Land of Shadows Read Online Free

ended in the dining room and in front of a filled liquor cabinet. “What you want?” Shawnee asked.
    â€œLet Lulu choose,” Kimya said.
    â€œUmm…” I grabbed the only alcohol that I knew—the purple velvet bag of Crown Royal whisky. My father’s brand.
    On my third glass of 80-proof Canadian whisky and Shasta cola, I staggered to the bathroom and vomited in the toilet. Then I passed out.
    The next time my eyes opened, the digital clock on Shawnee’s desk read 8:43 P.M. Tori stood over me. Her lipstick and eyeliner were smeared, and her breath reeked of cigarettes and beer. “Get your bag and come on,” she spat, pulling me from the bed.
    Shawnee and Kimya had disappeared, and Miss Linda, arms crossed and frown in place, saw Tori and me to the front door. Each step I took tore a chunk out of my flesh—I’d be a Lilliputian by the time I climbed into my own bed.
    â€œThank you, Miss Linda,” Tori shouted as we headed to the sidewalk. “Sorry for the trouble.”
    The fresh air made it easier to breathe—I wanted to drink it and then bathe in it. My knees wobbled and the top part of me moved ahead of my lower half, like a fanned-out deck of cards.
    Tori trudged several steps ahead, actively ignoring me while rapping the lyrics of “Fuck Tha Police.”
    â€œMom home?” I croaked.
    She glared back at me. “What do you think?” One of her boyfriends had needed a good chew after dinner, and had left a fresh hickey as purple as a huckleberry on Tori’s neck. She grabbed a lighter and a pack of Kools from her purse and lit up. The cigarette’s fiery tip bobbed in the dark and smoke snaked around her head.
    â€œYou think I’m stupid, don’t you?” I asked.
    Tori said nothing and pulled on the cigarette.
    â€œWell, I’m not. My stomach was empty.”
    She blew smoke into the air, then, in her best Joan Collins voice, said, “You, darling, are a spoiled bore . Overprotected and scared of Jesus and mom and your own shadow. Can’t even get fucked up properly without needing somebody else to rescue you. You’re lucky I was home when Linda called.”
    Her words hit me in the gut, and just like that, tears and snot gushed down my face and onto my T-shirt already crusted with vomit, whisky, and soy sauce.
    Tori threw her cigarette into the street and reached into her purse again, this time pulling out a wad of tissues. She handed them to me and watched as I dried my face. “I have so much to teach you, Lulu.”
    At home, we retreated to our bedroom. “Take a hot shower,” my sister instructed as she pulled a set of my pajamas from the dresser. “So hot that it hurts. Then, pop three aspirin before you get into bed. Oh—brush your teeth. Twice.”
    Lessons one, two, and three.
    The next morning, the bright sun pulled me from sleep just five minutes later than my regular waking time. My head didn’t pound and my breath … well, it stank but not like a corpse had been reanimated behind my molars.
    I followed the fragrance of toast and bacon to the kitchen. Tori sat at the counter, dumping ketchup over her eggs. She wore the tank top version of her green-and-white Dorsey High cheer outfit.
    â€œHey,” I said, climbing onto the empty stool, “I don’t feel hung over.”
    The hickey on her neck no longer existed, courtesy of mom’s bottle of Fashion Fair Copper Blaze foundation. “How the hell would you know how ‘hung over’ feels?”
    I dropped my eyes—I didn’t know—and stared at the tattoo on her left biceps. “When did you get that?” I asked, jabbing at the black, swirling letters. “Who’s G-Dog?”
    She slapped at my hand. “So what’s your story? Mom’s gonna want to know why you came home last night. And if you say that Miss Linda brought you, then she’s gonna call over there and thank