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Back The Mother Next Door Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Author
  5. HALLOWEEN
  6. Seven Weeks Before Halloween
  7. ONE
  8. TWO
  9. THREE
  10. HALLOWEEN
  11. Six Weeks Before Halloween
  12. FOUR
  13. FIVE
  14. SIX
  15. HALLOWEEN
  16. Five Weeks Before Halloween
  17. SEVEN
  18. EIGHT
  19. HALLOWEEN
  20. NINE
  21. TEN
  22. HALLOWEEN
  23. ELEVEN
  24. TWELVE
  25. Twenty-Five Days Until Halloween
  26. THIRTEEN
  27. FOURTEEN
  28. HALLOWEEN
  29. FIFTEEN
  30. SIXTEEN
  31. SEVENTEEN
  32. EIGHTEEN
  33. NINETEEN
  34. TWENTY
  35. HALLOWEEN
  36. Eighteen Days Until Halloween
  37. TWENTY-ONE
  38. TWENTY-TWO
  39. HALLOWEEN
  40. TWENTY-THREE
  41. TWENTY-FOUR
  42. Eleven Days Until Halloween
  43. TWENTY-FIVE
  44. TWENTY-SIX
  45. Eight Days Until Halloween
  46. TWENTY-SEVEN
  47. TWENTY-EIGHT
  48. TWENTY-NINE
  49. HALLOWEEN
  50. THIRTY
  51. Four Days Until Halloween
  52. THIRTY-ONE
  53. HALLOWEEN
  54. THIRTY-TWO
  55. Two Days Until Halloween
  56. THIRTY-THREE
  57. The Night Before Halloween
  58. THIRTY-FOUR
  59. HALLOWEEN
  60. THIRTY-FIVE
  61. Halloween, Present Day
  62. THIRTY-SIX
  63. THIRTY-SEVEN
  64. HALLOWEEN
  65. THIRTY-EIGHT
  66. HALLOWEEN
  67. THIRTY-NINE
  68. HALLOWEEN
  69. FORTY
  70. HALLOWEEN
  71. FORTY-ONE
  72. FORTY-TWO
  73. FORTY-THREE
  74. FORTY-FOUR
  75. HALLOWEEN... NOW
  76. FORTY-FIVE
  77. Seven Months Later
  78. FORTY-SIX
  79. FORTY-SEVEN
  80. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  81. ALICE SWANSON’S
  82. Reader's Guide
  83. Questions for Discussion
  84. Booklist

“What do you mean?” Jackie, the wounded one, is crying now. She’s always been unstable.

“He won’t get away with this behavior.”

“And neither will she,” says Kendra, hissing the words like a snake, her dark eyes glittering in the reflection of the blaze. “She parades around like she’s better than us. Like our kids love her more than us. I cannot stand it.”

Pia, who up until now has been quiet, chuckles. She has no real stake in this game, but she’s willing to throw a few punches if needed. That’s what friends are for.

“Are you sure, though?” Alice asks. “Are you sure it’s true?”

Jackie tears up again as a response. “My baby told me so. She saw them together. ‘Daddy and the babysitter,’ she said. I could strangle her.”

The moms focus on the babysitter. They sharpen their darts, make her the target. They all agree they hate her. She has no place in this neighborhood. She is marring the Ivy Woods name. She revels in all the attention, dotes on it. They call her names to make themselves feel better. They call her names because they worry that they are getting older and uglier, because they worry they are losing control, because she represents what they’ve lost. They work themselves up, drowning in vodka and bourbon and sugar. Their voices crackle as loud as the flames beside them.

“But what can I do?” Jackie wrings her hands. The makeup on her face has smeared. It looks like she has a black eye.

“You’ve already had your chance,” Kendra snaps. She has never had the patience. She’s tired of having to clean up everyone’s messes, though she’s the only one capable of doing so. “Now it’s up to us.”

TWENTY-THREE

Kendra

I headed toward the cafeteria, a box of donuts in my arms. Class at Woodard had already let out for the day, but after-school activities echoed in the halls—a blubbering tuba, cheerleader shouts, laughter.

Someone could blindfold me, drive me around in circles for hours, then lead me inside that high school, and I’d be still able to tell where I was in an instant. Because of the smell. Industrial, bleach-mop, squeaky floor, plastic bitterness. Gym shorts sweat. Cheap teenage perfume and cologne that took me back to my hair-sprayed, high-top sneaker days.

God, I missed those days.

Halfway down a locker-lined hall, my purse strap slid off my shoulder, landing awkwardly in the crook of my elbow. As I set the donuts on the floor to adjust it, I noticed my phone, tucked in a side pocket, light up with a Facebook notification.

Ivy Woods commented on your post.

An eerie feeling traveled all the way up and back down my spine. But before I could click the notification, a call came. Sam. It would be around lunch time in California.