Chapter Ten

Heat

-o-

Melissa sneaked back home through the forest. By the time she broke the treeline at the end of the cul-de-sac, her feet were cut-up and bleeding. She hopped the back fence and entered her house through the backdoor, successfully dodging her father on her way up to her room. He wouldn't have approved of her running around the neighbourhood barefoot in damp clothes, reeking of lake water.

Upstairs, she headed straight to the little yellow bathroom and started the shower. She stood under the water for hours, washing her hair and scrubbing her skin pink. In the steam of the shower, all her mistakes blended into a haze. She couldn't quite tell where it was she had first gone wrong. Was it selling Jasper the book, or accepting his offer to tutor her? Was it going to his birthday, or kissing him in his bedroom? She'd trusted him so easily. That was stupid of her. She should have known better.

All of it was her fault. She saw that clearly now. Every choice she had made had invited Jasper into her life. Maybe her father was right and she was simply bad. If she was good, none of it would have ever happened. She wouldn't have failed her maths test, or spoken to him, or studied with him, or ever kissed him.

God, why did it always go back to that kiss?

Her fingertips pressed against her lips. She had kissed a vampire. She had kissed someone who didn't sleep, didn't age, didn't eat.

She kissed someone who drank human blood.

She gagged and leaned over, her hands on her knees. The water swirled by her feet, along with her breakfast, down the drain.

Maybe if she tried very, very hard, things could go back to the way they were. Maybe if she was very, very good, it would be like nothing had ever happened.

She could go back to being her dad's least favourite daughter, her mother's killer. She could go back to school with better grades without Jasper's help. She could go back to Westbrook's and feel okay about leaving Jinx there, and she could sell books and help her father get out of the financial mess he had fallen into. She could leave her field notebook at the back of her wardrobe and donate her hiking gear.

And, if she was very, very perfect, she would be so perfect she could forget everything and forgive anything.

She could forget about what her father did. She could forget about Jinx, about Anna's promise to get them out, about her dreams of college and biology and nature. And most importantly, she could forget all about Jasper Hale and the way he made her feel safe, the way he smelt of slow afternoons spent baking, and dreamless sleep, and the ease of domestic bliss on a sunny day.

But there was the price for all that and there was the reward: she would give up everything to please her father, and she would receive worse than nothing in return. She would receive her father's punishment for all the time she had spent straying away. And she would receive her own punishment, far more cruel than anything he could administer: the what-if. Her father's punishments were temporary; pain didn't last forever. A what-if could cycle through her head for her entire life. A what-if couldn't be left in the past.

What if she didn't accept her father's behaviour? What if Anna finally got them out? What if she could go to college somehow? What if she could have the life she wanted all along? And the final what-if, which scared her most: what if she was wrong about Jasper? What if he, vampire or not, was truly her friend?

Even that had been unclear before she found out the truth. Was he her friend, or something else? Did the kiss change things? Did she even want a relationship, or was she just clinging to him as an alternative to her suffering? Was she only interested in him because she thought he could save her?

No, she couldn't think about that. It didn't matter now. Jasper was a vampire.

Melissa sighed and turned off the water.

-o-

The summer heat grew more intense as the days marched further and further on into the season. Outside, crickets shrilled through the sweltering nights. During the evenings, she and Anna took turns standing in front of the electrical fan that she had ordered weeks ago. The mornings were spent caring for Jinx and carefully avoiding their father, but the afternoons were unkind and Melissa spent them underworked behind the counter at Westbrook's, turning over a single thought again and again, sunning it under her attention. That thought was Jasper Hale.

Since that day in the woods, she hadn't heard from or seen him. He'd confessed to being a vampire and then disappeared into thin air. She thought he would keep badgering her about her father, but he kept away. He didn't come to her house for their study sessions. He didn't text or call. He didn't visit Westbrook's when she was working.

Rita visited though. She sensed Melissa's mood over the phone and spent her free time sitting on the floor behind the counter, back pressed against the wall. A large book on historical paintings from the non-fiction section was open on the floor in front of her, but she wasn't looking at it. Her attention was turned to the pet carrier beside her. She swept her finger swiftly back and forth over the floor in front of the open door, smiling when a little black paw flashed out and batted at her hand.

"Why am I taking Jinx again?" Rita asked.

"Dad thinks he's allergic," Melissa lied, turning to the account book to hide her face.

"Haven't you had him for, like, forever?"

"I think you can develop allergies."

"That sucks." She sat up straighter. Still playing with Jinx, she leaned over to peer carefully at a picture of a Rembrandt. "Did you hear the Cullens left town?"

Melissa turned and looked at her. "How do you know that?"

"Papa made them badam katli as a going-away gift," she said. "He knows I love it but he wouldn't let me eat even one."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it totally sucked," she said. "I watched him cut them all into perfect little diamonds too. He knows I love diamonds."

Rita looked very miserable sitting on the floor, mourning the loss of her favourite dessert. And to think that her father's efforts were wasted on the Cullens who couldn't enjoy the food… Had they regifted the sweets, or just thrown them away?

"Hey, I'm sorry," Rita said. "I'm making this all about me. But you never know, maybe Jasper will come back."

"He can stay wherever he is," Melissa said, and she meant it. If Jasper stayed away, she wouldn't have to work so hard dodging all his annoying questions. The further that family of vampires was from the people she loved, the better.

"Ouch. Did he say something stupid before he left?"

"Something like that."

"What did he say?" Rita frowned. "He didn't tell you to wait for him, did he?"

"He said…" She paused, trying to think of what to say. She could hardly tell her the truth. Rita would think she was crazy. "He said he wasn't like other guys."

Rita's nose scrunched. "Ew."

"Yeah."

A pause. Then, "Time fixes everything. Things will be good again soon, you'll see."

A lump rose in Melissa's throat, and her eyes welled with tears. Rita rushed to her feet and wrapped her arms tightly around her, squeezing her so hard she squeaked.

"Aww, Melissa! It's going to be okay. I promise, it's going to get better. You'll forget all about Jasper and whatever dumb things he said. It'll happen before you know it."

She didn't understand. Melissa wasn't crying because she mourned her current situation or a boy. She was crying because Rita didn't understand just how bad things could get.

Melissa wanted more than anything to stay with Rita that night. She wanted to listen to her albums and drink chai tea and practice makeup on each other. She wanted to watch bad comedies with Jinx on her lap and laugh until her stomach hurt, then fall asleep on her bed, arms and legs flung out like a starfish. She wanted to wake up to Rita pushing her back onto her half of the bed, telling her she was the least fun person she had ever slept with, and thumping her on the head with her pillow.

She wanted to avoid her house as if it had black mould, or a gas leak, but she couldn't leave Anna there alone.

-o-

When Melissa returned home, there was a car parked outside the house. She'd never seen the silver sedan before and had no idea who it could belong to. She peered at it as she walked past it, trying to peek into the windows. The interior was clean and bare aside from a coloured binder folder sitting on the passenger seat. Her heart skipped a beat at the possibility of it belonging to her maths teacher. No, it couldn't be Mr. Halstead's. He drove a minivan.

She frowned, and glanced down the street. It must have belonged to one of the neighbour's.

She continued up to the front door, not thinking anything more of it. She unlocked the door, went inside, and stepped out of her shoes. Only then did she hear the low murmur of voices coming from the living room. The conversation didn't sound performative like it might have if it were part of a film. There were awkward pauses, and the volume wasn't consistent.

Odd.

Frowning, Melissa peered through the doorway into the living room. The television was turned off, the screen blank.

There were people in the room.

From where she stood, she could see the back of two women's heads. Her father sat on the other couch near the window, offering a view of his profile. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye before looking back at the two women. Melissa supposed there was some sort of message in that look, but she didn't quite understand it. A few seconds later, he turned to look at her properly. She understood only then that his subtle glance was to tell her to prepare herself to lie.

"Melissa, welcome home," he said with a smile. "There are some nice ladies here who want to talk to you."

The two women twisted in their seats to look over the back of the couch and at her. She stilled under the attention, her eyes darting between the two. The first woman was older, with purple-framed glasses perched on her nose and greying hair cut into a sharp bob. The second had a stronger build, a rounder face, and her dark hair was styled into two thick braids.

One of them stood and began to introduce themselves. Melissa paid no attention to them, too stunned by their presence and her father's abnormal greeting to listen properly. Her eyes were glued to her father.

He widened his own eyes at her pointedly. What she was doing was wrong, his gaze seemed to say.

She blinked, drawing a deep breath. She turned back to the women and tried to focus on what they were saying. Too late, it seemed. She'd missed their names.

"We were wondering if we could have a quick chat with you," one of them was saying. "Maybe you could show us your room?"

Melissa shifted her weight, glancing at her father.

"It's alright, Mel," he said. She resisted the urge to cringe. Her father never called her Mel. "They just want to ask a few questions. They're with CPS."

Oh, shit.

"Oh." She looked back at the women, who she now knew to be social workers. "Okay. Um, my room's upstairs."

The two women stood and followed her to the staircase. Melissa glanced back at her father, still sitting on the couch. He was staring at her. His eyes were unfriendly, peeking out from beneath his lowered brow. His jaw was set. He said nothing.

She bit her cheek, looked away, and led the two women to her bedroom. She stepped inside and perched awkwardly on the edge of her bed. She couldn't recall the last time she'd felt so out of place in her own room, as if she were the visitor. One of them glanced around the room, a clipboard in her hands, while the other asked if she could sit next to Melissa on her bed. She nodded, and the mattress sank with the other woman's weight.

"This is a very nice room," she said with a smile. She glanced at the window. "It must get all the beautiful afternoon sunshine."

"Yeah, I guess."

"No need to be nervous. You're not in trouble. We just want to make sure you're safe and happy here, that's all. Do you think you could answer some questions for me?"

"Okay," she said, but that was easier said than done. "That sounds fine."

"We're here because we received a report."

"From the Cullens?" Her heart skipped a beat. In her shock, after Jasper revealed he was a vampire, she'd completely forgotten to convince him nothing was wrong at home. Now he had left, and he'd snitched on his way out of town.

"It's against policy to say who made the report," she said. "What's important is that there's concern that some of your recent injuries may have been caused by another person."

Shit.

Melissa tried to keep her voice steady. She tried to look genuinely confused, frowning just a little. "What injuries?"

"We were informed that a few weeks ago, you visited the emergency room for a rather nasty cut on your arm."

Melissa drew a steadying breath. She needed to appear honest, like she had nothing to hide. "I did."

"Could you tell me how you got that cut?"

"I-" Melissa swallowed. She couldn't quite remember what she'd told Dr. Cullen. The details would be in her patient file. They'd be able to compare the stories. If she messed up, they would find out. "I cut my arm."

"Purposefully, or by accident?"

"By accident."

"And how did it happen?"

"There was a cup. I broke it, and it kinda just…" She gestured at her forearm. Her voice trailed off, and she dropped her hands back to her lap.

A short pause.

Her heart raced in her chest.

"Could you show me your arm?"

Melissa rolled up her sleeve, revealing her freckled skin and the pale scar carved through her flesh. The woman with the clipboard leaned over and peered at it, then scribbled something down in her notes.

"Thank you."

Melissa rolled her sleeve back down.

"We were also informed of some bruises on your hand," said the social worker sitting next to her. "Could you tell me about those?"

Melissa's gaze darted to the poster on the wall Anna lent her. The hole beneath it was still there, unfixed, along with the dirty shoe mark. Was Anna home? Had they spoken to her?

"I, um, just got really angry and I punched something. I'm seeing a therapist about it."

"What made you angry?"

She shrugged. "Hormones, I guess."

"It's a tricky time in your life. You're graduating soon, aren't you?"

"Next year."

"Do you find school stressful?"

"It's okay," Melissa said.

"What are your grades like?"

"Good. Maths not so much. I have a tutor."

At least, she had a tutor, before he confessed to being dead and left town. Why weren't they asking her about that? Do you know any vampires? It seemed like a good interview question.

"And do you have many friends, or not so many friends?"

"A couple," she said. "I guess I'm just shy."

"Do you spend much time with them?"

Melissa nodded. "When our schedules line up we go hiking, or shopping, or we study together."

"That sounds fun," she said, but she said it in the disinterested tone all adults use when something sounds boring to them. "And when you do something wrong, how does your father discipline you?"

Her stomach dropped at the sudden shift. She thought she'd gotten away with it. She thought she'd tricked them. That they'd dropped it and they would leave it there, on the floor, in the past.

She could tell the truth, she realised. She could tell them everything awful he had ever done, but then what? She peered at the two women. Would they believe her, or would her silver-tongued father charm them like he did everyone else? And if they didn't believe her, if they left her home with him, what would he do when he found out about what she said? What punishment would she face for her honesty, for her betrayal?

Lie.

Of course she had to lie. She knew that. She'd been taught that; lying about this was instinctual. But what did normal parents do instead? What would a normal father do instead of poisoning her pet? Instead of killing local wildlife and leaving her to dispose of the poor thing's body? Instead of throwing dishes or shoes at her, or slamming her head against the floor?

She swallowed. The room suddenly felt smaller, more cramped. The walls were closing in and pushing out what little air the room held.

Rita.

Yes, what happened to Rita when she misbehaved?

"He grounds me," she said. "Sometimes he gives me extra chores."

She glanced from one woman to the next, trying to see if they believed it. Had she paused for too long? Was her hesitation noted? Cold dread pooled in Melissa's gut as she considered what her father would do if this meeting didn't go well.

The social worker with the clipboard looked up from her notes. "What sorts of chores?"

"Like…" Melissa scrambled for a specific answer. "Cleaning the oven."

She nodded, and penned something down. Melissa sat up straighter, trying to see what she wrote.

"Last question: do you feel safe at home?"

No.

"Yeah," she said. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

The woman next to her stood, clapping her hands on her knees. "Great. I think that's it. Thank you so much for talking to us today, Melissa."

She smiled weakly at the two women as they filed out of the room. She followed them down the stairs, out of the house, and to their car to see them off. Her father joined her on the side of the road, waving to them as they drove away.

"If they come back," he said, still grinning and waving at the car in the distance, "you're dead."

-o-

On the weekend, with their father away at the shop, Anna joined Melissa on a hike. It was the first time she had come along in years. Her hiking shoes still fit, but her athletic shorts rode up her legs when she walked. She spent a good portion of the trek adjusting the fabric bunching between her thighs and stopping to catch her breath.

"It's so hot," she said, trodding along next to Melissa. She was more competent than Rita, finding it far easier to pick through the uneven rocks and decide which route was the safest.

"It's summer," Melissa said.

Anna kept quiet for a while after that. The only sounds came from nature: the rustle of leaves in the wind, the skittering of pebbles, the darting of small animals into the brush. Melissa savoured the soft sounds of nature. Her heart buzzed in her chest. The outdoors that had been for her, for such a long time, a home.

She hadn't decided yet if this would be her last journey out into the wilderness. She knew her trips outdoors displeased her father. She hadn't decided if she should cast away everything she wanted to be good, to please him. She hoped to reach a decision at the end of the trail, at the peak of a large hill overlooking the forest. It was the first hiking trail she ever completed alone. Standing at the top of that hill all those years ago, her throat had seized for the first time at the sight of all those trees and grasses stretching out below her, desperate to release a scream. She had swallowed the noise back down, too terrified to make a sound in a place that felt so sacred.

Maybe today she would finally allow it. Maybe she would let the scream that had built up for years at the back of her throat free at the top of the hill. Maybe it would soar over the trees and echo between the mountains and travel all the way out to sea, and she would be heard. She would be witnessed at last, at the very end, before she made a final promise. Before she decided it was best to be good.

"CPS came," Melissa said as she stepped over a fallen branch.

"I know."

"Did you speak to them?"

"I wasn't home," Anna said. "Dad told me about it."

"If they think something's wrong," Melissa said, "what are we going to do?"

Anna drew a ragged breath. "I have enough to support us for a while."

"That's good." Melissa smiled. Maybe she wouldn't have to give up everything after all.

"But the problem is," she went on, testing her weight on a rock before moving forwards and up a slight incline, "that we can't leave until next year. If CPS makes a judgement before then, I don't see how we're going to be able to stay together."

"Why?"

"Your birthday's in January," she said. "As long as you're a minor, I don't think he's above arguing that I kidnapped you."

"That's insane. You're my sister."

"I know, but the court might not see it like that."

"You're my sister," she repeated, as if it were obvious. It was obvious. How could Anna kidnap her? She loved her. She wanted to leave, wanted to live with her.

"I am," she said, "but it would be very easy for him to discredit me."

"It wouldn't," Melissa insisted, turning to face her.

"Don't say stupid things. You're not stupid, Mel."

"I'm-"

Anna lifted her head and looked at her. Dark crescents looped beneath her eyes. Her skin was dry and pale. Sickly. "He's told half the town I'm a cam girl."

"But that's not true," she said.

"No, and it's easy to find that out. He says that so people isolate me, and if I'm isolated then maybe I'll quit and he can control me again. Control us." She sighed, and was quiet for a moment. "You know what he's like. A court isn't going to let you stay with someone he can convince is a bad role model without a stable salaried job. You're a minor."

"I guess that's true."

"He's obsessed with image," Anna said. "Not just building up his own, but tearing down others' too. He has a talent for it. We could have the best lawyer in the country and it still wouldn't matter."

The two girls fell into silence. They made their way up the hill, listening to the forest. Anna's breath came out laboured beside Melissa, but she continued on with a smile whenever she turned to check on her and it fueled Melissa onwards as well.

They reached the top of the hill. The trees broke and a big grassy field scattered with rocks rewarded their efforts. Cautiously, they walked over to the far edge of the hill, and looked out at the sea of green waving back at them in the wind.

Melissa realised then that her choice was obvious.

She grabbed Anna's hand, turned to the trees, and screamed. Her sister joined a few seconds later, half-laughing. Their laughter and their screams echoed through the air, swung over the treetop, squeezed through the hills and mountains and, Melissa liked to think, rolled all the way out to sea.

Melissa knew what she wanted. Her wish was quiet, humble, ordinary. She never wanted to give up the trees, or the grass, or the hills, or the rocks, or the creek. She wanted a normal life. She wanted normal rules. She wanted to be heard, and to shape a life she loved. Instead of turning away from the world, she wanted to turn outwards to face it.

She wanted to be brave enough to live.

On the way back home, they stopped at the grocery store. The two girls bought everything they would need to bake a pie.

-o-