Naresha sighed, examining the sheen on her right forefinger, and applying the buffer again. “I was afraid of that. I can’t really blame her, though. Can you?”

“No, I guess not. She’s had to put up with them so much longer than we have.”

“Well, Casey, you know that I don’t object in principle. Kathy has had a horrid existence here, and she deserves whatever peace she can find. But I must tell you, I’m becoming fucking sick of having to deal with The Bitch and The Bastard on a daily basis.”

Acadia lifted a hand. “I’ll testify to that. It’s getting harder and harder not to just go downstairs to the kitchen and get a big ass knife out of that butcher block.”

“No,” Naresha said firmly. “We’ve discussed that. I’m good, but I don’t think even I would be able to convince the police that it was a burglary or domestic dispute. They act disgustingly civil to each other in public. And you, my dear, have had a few rather public scenes with them.”

Acacia flushed. “Well, they piss me off.”

“I know that, darling. And your anger is perfectly justified. But it is so inconvenient to have a reputation for violent tendencies toward your parents if they’re found slaughtered.”

“We have got to get out of here.” Unable to stay still for long, Acacia jumped up and began prowling the room. Naresha watched her sister with half exasperated affection. Anyone who looked in the room would have seen a fifteen year old girl lounging on her bed, her eyes seeming to wander purposelessly around the room.

“Patience, my pet. We can begin our preparations, if that will calm you.”

“What preparations? We throw some clothes in a bag and blow.”

Naresha sighed. “And be picked up before we reach the next town. No, Acacia. Certain steps must be taken first. We’ll need ID, and not in Kathy’s name. We won’t want them to be able to track us through them once we leave. We’ll need to change appearance. Your hair and Kathy's is rather distinctive. I should think some different clothing would be in order, too. Inexpensive things, nothing flashy till we get far away. That will also have the added advantage that we can be prepacked, and they won’t notice any of our things missing.”

“What are we going to do about the ID?”

“Oh, that’s simple enough. We check the newspaper morgue for births of girls two or three years before Kathy’s birth. We can get a copy of their birth certificate at city records for just a few dollars. Then we use that to get an ID card in that name.”

“Why not a driver’s license?”

“Because you need to be eighteen to get one of those without parental permission. And you have to take Driver’s Ed. And we won’t be here that long, will we? Plus,” she said matter of factly, “We can’t drive. We’d never pass the test. Later, we can switch the name to whatever we like. Have you been giving any thought to that? I think you should choose. You’re so good with the meanings.”

Acacia shrugged. “Later. We can stick with whatever we come up with for awhile. I’ll want to see how our lives are going to turn out before I make a permanent decision. You know, I just thought...I’m damn glad The Bastard never adopted us. I think I’d really have to cut his throat if I had his name attached to me.”

“Amen.” Naresha buffed busily for a moment or so, then said quietly. “You know, he wants us to start dating.”

Acacia frowned. “Why didn’t I know that?”

“You were preoccupied with Kathy when he brought it up.”

“What the hell is he up to now?”

“You’re right, he is up to something. The very idea of another male having anything to do with us makes him foam at the mouth. You’ve noticed, of course, that we’ve had nothing but female tutors for the last five years.”

Acacia shrugged. “I didn’t notice, except to be happy about it. Does this have anything to do with why he’s going to let us start regular school at the beginning of next year?”

“Yes, I believe it does. I have a theory. It’s heinous, but then we know that isn’t beyond him.”

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s trying to set up a scapegoat.”

Interested now, Acacia sat back on the bed beside her sister. “How do you mean?” Naresha looked at her with flat eyes. “I think The Bastard has decided he wants to breed himself a new playmate, and he’s going to need someone outside the family to blame it on.”

Acacia gaped at her sister. If she had been speaking about almost anyone else in the world, Acacia might have at least had doubts. But Wallace Bernard? No, the idea of having a baby by his stepdaughter, and then molesting the child when it got a little older would make him cream his jeans. Acacia closed her mouth with a snap, then, biting off each word, said, “I would kill him. And then I would kill myself.”

“No you wouldn’t, dear. That’s not an option. Hurt them, not yourself, remember?”

Acacia nodded slowly. “So you think he wants us to get out in the world, start dating, so he can stop using rubbers, get us pregnant, and blame it on some poor idiot who just took us out.”

“Yes. I don’t think he plans on us actually having sex with anyone else. There just has to be the possibility that it happened. Then he’s in the clear. Oh, people might whisper behind their hands, but no one will do anything.”

“Yeah, well, I think The Bastard may have literally fucked himself out of the chance to make himself another bed warmer.”

Now it was Naresha’s turn to look interested. “What makes you say that.”

“He’s been raping us since we were seven. Do the math. I don’t think the equipment is in working order. I think that if we got pregnant we’d drop the kid before it could grow real bones.”

“Hm.” Naresha tapped the buffer against her chin. “We’ll have to go to a doctor and have that checked once we’re away. I may let you come back and kill him if it’s true. I may encourage you to come back and kill him. In any case, the departure date should be stepped up. Tomorrow is our day at the library, and that just happens to be right across from city hall”

Naresha flexed her fingers. They were feeling a bit odd the last few days. Achy. She flexed them again, and the nails felt like they were pulling. In fact, two of her cuticles split, and bled. Frowning, she licked away the thin trickle of blood, her tongue a soothing rasp.

“It will be nice to make myself a little closer to my real appearance once we’re away,” Naresha continued. “A good quality black wig, I think. I can cut it to style.” She glanced at Acacia. “We should cut your hair, too. And Kathy’s. It’ll make wearing wigs easier.”

“Fine by me. I only keep this mop because HE won’t let me get it cut. I still remember what he did the last time I took a pair of scissors to it.” She shuddered, despite herself. She hadn’t been able to get out of bed for two days, and she’d pissed bloody for a week. The Bitch, of course, hadn’t noticed.

“Where are we going to store our escape supplies? Nowhere around here. There’s no telling where him or Mrs. Logan will snoop.”

Acacia thought. Though sitting, she still swung her legs back and forth, almost congenitally unable to stay still. “Well...” she said slowly. “Isn’t the bus station just down the block from the library and city hall?”

“It is.”

“Aaaaand... doesn’t the bus station have lockers to rent?”

“They do. Clever sister.”

“Thank you.” The girls exchanged bright, feral smiles. If Wallace Bernard had seen his stepdaughter then, he might not have slept easy.

The next morning Mrs. Logan dropped what she thought was Kathleen off at the library. She watched the girl dart up the steps and into the cool, dim interior, shaking her head. She couldn’t understand how the child could stand to read so much. Seemed like that was all she did: read, and dance to that heathen music. It shouldn’t be allowed. Mr. Bernard was so careful about not letting her date, or wear make up, or smoke, or even chew gum.

A tiny voice in the back of Mrs. Logan’s mind, barely a whisper, said, “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t screw her every chance he gets...” But Mrs. Logan had long experience in ignoring that voice, and today was no exception. She drove off for her weekly matinee. They had a new romantic comedy at the Bijoux. Something with Doris Day and Rock Hudson. He was such a virile man...

As soon as the station wagon disappeared, Naresha trotted back down the steps, hitching her purse strap higher on her shoulder, and walked across to City Hall. She studied the list of offices in the lobby, and, ignoring the elevator, trotted down the stairs to the basement.

There was a middle aged woman working behind the counter. Ah, well. Naresha had been hoping for a man. They were much easier to distract, less likely to ask questions. Women often found Naresha...disturbing. Natural female competitiveness, she supposed. Too bad Kathleen wasn’t a little more stable. She had the gentle, humble demeanor that set the half blind like this woman at ease.

Well, thought Naresha, charm was out. It might put her back up. Better to go for sincerity. She could fake that quite well. She widened her eyes, put on her best earnest look, and approached with what she hoped was the proper amount of nervous deference.

“Excuse me? I was hoping you could help me.” I am but a humble supplicant. “I know you’re busy...” That True Confession’s magazine you tucked under your blotter will have to wait a moment. “Yes, I am. What do you want?”

Your throat in my hands, you snotty cunt. “I have to do a project for my sociology class, about genealogical records. I need to get a look at birth records for 1947 or 1946.”

“Well, which is it?”

Naresha smiled sweetly, feeling that dull ache in her fingers again. “Oh, ‘46 I suppose.” That’ll make us seventeen. I think we can pass for that without too much trouble.

The woman stared at her belligerently. “I’ll have to drag a heavy file drawer all the way over here. Can’t you just tell me what you want?”

Naresha upped the smile to saccharine level. “I won’t know what I’m looking for till I see it.” Bitch.

Grumbling, the woman stalked back to a bank of file cabinets and extracted one. Grunting ostentatiously, she waddled back over to the counter and heaved it up. “You can use that table over there. And don’t you get them messed up. I have to sort them.”

Naresha nodded, taking the drawer to the table. And the only reason I don’t upend this fucker before I leave is because I don’t want you to remember me, skank. Naresha seated herself and began to page through the birth certificates. Males were discarded automatically, as were Negroes and the limited other ethnics in the area. She also wanted a bland, American sounding name, nothing with too strong a cultural connotation. There were people who still held prejudices against the Poles and the Irish.

She found what she wanted in the ‘B’s. Danielle Ballard. There was actually a death certificate clipped to the record. She had been still born. Perfect. And she could call herself ‘Dani’.

Naresha continued pretending to flip through the file till the clerk’s lunch relief came in. Luckily it was a man. When the woman had left, she slunk up to the counter and gave him her best teasing smile. “Hello. I was hoping you could help me. I know you’re busy...” Same words, but oh, what a difference. She made her voice low and husky, and gazed up at him through her lashes. For good measure, she let the very tip of her tongue peek from the corner of her mouth.

His brain turned off as all the blood rushed south. “Why, certainly, little lady. What can I do for you?”

“How many days would it take for me to get a copy of a birth certificate?”

“What would you be needing it for?”

*As if that’s any of your damn business.* She let her head droop. “My big sister...” Small, poetic near sob. “She... would have been my big sister. She died when she was born. We want to move her so she can lie by Granny and Grandpa, but the cemetery...” Gentle bewildered look. “I... I’m afraid I don’t really understand it all.” Hesitant. “It’s so complicated.”

As expected, he melted. “Don’t worry, girly. I can get a copy for you right now. They came out with a new type of dry copier a few years ago. Lots neater than the mimeographs, and we don’t have to do it in the county seat for special paper. You just hand over the certificate from our records, and I’ll whip you off a copy in no time.”

Breathy. “Oh, thank you!” You big, clever man, you.

A few moments later the certificate for Danielle Ballard was tucked in her purse. The next stop was the Department of Motor Vehicles, to apply for an ID card. She had no trouble with the birth certificate. Naresha smiled demurely for the camera, and was told that it would be mailed to her in a week to ten days. That shouldn’t be a problem. Most mail went to a post office box in town. Very little was ever delivered to the house, as it was a fair drive from the city. She or Acacia should easily be able to intercept the card when it arrived.

She was making good progress. Next, she went to a large department store nearby and bought a cheap suitcase, and several pairs of pants, some shirts, and a couple of simple dresses, all very cheap. She was going to look like no one when she left town. She wasn’t going to register on anyone’s radar.

The last stop was the bus stop. She paid the ticket taker enough to cover a week’s rental, and got combination to a locker. Naresha stored the bags and suitcase in the little metal box, and tucked the receipt into her purse, along with the birth certificate, folding them both tight and tucking them in her wallet. Then she hurried back to the library.

There was still time to browse a bit, and choose a couple of books, before it was time to go out to meet Logan. Mrs. Logan shook her head as Naresha climbed into the car. “I don’t see how you can spend so much time in there.”

Naresha gave her an innocent look. “Why, Mrs. Logan. Where else would I go?”