Long Lost, стр. 23

“You know I’d be there if I possibly could.” Her mom squeezed Arden’s arm. “Now hurry and get your things, so your dad can still get you to the rink by nine.”

Somewhere in the back of Fiona’s head, an alarm began to clang.

“Wait,” she said loudly. “Dad’s driving me to Springfield to meet up with the Kostas.”

Her parents turned toward her. Her dad’s face was a careful blank. Her mom covered her forehead with both hands.

“Fiona . . . ,” she murmured.

“You didn’t forget, did you?” Fiona fought the panic that began to rise through her ribs. “Because it’s been on the calendar for weeks.”

“No. We didn’t forget,” said her dad. “We’ve just got an amalgamation of issues here.”

“But they’re Arden’s issues.” Fiona kept her eyes away from her sister’s face. Her sister, who had stolen her book and so much else. “It’s Cy’s birthday. They already bought me a ticket for the Egypt exhibit. You’re supposed to drive me halfway there. You promised.”

Arden made a noise like the start of a sob.

“Okay . . . let’s look at all the elements,” said her dad. “We can’t change the fact that Arden has a competition in Boston that lasts all day, and she needs to have a parent with her. We can’t change your mom’s shift at the clinic, which means I’ll be the one going to the city with Arden. We can’t change the location or timing of Cy’s birthday.” He turned toward her mom. “Could the Kostas pick Fiona up here?”

“You want to ask them to drive two hours out of their way?” her mom asked. “And then drive back to Hartford?”

“I could take a cab,” said Fiona desperately. “I’ll pay for it myself.”

“We’re not sending you on a long-distance cab ride alone, Fiona.” Her mom put a hand on her forehead again. “Girls, let the two of us talk for a minute.”

Fiona and Arden stepped through the kitchen door and stopped in the hallway just outside.

Fiona stared straight down, her eyes so hot and her thoughts so furious she could practically feel them burning her toes. This couldn’t happen. After days of loneliness, of waiting, of keeping this bright spot in front of her like a beacon, she couldn’t have it stolen now. She glared at Arden from the corner of her eye.

At first Fiona thought Arden was just staring down at her own feet. But then she noticed two big tears dripping onto the hallway floor.

Arden’s sock scuffed the drops away.

“Girls?” called their mom.

They darted back into the kitchen. And with just one look, Fiona knew. She knew from the way her parents were looking at her, not at Arden, with eyes that said, “We’re sorry” and “We love you” and “Please be understanding” and a lot of other things that she didn’t want to hear or see.

“Fifi,” her dad began.

“No,” said Fiona.

“If there were any other way—” said her mom.

“No,” said Fiona, more loudly. “This isn’t fair.”

“You’re right. It isn’t,” her mom agreed. “And we’re so sorry. But Arden can’t miss this competition. We just don’t have another choice.”

“We will make this up to you. We promise,” her dad added. “We’ll find another weekend when we can drive all the way to Pittsfield and pick everyone—”

“So I should just keep waiting and waiting, until maybe, someday, I can see my friends again?” Fiona broke in. “I didn’t do anything wrong! I shouldn’t be the one who gets punished!”

“It’s not a punishment, Fiona. There’s just no other option.” Her mom spread her hands. “Arden’s competition is—”

“NO!” yelled Fiona.

Her parents looked taken aback. Emotional explosions were Arden’s terrain. Fiona was usually the quieter, sulkier, secretive one. But right now, Fiona’s feelings were too huge to go anywhere but out.

“No!” she shouted. “I can’t see my friends for a single day, a day I’ve been looking forward to forever, because you’re choosing Arden over me?”

Her mother’s face was like a broken china plate.

“Fifi . . . ,” said her dad.

But Fiona had wheeled around and bolted out of the kitchen. She charged into the living room, threw herself down on the couch, and buried her head in the pillows.

She didn’t want to cry. At least, she didn’t want anyone to see her do it. She bit down on an upholstered cushion, muffling a scream.

A hand tapped her arm.

Fiona glared out between the pillows, expecting to see her mother. But it was Arden who sat beside her, perched on the edge of the coffee table.

“Hey,” said her sister softly. “Fifi . . . I’m really sorry. About the birthday party.”

Fiona stuffed her face back under the pillows.

“This isn’t my fault either. I swear,” Arden went on. “Mom and Dad were supposed to check the emails from the skating club to find out when I was scheduled to skate, but they read things wrong, or wrote them down wrong. It was a mistake. I’m sorry it’s getting taken out on you.”

Fiona didn’t answer. Her throat clenched. Her lungs felt like two burning paper bags.

Arden kept still for a moment. Her fingers brushed Fiona’s arm again.

“You know what?” said Arden, a ray of brightness filtering into her tone. “This isn’t one hundred percent bad. Now you can come to the competition.”

Fiona sat up so fast that the pillows around her tumbled to the floor. “I can come to your competition?”

Arden smiled at her obliviously. “To the Longfellow Open. You and Dad. It will be fun.”

Fiona dug her hands into the couch cushions. She wished that her fingers were claws. She wished she had something big and valuable to tear into tiny bits.

“I thought that you stealing my book, the one thing I’ve found here that matters to me, was the worst thing you could do. But that was nothing.”

“Your book?” Arden put on a confused look. “What—”

“This is all because of you.” Fiona plowed on. “We had to move here because of you. I had to leave my friends because of you. Now I lose my one chance to see them because of you. And you want me to just come and cheer for you