when the ice storms had hit us, but Linna came and rescued me.

  I smirked and walked out to the car. He had it parked almost on the curb. My stuff was packed in a shitty old bag I didn't even know we had. I was tempted to unzip it, but the nurse’s words were burned into my head. I was NOT letting Sheila win.

  She’d won this battle, and I was being thrown out for the summer, but I would be back and she would pay then. If she thought I’d made it hard thus far, she had no idea what she was in for. And thanks to her, I had all summer to plot.

  Hattie’s couldn't be all that bad if Mom had gone there. I recalled few details about my mom, but I did know she had been a true rebel. She was badass. She was a typical East Coast rich girl who had raced the world in search of herself. My grandmother had been worried about her before she met my father. When he got her pregnant, the party ended. I looked out the window and imagined what she would do, being driven to an airport to be sent to Hattie’s. I wondered if it was a “like mother, like daughter” moment.

  I ignored both of the bickering jackasses in the front seat on the ride over to the airport and slammed the door to the car, stomping into the building before my father could get out of the car.

  When I got to the counter, I felt like I was in a scene in a movie—a bad movie. A Christmas movie maybe. How was it possible that my junior year was ending like this? No big parties or fun to be had. No, I was being sent away.

  Was a lip-gloss really worth all of this? A tear fell from my eye as I slapped the envelope onto the counter. The woman gave me a look. “You okay?”

  I shook my head, offering no explanation.

  She waited for it and when nothing was offered, she smiled; it was plastic and perfect. “Where are you headed today?”

  I swallowed hard. “I don't know.”

  She cocked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and took the envelope and my passport. Her bright-brown eyes lit up when she saw the location. “Ohhhhh, you are so lucky. I went here once when I was a kid. What a neat place to go. I haven’t been to Canada in ages. What are you going to Nova Scotia for?”

  I shook my head. “My father is sending me away.” The answer came out harshly. Canada? Was it a joke? What the hell? How could he send me to Canada, the other side of the continent? God, he did hate me.

  She looked horrified, finally a normal response. “To Canada? Wow. What did you do?”

  I started to laugh. “Stole lip-gloss.”

  She stepped back. “No.”

  I laughed harder. “I did. From MAC, and I lied about it.” I didn’t even know why I was telling her.

  Her hand crept to her lips. “Honey, he’s sending you to Canada for that?”

  “Yeah.”

  She took the ticket. “I am so sorry. I didn't know that was even allowed. Are you okay?”

  My head seriously shook itself, I swear. She stepped back to the counter and lowered her voice. “This is going to sound very forward, but if you need help—here.” She pulled a card out of her pocket and passed it to me. “If you have nowhere to go and you want to come back, call me.”

  I looked at the white card with the airline’s logo on it. I was stunned. The lady didn't know me at all and she was scared for me. Maybe she was a human trafficker or an Internet pedo. I placed the card in my pocket anyway. She was the first person to be nice to me in ages. “Thank you.”

  She passed me my boarding cards. “Canada is nice. Canadians are nice people, but I have a sister your age. I would be worried to death if she were being sent away. I know how hard it is when you don't get along with your parents. If you have a problem, call me.”

  I nodded. “Sure.” I clutched the boarding pass and stalked off to the security checkpoint, rubbing where the bandage was on my wrist.

  Why does my manicure chip at all the wrong moments?

  Chapter Four

  Thot’s a Lotta Old Booty

  Hattie was an old woman, not like “Susan Sarandon who still shags twenty-year-olds” old—no. Hattie was like a thousand. She talked funny and wore a weird sunhat. She had silver-white hair in a bob, and I could tell she was feisty. She had a large midsection but was skinny everywhere else. She walked up in the small airport and gave me a look. “You must be some tired.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Hattie?”

  “Aunt Hattie.” She said it like she was British. I said aunt like I was talking about the insect, ant. She said it like we might have to have tea with the queen.

  She pointed. “Let’s go. I have a busy day and you need to sleep.” She looked back at me as we stomped out to the car. Something was in the air, beyond the cold. It was damp, really damp. There was a weird ocean smell maybe. I wasn’t technically sure how close we were to the ocean. I knew sweet eff all about Canada, except where Vancouver was. My fake ID had gotten me into a bar there.

  Hattie had a small Toyota car parked in the parkade. She opened the trunk for me and climbed in the driver’s seat. She didn't talk a lot; that was kind of a nice surprise. I figured for sure she would grill me.

  She drove and I tried really hard not to fall asleep.

  I woke to the sun and birds. I opened my eyes, squinting at the light. It was the whitest place I’d ever seen.

  The ocean air was thick, like my skin was going to be sticky all the time. The car was parked outside of a small white house. There wasn't another house around, just trees. I looked about, squinting from the headache I was starting to get. What was this white hell?

  I opened the door and stumbled out, scrambling through my memories for an answer. Small white house, crappy little Toyota, and damp air. Right, I was at Hattie’s house.

  I took a quick look around her street. There was nothing but her house and her driveway. I was a bit stunned to see a view of the sea on one side of the house. It was just over a hill. When I walked up to the house and climbed the front steps, I could see a lake of sorts on the other side.

  The smell of salt and seaweed was overwhelming. I sighed and walked into the house. It smelled like apple cider or something like that. It was fruity. The small kitchen was full to the brim with cooking utensils. It looked like a granny’s kitchen and smelled good. A small black dog walked up, wagging its tail and holding a ball. I reached down for the ball, but it walked past me toward a lighted room, brighter than the kitchen.

  I followed the dog to the back door that was just left open.

  Hattie was sticking her clothes to a string in the backyard. She smiled, but it didn't improve the look of her face. “Good afternoon, sunshine. We hang laundry here. You might as well come and watch. I can only wonder what in God’s name you’re learning in Seattle.”

  I scowled. “I don't live in Seattle. I live in Spokane.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don't know the West Coast very well
. Everything is Vancouver, Seattle, and Los Angeles.”

  “Spokane is over closer to Idaho.”

  She smiled, completely ignoring me. “Though, I did get out to the place I suppose is close to where you live, Whidbey Island, when I was a girl. Met a sailor there. He was beautiful. But you know what they’re all like.” She winked and I gagged a little bit. I didn't know where the story was going, but I could bet bad places.

  “Spokane isn’t on the coast.” I turned and sat on a weird wooden chair that sloped back with crazy armrests. It looked odd, like something you would get at Ikea, but it was comfortable.

  She was quiet as she hung things up for a minute.

  “Are you Canadian?” I asked.

  She laughed. “No, no. I’m a Yankee, just like you. I married a Canadian and moved here. Your mom used to come here when she was a kid. Her and her sister. Your grandmother thought it was a great way for them to stay out of trouble. She thought Canada was like the Arctic.” Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “But they found plenty. So let me just say this, I know what kids your age get at. I know about the smoking weed and drinking rum. Those are normal things for kids to get at. The hard drugs and the cutting—that’s not. I don't give a rat’s ass about the goddamned lip-gloss or the partying back home, and I don’t know what the hell kind of parenting your father has been at. I always said your dad was an idiot and Simone could have done better, but that's neither here nor there now. But you need to know we have rules in this house. You will work. You will keep a job. You will help out around here. If you can drink rum all day long and still do those things, I don't care. I won’t buy your booze or smokes, and you can’t keep drugs in my house. Oh—and no cutting or I will take away the razors, and you can grow extra wooly under your arms.”

  I could feel my eyes drying out, but I couldn't even blink. I didn't have a reaction except one sentence. “I don’t do drugs and I don’t cut.”

  She snorted. “Okay, you and Lindsey Lohan are both clean and sober, and that’s not a bandage with a bunch of stitches. Tell yourself whatever you want, but the rules are the rules. And I’m not like your dad—you don’t want to mess with me.”

  She was a crazy old lady. My dad had sent me to a scary, crazy old lady. The dog came over and placed her ball in my lap. She barked right in my face. I jumped, grabbing the ball and flinging it across the yard. She turned and ran hard, bringing it back and barking at me again.

  “Well now, you have started something there. Peaches will do this all day long, and you have to go and meet your new boss.”

  My eyes shot up. “What?” The dog’s name was Peaches? She was a black lab. What an insult.

  She sighed. “Do I have to start over here, or are you keeping up with my list of demands?”

  “I think I’m keeping up. I was more worried about the dog being named Peaches.”

  “Well, it doesn't seem like it. Seems like you’re confused about the job. Peaches is a long story and we leave here in an hour. Throw the ball and be ready to run. Go and get changed into something you can wait tables in. Those boots are a bad idea.”

  I lifted a leg just as the ball landed in my crotch. I tossed it and wrestled my way out of the chair. It was like a death trap. Hattie laughed at me as I walked inside. “Your room is at the far end of the hall, on the left.”

  It wasn't hard to figure out which room was mine. It was the only uncluttered room in the house. I slumped the bag on the bed and opened it, cringing. Sheila had packed me yoga pants, flats, tee shirts, and pajama pants. I had one pair of underwear I didn't really want to touch. Knowing Sheila had touched them was creeping me out. Skeezy bitch had been in my closets.

  The view, from the room was amazing. It was straight across the lake where I could see houses that looked more like mine back home, big and fancy. I pressed my hand against the glass, feeling close to tears. The bandage scared me. I didn’t want to admit it, but it did. What if Linna was right and I had cut myself on purpose? A tear trickled down my cheek. It was a hard reality to face. I had drunk too much and made bad choices.

  I felt ashamed that my mom had been there, in that house. If she had ever seen me like this, she would’ve freaked.

  I wished for the first time in a very long time that she were there.

  Being at Hattie’s felt a little bit like knowing something private about her, even if it was just a little. Had she been in the room? Had my mom touched this very window? Had she felt lost like I did? Maybe she had no idea about her future, like me.

  I had a terrible feeling she was just like Sheila, and that kind of woman was my dad’s type.

  I turned away from the view and got dressed. A job, a headache, no phone, no computer, no iPad, no iPod, no friends. Life in Nova Scotia was going to be very boring.

  The hallway was lonely; the whole house was. There was a void. I couldn’t put my finger on it. When I got down to the kitchen, she was feeding the dog from the table. I grimaced, but she ignored it. “Oh good, you look more like a normal kid. Let’s go.” She got up and walked out to her car. The dog apparently was coming.

  I looked around the house, not seeing a computer at all. Her house was like going back about forty years. “Does Eastern Canada have Internet?”

  She shook her head and looked at me. “What?”

  “Internet? Do you know what that is?”

  She started to laugh. “Kid, Canada invented electricity. Do you think America is the only nation in the whole world?”

  I didn’t realize it would be an insult. I looked down at my feet. I needed a drink and a cute boy to make me smile.

  “We have it all—shopping, cities, technology. But you won’t be seeing any of that. Your dad said you’re on a break from all that.” She drove alongside the lake. “This is Porters Lake. It’s huge and the water is the same as the ocean. It starts over at the coastline as a salt-water lake and as you get farther from the ocean, it has more fresh water in it. Neat, huh?”

  I didn’t know if that was a cool thing or not, so I just looked out the window at the bright-blue water. It didn’t look like a huge lake. I could see both sides and probably swim from one side to the other. She turned up a road that looked like no one used it, and suddenly we were there. It looked like a hotel or a resort. My stomach was aching with nerves. I gave her a look. “Where are we?”

  She pointed and read the sign slowly. “Lakeside Retirement Community.”

  I smiled. “Smartass.”

  She winked. “It runs in the family. Didn’t anyone ever tell you?” She was up and out the door. The dog gave me a look before following. I didn’t want to move. Friggin’ retirement community. Why didn’t Hattie live there?

  She turned around, pointing at me. “Move your ass.”

  I started laughing. It might have been partial nerves, but the rest was actual amusement. She was insane; that much was clear. Crazy old bat. I got out and followed her inside. We passed old people. They made Hattie look like she might be ready for a marathon. They were in chairs or had walkers. Most had canes if they were walking. But not Hattie. She stormed down the hallway.

  I weaved myself through them, holding my breath. Everything was too much. Lots of old people and a weird smell. It was like mints and death combined, maybe. I cringed.

  People either smiled at me or glared; none ignored my walk of shame through the halls. We entered a massive room filled with chairs and couches and a couple fireplaces. It was a huge entertaining room or living room. It made my heart race, wondering what I would be doing there. I clutched to the card from the airline lady. Would she steal a plane and come and get me or smuggle me aboard a jet? I needed to keep her as a possible option.

  Hattie marched through the great room to a dining room full of round tables. Each one had six chairs. It opened up right onto the lake with a garden and walking path. It was stunning; there was no denying that.

  Hattie went through a door, but I was starting to see her as my own personal white rabbit. Did I dare follow her thr
ough the door or stay there in the sunlight?

  I was exhausted and moody. I didn’t want to meet new people. I didn’t want to be rude. I wasn’t normally unpleasant, except to Sheila, but she was a ho. I knew that from the moment I’d met her. I had been a small child yet somehow able to see what my father could not. Her arrival into my life had changed so many things. I had once had a nanny named Sophie. She was an au pair from France and I loved her. She taught me French and kissed me on the nose. But she was young and beautiful, and when Sheila came, Sophie was fired and sent home.

  My father had been so excited that Sheila had daughters close to my age. But it was us and them, and I was on the side with the workaholic, which meant I was alone. He just never knew.

  Jessica had been the only one who liked me. We had played together for a while, but then she started reading and I got boobs, and we stopped having things in common. I had never been fond of Suzzy. She was her mother but a brunette like me instead of a blonde, but that didn’t change the fact she was still a slut from hell.

  I caught her having sex tons, smoking pot every chance she had, and once even doing lines of something. She was the extreme version of my friends, but I was the bad kid. I was a liar who made up things about Suzzy when I tattled on her. I was a fibber who told stories about Sheila when I caught her doing bad things. And I was a whiner when my dad was on trips, and I was locked in my room for three days straight, with only Jess bringing me food.

  Sheila had never wanted another kid. She had her hands full trying to raise the ones she had. I got a glimpse of myself in the window and sighed as an old man in red shorts jogged past.

  “Look at that ass.”

  I spun sharply to see a group of six ladies playing cards at a table. They were all old, old as dirt, so naturally I assumed I had misheard.

  “He has a fine ass on him. Did you ever bite that butt, Martha?” An old lady with dyed dark hair laughed. I was stunned. Dirty old ladies? Was this my job, serving dinner to dirty old ladies?