Page 1 of Impressing Brett

Prologue

Twenty years ago…

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Lacy

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“No, Mama. No. You can’t be gone. You can’t leave me.” I rock back and forth, hugging my knees to my chest. The tears won’t stop. They’ve been falling for three days ever since my mother died. I’ve gathered all my favorite dolls to keep me company while I sit in the dark in the back of my closet.

I have my mother’s favorite cardigan wrapped around me. It still smells like her. When will it stop smelling like Mama?

I squeeze my eyes closed. If I just sit here in the closet, I can pretend none of this happened. I can pretend my mother didn’t get sick and die. I can pretend I’m not alone in the world.

I shouldn’t be alone. I still have my father. He’s somewhere in this large house. I can hear him banging around. I think he’s angry with my mama for leaving, mostly because he’s stuck with me.

I hate him. He’s mean and angry all the time. He says my mother babied me. He says I have to grow up now, but I don’t want to. I’m only twelve. I still want to be a child. I want Mama to rock me. The last time she held me in her arms was two weeks ago. I can still feel her touch. It’s warm on my cold arms if I imagine it really hard.

Stomping in the hallway makes me hold my breath, and I flinch when my father’s booming voice fills my room as the door slams open so hard it hits the wall.

“Lacy, where are you?” he shouts. “Are you in that damn closet again?”

I hold my breath. It’s not like he won’t find me. Of course, he will, but I don’t want to come out.

“You have to stop your whining. She’s gone. You’re too old to behave like this. You need to take more responsibility around here. I hate that she babied you. It did you a disservice. I shouldn’t have let her indulge you.”

I cover my ears, but I can’t block out his words. He’s too loud. Angry. Always angry.

“Come out of that damn closet,” he yells.

I whimper. Why can’t he leave me alone and let me grieve?

A strange sound makes me flinch, and I move one hand from my ear and lean forward to try to discern what I’m hearing. It sounds like a plastic trash bag being shaken open.

When I crawl forward a few inches to peek around the edge of the closet, I find my father stuffing the bag with my things. My heart races as I stare in horror.

My toys. My stuffed animals. My games. My coloring books. He’s filling the bag, hurrying around like a madman as if he needs to get everything in the black plastic bag as fast as possible.

I scamper out of the closet. “Dad, what are you doing?” I run toward him and reach for the bag.

He jerks it out of my grasp and narrows his gaze on me. “Go start dinner. Lord knows you watched your mother cook often enough. It’s time for you to step up to the plate.” He points at the door. “Go.”

I shake my head defiantly, tears running down my cheeks. “Why are you putting my toys in the trash bag?”

“Because you’re not a child anymore, Lacy. You’re too old for these things.” He keeps filling the bag.

I’m frozen to my spot. Horrified. “No. Please. Stop. I’ll go cook. I promise. I’ll help out. I’ll do Mama’s jobs. Let me keep my toys.”

He spins around and points at the door. “No. Enough. Go. This room needs to be fitting for a young woman, not a child. Starting now.”

Chapter 1

Twenty years later…

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Lacy

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