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hating everything on the other side of the door.
    His dad was gone, like always. Beatrice, or “other mother,” as Milo called her, sometimes to her face and always when she wasn’t around, was left in charge of the house.
    Milo’s dad worked as an analyst for Conway Industries. While most people who worked for the company lived on the island, or on the mainland, Milo’s dad was out of the state more often than not. Milo figured his dad was good at his job given the money he made. Beatrice was good at hers, too, though her job was much easier since her main duties apparently were to spend his money and be a bitch.
    According to Beatrice, Milo just didn’t appreciate her or see things from her perspective. She said that as far as hard jobs went, being a stepmother was right up there with being an air-traffic controller. Milo thought that was bullshit, particularly since he was 17 and practically an adult. He wasn’t sure what she did on any given day that could be deemed a parental responsibility, save for the occasional dinner she made.
    He’d given her plenty of chances, but she’d blown every one, starting with the day his dad announced they were getting married. She stood beside him, smiling like she was standing in an open vault, and said, “You can call me Mom!”
    Thanks Beatrice, you evil bitch.
    She wasn’t his mother, and never would be.
    It was hard enough that his mom vanished without a trace when Milo was 12. Even harder when everyone thought she was one of many victims to jump from Tanner’s Pass, and her father had her declared dead.
    Perhaps his father could replace her, but that didn’t mean Milo had to accept Beatrice.
    He hated how she always tried to insert herself into his life and get her to call her “mom.” The worst was when she started her sentences with, “Your father and I always …” as though she had to constantly prove their union by broadcasting the great times they were having when Milo wasn’t around, making it all too easy to imagine doing everything from spending money Milo’s father actually had to work for, to doing things in the bedroom Milo didn’t even want to think about.
    Milo still remembered the minute he went from merely wishing she wasn’t in his life to actually hating her. He had been caught getting drunk with Manny, and the next day had come home to a “family meeting.”
    He sat on one couch while his “parents” sat on the other. Beatrice said, “Did your mother bring you up to do that?” while his dad sat beside her, either wondering the same thing or acting like too much of a coward to say otherwise.
    Milo had hated her ever since. His mother wasn’t an alcoholic. And she wasn’t a drug addict, despite the rumors. She was clinically depressed and on several medications, any of which might explain her disappearance.
    Beatrice called from the other side of the door. “Milo, honey, I’m making lasagna. Would you like it with sausage or without?”
    Milo ignored her, like he had for the last hour she’d been trying to get his attention and draw him from his room. He almost felt bad since she seemed uncharacteristically genuine, at a time when he expected to see her at her worst.
    Beatrice didn’t like it when things didn’t go according to plan, especially when her plans included leaving the island for yet another weekend getaway. She and his father were scheduled for a weekend at The Fairmont Sonoma Mission Inn & Spa in California Wine Country. They were booked and ready to leave Friday afternoon as soon as his dad came home early from work. But they had to cancel everything when they heard about the shooting at school.
    The quiet house had heard maybe 500 words the entire weekend. His dad, the only one who even tried to make conversation, had to fly to New York for another conference on Tuesday.
    Beatrice’s plastic personality made it pretty easy to see through her shallow attempts to mimic emotions. She could give a shit about Milo, and was