Free Complicit by Stephanie Kuehn

her hands on her hips.
    â€œI want them back! Now! You can’t do this. You can’t invade my privacy.”
    â€œThis is a home, Cate. There’s no such thing as privacy.”
    â€œYou bitch. ”
    Angie’s face turned red. “If I ever spoke to my mother the way you’re speaking to me, I would have been put out on the street.”
    â€œYeah, well, I don’t care about you. Or your dipshit mother. Give them back!”
    â€œCalm down. You’re hysterical.”
    â€œGive them back! They’re mine !”
    Malcolm and I both stood watching them, mouths open in shock. I thought Cate was going to hit Angie the way she’d hit me, but instead she kicked an antique table, tipping some expensive-looking vase so that it shattered on the floor. Then she collapsed to the ground in a puddle of tears.
    â€œCome on,” Malcolm whispered in my ear. “Let’s go downstairs.”
    â€œDo I have to?”
    â€œYes, let’s let them work this out.” He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me with him. He led me into the kitchen. Sat me in a chair. Pulled out his secret stash of chocolate-covered almonds he thought no one knew about.
    I squirmed. Through the floorboards, I could still hear Cate crying, wailing. “What was that all about?”
    â€œI don’t know.” He looked down at me. “Is it upsetting you?”
    I rubbed at my stomach. “I want to see Cate.”
    â€œNot right now.” He handed me some of the candy.
    â€œThey’ve been fighting a lot recently.”
    â€œMother-and-daughter relationships can be complicated.”
    â€œYeah, but Cate said Mom stole something from her.”
    Malcolm frowned. He put his arms on the counter. “I’m sure you’ve noticed a change in Cate’s behavior over the past few months. Maybe longer.”
    I thought about it. What had I noticed? There had been a lot more tension in the house lately. Snapping and yelling and slamming doors. Swearing, too, and breaking rules. Most of the conflict revolved around Cate, it was true. My previously warm and happy sister was changing. Becoming angry. Unpredictable. Wild.
    â€œYour mom’s just worried that Cate might be … experimenting.”
    Experimenting? “With what?”
    â€œLook, Jamie. I know we’ve talked about the danger of using drugs before. Especially given how little we know about your genetic history, right?”
    I stared at the counter, cool swirls of marble, and felt queasy. Yes, we’d talked about this before and, yes, I understood the implications. My mom had probably been a drug addict. She probably came from a whole family of drug addicts and alcoholics and people with Issues. That meant Cate and I had those same horrible tendencies racing through our blood. Our own biological time bombs.
    Tick tick boom.
    I looked up at Malcolm. “Are you saying Mom found drugs in Cate’s room?”
    He bowed his head. Patted my hand gently. “Let’s just let them work it out. Okay?”
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    Two weeks later, Cate lay panting on the floor of my room. I sat at my desk. I was listening to Mingus and reading Percy Jackson. Or trying to.
    â€œThey’re sending me to that bitch doctor,” she growled.
    â€œWhat doctor?”
    â€œYours! The head shrink.”
    I put my book down. “You’re going to see Dr. Waverly?”
    â€œYeah. Angie says I have to. Or I can’t ride Cricket anymore.”
    I turned to look at her, all sprawled on the floor like some helpless sea creature.
    â€œAre you doing drugs?” I whispered. Then I held my breath.
    Cate sat straight up, like a vampire rising from a coffin. Her eyes were bloodshot and wild. “Why are you asking me that? Who said that?”
    â€œCate—”
    â€œThey’re starting rumors about me, aren’t they? They’re trying to set me up. They don’t want anyone to know the