Page 1 of The Wrong Side of the Law

Chapter One

Emily

What the hell happened?

No. Never mind. I already know what happened.

I’ve known for weeks. I knew it all along, but I played ostrich. I buried my head in the sand and hoped that it wasn’t really happening.

Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.

It was easier to believe that the registrar’s office was just disorganized, or maybe that Margaret’s bank had screwed up somewhere. But somewhere deep down inside I knew the truth: next semester’s tuition check hadn’t gotten lost somewhere along the way.

My stepmother had never sent it.

Francis might take every word that spews out of his mother’s mouth as gospel, but I don’t. Not anymore. I don’t care what my half-brother says: the pool maintenance guy didn’t quit on us out of the blue, nor did the landscaping crew.

They stopped coming because they weren’t getting paid.

As the taxi rolls up the long driveway, reality finally creeps in alongside the overgrown hedges that threaten to choke off the path.

I’m mad. More than that: I’mpissed. But at who?

On the one hand, my late father trusted Margaret with his estate. I should be angry with him, but my mind recoils from thinking ill of the dead, and anyway: I trusted my stepmother, too.

I’m definitely furious with Margaret, for wasting all that money. Could I have stopped her? I was just a kid. And maybe it’s not as bad as it seems? Maybe there’s still something left, something we can rebuild with?

The only person in this that I’m not pissed at is Francis. I’ve never been able to get really, truly angry with my kid brother. He’s eighteen now with a man’s full grown body, but that doesn’t matter: I still see the sweet, chubby toddler smiling up at me with pure, innocent adoration. How could I ever be mad at that face?

And there he is, in the flesh, coming out of the house to meet me. I barely have time to slip the taxi driver his money before Francis picks me up and spins me around as if I were no heavier than a feather.

The grin on his face says he’s just as happy to see me as I am to see him.

“Someone’s been pumping iron!” I tease, slapping his arms as he puts me down.

“Yeah, I’ve been doing some training,” he says, his face shining with pride as he heads around to the open trunk. “It’s a good thing, too. It’s definitely made a difference.”

The cabbie slowly counts out my change—I think he’s taking his time so that he won’t have to help Francis lift my heavy suitcases out of the trunk—and my brother carries on and on about… something.

“It’s made all the difference in the world,” he says. “Let’s face it: I’m good, but it’s not just the music that got me the job. I have tolookgood on stage while I’m up there, too.”

“And what job is that?” I ask, looking at him sideways. Looking good on stage and there’s music. Oh, no. “Francis, please tell me you’re not a stripping or something?”

“I- wait, what?” He’s thrown off beat by my question. “No! Emily, of course not! Didn’t you get my text messages?

Uh, no. No I did not. My cell service was cut off more than a week ago: it’s not just the landscapers and college tuition that the wicked witch of the southeast stopped paying. But of course I don’t say that part out loud. Francis seems so excited that it would be almost criminal to rain on his parade.

“Ugh. I don’t want to talk about my phone. I dropped it last week, and with exams and all, I haven’t had time to get a new one yet.” It’s only a small lie, after all.

“Seriously?” Baby brother’s eyes go wide. “You?Emily Wilsonspent an entire week without a cell phone?”

“Well, not a full week, no,” I said, forcing a chuckle as I follow my brother through the front door. “And why do you make it sound like such an achievement? But yeah, I’ve been without a phone.” And I also slept on my bestie’s couch because I got kicked out of the dorms and couldn’t afford a hotel, but I don’t think you need to pick up that burden just yet.

“Hey, Christmas is coming, sis.” Francis winks at me. “Never know what Santa will leave under the tree for you.”

Yeah, well, I’m not going to get my hopes too high. Not yet.

“So what’s the deal with this new job?” I ask, closing the door behind us.

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