Chapter 5

I reached over and picked up the bag of dried mango. Tore it open, unhurried.

The sticky sweetness coated my fingers. I pinched a piece and held it out toward her — right in front of her startled face.

"Isn't this your favorite?" My voice was soft. Almost tender. Completely flat.

Vivian's body went rigid. Clearly she hadn't expected this.

What is she doing? Is she trying to poison me?

Please. She doesn't have the nerve. She's probably just shaken up and trying to get on my good side.

She pushed down the suspicion, forced a smile. "Thanks, Serena. You always know what I like." She leaned forward, opening her mouth to take the piece of mango.

A half-second before it reached her lips, I turned my wrist.

The mango slice grazed her cheek and dropped to the floor.

Then I raised that same sticky hand and, with just my fingertips, slowly — deliberately, insultingly slowly — patted her smooth cheek, right over her expensive foundation.

"Vivian." I watched her pupils contract. I breathed the next word out, barely above a whisper. "Dirty."

The smile collapsed off her face.

She knows?

Impossible. I was so careful. I even paid someone to swap the names on that hospital report. She's too stupid to figure this out.

She's having a breakdown. That's all this is. She's losing it.

I pulled my hand back, the way you'd pull it back after touching garbage. I turned and walked to the balcony, picked up the used litter box in the corner — the one I'd been meaning to throw out — and carried it back into the living room.

In front of her wide, furious eyes, I upended the entire box into both bags of snacks.

Gray clumping litter, along with the damp, reeking clumps it had already absorbed, cascaded down over the neatly packaged snacks in a gray, stinking avalanche.

The sharp smell of ammonia hit the room like a wall.

Vivian's face went from white to green, then from green to a deep, mottled purple-red.

"Serena! What is wrong with you!" She finally dropped the act and screamed, stumbling backward, desperately protecting her shoes from the mess.

I dropped the empty box at her feet. The plastic hit the floor with a hollow, sharp crack.