Page 107 of Versions Of Us

“Anywhere but here,” she mutters. She sighs, leaning her elbow on the window, propping her head up with her hand.

“Seriously, though. You’re gonna have to give me some direction. I’m not exactly from around here.”

And there isn’t much around here as far as I can see. Other than a tiny storefront I’m yet to see further signs of civilisation. When I glance out the window, I’m met with nothing more than a blur of blue and green.

“No shit. Like that’s not half obvious.” She laughs bitterly. “What exactly are you doing in Coledale?”

“Nothing. I’m on my way home.”

I’m taken aback by her abruptness but I’m also too exhausted to call her on it. I see a roadside diner up ahead and realise I’m suddenly ravenous, having not eaten since last night.

“It didn’t sound like nothing to me,” she argues, shrugging her shoulders casually.

“Really? What about you? You have some kind of habit of breaking into people’s houses and eavesdropping on their private conversations?” Now I can’t hide my annoyance.

This makes her laugh out loud, which only exacerbates my mood further.

“I didn’t break into anyone’s house. At least not today.” She shakes her head with a grin, then tilts her head in thought. “Not gonna deny the eavesdropping though.”

“Then what the hell were you doing climbing out of Greg Riley’s window?” I ask.

I pull the car into a parking space out the front of the roadside diner and pull up the handbrake. Her head spins in my direction, her blonde curls swishing around her like golden curtains.

“How do you know him?” she asks, eyeing me sceptically.

“I don’t,” I sigh. The answer to her question is too exhausting to comprehend let alone communicate. “What were you doing in that house then?”

“It’s not really any of your business,” she says slyly.

“Right. Says the girl that threw herself into my vehicle and demanded a ride,” I deadpan.

She rolls her eyes at me dramatically. “Whatever. That was my bedroom window,” she explains reluctantly. “Greg Riley is my father.”

“You’re kidding,” I say, my voice expressionless.

“Why would anyone joke about that?” She glances out the passenger window briefly and then her eyes return to mine, swirled with flecks of amber and green.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Nineteen,” she says defensively. “What’s it to you?”

I ignore her question, my mind working in overdrive to understand how this could be possible. I quickly do the sums in my head. There’s a five-year age gap between Kristen and this girl but Greg didn’t leave until Kristen was eight, which means that she had a sister she didn’t know about three years before he left. I’m almost positive that Pamela has no idea this girl exists either. She wouldn’t keep something like this from Kristen.

Was Greg Riley leading a double life long before they both realised?

“Where is your mother?” I ask.

“Ha. I wish I knew.” Sarcasm drips from her tone. “Look, if you’re gonna ask me twenty questions, can you at least buy me a burger first? I’m starving.” She raises an eyebrow and nods ahead at the diner in front of us.

I drag my eyes away from hers, the shock of this realisation beginning to set in.

Kristen has a sister. And she has no idea.

“Sure,” I agree.

I guess the two of us have a lot to talk about, although I’m not entirely sure it’s my place to say anything. We both exit the vehicle, but as I’m slamming the driver’s door shut, a black four wheel-drive screams around the bend, coming to a screeching halt right beside my car.

I hear the girl mutter profanities under her breath. Her hand comes to her forehead, brushing strands of hair away from her face. I notice a shift in her posture, the way her shoulders slump forward. As though she’s trying to make herself appear smaller.

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