Page 73 of The Family Guest

My mother gasped. “Tanya, what on earth are you doing?”

“Get your hands off me!” I choked out. She tightened her grip. I began to cough, struggling for air.

“Tanya!” my horrified mother cried out again, weakly tugging at our exchange student’s arm. “Let go of Paige right now!”

“What the hell is going on here?” came a new, gruff voice.

It was my father, standing at the side door, with my little brother.

Releasing me, Tanya turned to face him. “Matt, Paige stole my laptop and won’t give it back to me!”

“Dad, I didn’t. Please believe me!”

Fat chance, I thought. I was still in his mind both a liar and plagiarist.

He narrowed his eyes at me, then looked to my mother for answers. She was devoid of all color and her body was swaying. It looked like she might faint.

Panic surged inside me. “Dad! Mom cut her finger really badly. She’s lost a lot of blood. I think you need to take her to the emergency room.”

Red with rage, Tanya stamped her foot on the floor. “Matt, do something! Tell your daughter to give me back my laptop!”

Ignoring her, my dad ran up to my mom. He eyed the blood-soaked towel around her finger. Gently, he unwrapped it, and upon seeing the ugly deep gash on her finger, alarm washed over him. A raging bloody river was still pouring down her digit and spreading all over her hand. His eyes wide with horror, he examined the ghastly cut.

“Jesus, Nat. You’ve done a number. Paige is right. You need to go to the ER.”

To my shock, she pushed him away. “Leave me alone, Matt.” Her voice was hoarse. Pained. She stood up slowly, then her body went limp. Just in time, my father caught her and lifted her into his arms. Effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing.

“We’re going to Cedars.”

“Dad, I want to come with you!”

“No, Paige. Stay here! Take care of your brother.”

“What about my computer?” shrieked Tanya. “I can’t do my homework without it!”

“We’ll deal with it when we come back. In the meantime, look around the house. It must be here somewhere.”

“Fine.” Fuming, she fired the word at him.

And then she turned and gave me the most scathing of all looks. If looks could kill, this would be it.

A shiver skittered down my spine. Someone could die tonight. And it could be me.

Impulsively, I reached for the knife my mother had been using.

And as Tanya stormed out of the kitchen, I held onto it for safety.

Hurricane Tanya.

Actually, she was more like a tornado as she blew through the house, tearing up everything in her wake. Will and I were on damage control. Following her from room to room. Cleaning up after her as she recklessly tossed cushions from sofas, turned chairs upside down, removed contents from cabinets, swept up corners of rugs, and more. The two of us didn’t want our poor mother to come home to this rampage. While I stayed close to Tanya, clutching the knife behind my back, I told Will to put the rest of the kitchen knives in the tool shed and to seal it with a padlock. This girl was insane. Better safe than sorry.

“So this is payback,” she seethed as she continued to ransack our living room. She was now digging through the liquor cabinet, madly flinging bottles onto the floor. “I stole your boyfriend. So you stole my laptop.”

“I didn’t steal your computer,” I said nonchalantly.

“Seriously, Paige, sometimes I think you’re a better actress than I am.”

I processed her words. She was practically confessing she was a fake—an imposter—but I still didn’t have the proof I needed.