Chapter 23: Blame Game
I must have been way more tired than I thought because the next thing I remembered was my mom leaning over me, worry plain.
She was about to be very unhappy.
"Syd," she helped me sit up, my comforter collapsing around me as I rubbed the blur from my eyes. "What happened?"
I could tell from her stricken look she already knew her wards were gone.
"Not sure," I answered, getting up from the floor and gathering up my pillow and quilt. "But Gram's safe and sound, so no worries." I yawned, almost missing the fear on her face.
"Did she get out?" Mom stared at the door, arms hugging herself.
"Yeah," I said, "but she made the mistake of turning the outside light on. I spotted her and reached her in time. Man, I don't know what the Griesan's did to her but she was stirring up one whopper of a spell." I grinned.
Mom spun on me. "This isn't funny, Sydlynn," she snapped. "Not even a little bit."
My defenses slammed up so hard I barely had time to brace myself. "She's safe, isn't she? So are the neighbors."
"This time," she said. "What happened to the wards?"
"I have no idea," I answered. "They were gone when I got here."
"She couldn't have," Mom talked more to herself than me, shaking her head. She stared at the door again, "not from the inside. You're sure you didn't let her out?"
I scowled at her. No way was she pinning this on me. I saved Gram's butt twice in twenty-four hours and this was the thanks I got?
"I think I'd remember cutting through your wards and letting the crazy lady out, Mom," I said in my most biting tone.
Wow. I'd never seen that particular expression on her face before. Was she mad.
"You will have more respect for your grandmother in my presence," she was really angry, the most angry I'd ever seen her. Didn't do much to disarm me either, because part of me knew she was right. Still, I wasn't in the mood to be called on it.
"I will when you admit you screwed up and stop trying to blame me all the time," I shot back.
"I've had about enough of you, young lady," she snapped at me, eyes flashing, power building. So weird she lost control of her magic like that. I had a flash of real concern. Something about my mom felt foreign, like I was looking at someone wearing her body. The instant passed and good old Mom came back full force, so much so I doubted what I saw.
"Don't blame me your wards fell apart," I said. "I was the one who stopped her from annihilating our block, remember? Geez, you'd think you'd be grateful or something."
"My wards did not just fall apart, thank you very much," she flared back. "You've been dropping power all over the place lately and with your untrained abilities..."
"I didn't let her out!" I was shouting now. "I don't know who did. But it wasn't me."
"Fine," Mom waved her hand at me, going back to study the door. "Enough, I don't want to have this conversation tonight. Go to bed."
She dismissed me. Not just me physically, though. She dismissed my honesty, as though she didn't believe me but didn't have the time to tell me so. She didn't trust me. Worse, she thought me capable of hurting my grandmother. It tore a huge hole inside I felt like a blow.
All the frustration, all the anger and pent up emotion welled up in one huge ball of fury, filling in the gash like a flood of fire. I gathered my stuff to me and clenched my teeth against the desire to call my power and smash her with it. Even I had more control than that, although it would have served her right. She expected me to be a failure, didn't she?
I can only imagine the energy I emanated that turned her toward me.
"Never again," I snarled. "You can take care of it yourself the next time Gram escapes and decides to nuke the neighbors."
Her face hardened. "Go to bed. Right. Now."
I glared at her, anger changing to something cold and hard. The wall that crumbled between us the last few days repaired itself, growing taller and thicker with each passing second.
I drew myself up and clutched my stuff with both hands, putting every ounce of my bitterness and contempt into my face.
"Goodnight, Mother." I said and walked away from her.
Safe in the confines of my room, I threw a few choice pillows around to satisfy the burning rage I clutched to me like a blanket. Part of me worried she was right, maybe it was me that released Gram. But I knew in my heart I was innocent, despite the guilty verdict she already passed. Needless to say I had very little sleep and what I did get wasn't restful.
When I woke up the next morning for school, I was in very foul humor, so much so, in fact, I literally threw on the first pair of jeans and hoody I could find, threw my messy hair back into a pony tail and said good enough. The beauty brigade could kiss my ass.
Whispers in the kitchen halted abruptly when I walked in. I felt the rolling fury start up at the sight of Erica hovering over my mom.
Why couldn't she mind her own damned business?
I ignored both of them, rigid with control, back stiff as I pulled open the fridge door and grabbed my lunch. The contents rattled with the force of the motion.
"Syd," Erica started. "Can we-"
I spun on her so fast I almost dropped the paper bag, boiling over.
"How can you possibly imagine anything you can say to me will change what happened?"
Erica stepped back, as if I was someone she didn't recognize.
"I wanted to talk to you about last night."
"Maybe if you were there," I tried not to snarl at her, "which you weren't, I'd like to hear your opinion. But since you weren't," I stressed it for the second time, just in case she decided to push it, "I couldn't care less what you think."
"Syd!" Mom said, playing the outrage card. "Don't speak to Erica like that. I asked her to talk to both of us. To mediate, since we seem to need help communicating these days." She shot a grateful look at Erica who smiled back. "She's trying to help."
I was so not in the mood for tag-team coven. This was classic in my family. Everything was dealt with in witch fashion, mediated, talked to death. I was sick of it and sick of them.
"This is so typical of you," I said to Mom, the boiling getting to a level that scared me. "Big bad witch, stronger than God, and you don't have the courage to admit you were wrong. Mediate, sure, convince me it was my fault and clear your conscience, you mean."
Mom stepped forward, angry again. Erica took her arm, concerned, but my mom shook her off.
"I was worried about Mother last night," she said. "No matter what happened, I know if you were involved you would never have let her out on purpose."
Still in blame mode. Naturally. I wanted to laugh and scream at the same time. "Really? Wow, you don't know me at all!" The sarcasm hurt my own ears. "Didn't you know? I let her out all the time, hoping she'll do something horrible so we can move yet again and I can be the new girl one more time before I hit my senior year." The kitchen vibrated with my contempt.
"I think that's about enough of that attitude, young lady," Mom snapped back.
This was not cooling our tempers, and Erica knew it.
"Please, Syd," she said. "This animosity is hurting both of you. You two need to work things out. Now. Before it gets blown even further out of proportion than it already has."
"Too late," I muttered.
Mom regained control of her temper and squared her shoulders.
"I'm sorry," she said. "But I was upset, worried about your grandmother. It doesn't excuse me losing my temper," she glanced at Erica and back to me, "and I am very sorry."
How nice.
"For what," I asked.
"What?" She seemed genuinely confused.
"What are you sorry for?" I was pushing her. I wanted her to say it for some reason, wanted her to put it into words, out in the world where we could both see it, examine it, feel it. I dug away at the open wound between us, making it bleed all over again.
"For losing my temper," she said. "I've apologized, Syd. I was wrong."
"You can't even say it, can you?" I wanted to throw something at her but wasn't willing to loosen my grip on the lunch bag. It felt like the ordinary weight and texture of it was the only thing holding me back. "Did you even tell Erica what you did?"
Mom's face stiffened, regret in her eyes. "Syd, honey, I never meant... I never meant to blame you and I should never have... have..."
"Accused me?" I shouted at her. "You practically called me a liar! To my face!"
"Syd," she said. "I did no such thing."
"You didn't believe me," I snapped back. "You never believe me. I'm always guilty, even when I can prove I'm innocent."
"Maybe if you took a little responsibility now and then..." Mom faced me, anger rising once more.
"I am so sick of that word," I shook my head, choking out a bitter laugh. "You have no idea."
"Get used to it," she answered. "It's a grown up thing, and you're almost there."
My rage cooled to a simmer. "This is going nowhere. I have to get to school."
I stormed for the door. Erica made a grab for me but I pushed her off and escaped the kitchen.
Great start to a Wednesday.
***
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