Avery turned to Bonnie in surprise, who, in turn, gave Lucky an outraged look.
“I’m not training because I’ve been helping you, you ungrateful little shit!” Bonnie said, as Lucky spun away from her.
“Bonnie and Pavel?” Avery thought about it for a moment. “Bonnie and Pavel!” she said again and smiled to herself.
Avery had never understood why Bonnie stopped working with Pavel after her last fight. Sure, it was a bad defeat, but Pavel had thrown in the towel to protect her, anyone could see that. She had always suspected Pavel was a little in love with her sister. She knew trainers and their fighters shared a unique bond, but it was hard not to notice the rapturous way Pavel watched Bonnie during her fights, flinching each time she was hit as though he, too, was absorbing the blow. For all his Russian stoicism, he’d always lit up like a jack-o’-lantern whenever she was around. And now, it turned out Bonnie was harboring a candle of her own. It made sense. She and Pavel were so similar, Avery thought, which was part of why they’d never gotten together. Both strong but shy, gentle but lethal, like two great orcas circling each other in the wild, never quite swimming abreast.
“Stop saying our names like that!” yelled Bonnie. She glared at Lucky again. “I cannot believe you. After everything I did for you this week?”
“Okay!” interjected Avery. “Someone explain to me what the fuck you two have been doing this past week.”
“Don’t,” said Lucky, looking hard at Bonnie.
But Bonnie only shrugged. Whatever allegiance they’d brokered, Lucky had betrayed it.
“I was helping her get clean,” she said quietly. “She’s been sober since she got here.”
Lucky rounded on her.
“Fuck you!”
Bonnie gave her a bewildered look.
“Fuck me? Fuck you!”
“Wait a minute!” called Avery, holding up a hand to each of them.
She could feel hope squeeze into the room like a parade blimp, unwieldy and out of place. But there it was: good news.
“You’re clean, Lucky?” she asked, trying not to let the excitement creep into her voice too obviously.
Lucky rolled her eyes and tossed herself away from them onto the bed. She grabbed a pillow to her chest, as if shielding herself.
“No! Well, yes. But it’s not like that. I’m just taking a break. And I’m not going to go to one of your fucking meetings, so don’t ask.”
“What do you mean taking a break?” asked Bonnie quickly. “I thought…I thought you were trying to stop for good?”
“Isn’t the whole thing meant to be a day at a time?” Lucky countered.
“But you said…Y-you said you’d stopped stopped,” stammered Bonnie. “Now you just want a break?”
“I’m not like her,” said Lucky, pointing at Avery. “She couldn’t handle it. I can.”
Avery released a snort of disdain. What was she talking about, handle it? She handled it by staying sober the past ten years and building a successful adult life. A life, she had to admit, she was currently doing a good job of burning to the ground, but Lucky didn’t know that. She should be so lucky to handle things like Avery!
“And Nicky?” Bonnie asked. “What about her?”
“That’s completely different,” said Lucky.
Bonnie gave Avery a desperate look.
“She said she was ready,” she said.
“I was!” cried Lucky. “I am! I don’t know. I just don’t need all this pressure from you two.”
“It’s not pressure,” said Avery. “It’s concern. We’re concerned about you.”
“Well, I don’t need your fucking concern! Stop projecting onto me. I’m not you, I’m not Dad, I’m not Nicky. I’m just me.”
Avery turned away, trying to keep her cool. Lucky was already making excuses for herself. It was typical of her youngest sister to wheedle out of any responsibility. Avery had once heard that mice didn’t have collarbones, which was how they could fit through holes a fraction of their size. That was how an addict functioned. No collarbones—or, for that matter, spine. She turned back to Lucky.
“You’re being spineless,” she shot. So much for keeping her cool. “At least take responsibility for who and what you are.”
“Don’t you realize that I miss her every second of every fucking day?” screamed Lucky. “But she’s not here, so I’m doing the best I can without her. Why is nothing I ever do good enough for you?”
“Please! Spare me the self-pity.” Avery threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “You are not the only one who lost her. We knew her longer than you did anyway!”
This was a ridiculous claim and Avery knew it, but she was too infuriated to form a rational argument, which only made her more furious. Lucky let out a laugh of disbelief.
“Do you hear yourself? Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you knew her better. Neither of you knew her like I did.”
“We all knew her differently,” said Bonnie to the ceiling above her, seemingly resigned to the fact no one would listen. Ever since Lucky had suggested she wasn’t planning on staying sober, the fight seemed to have gone out of her.
“Jesus, Lucky!” exclaimed Avery. “I’m so sick of you acting like it’s worse for you than for anyone else. You didn’t know her best. She was just more willing to put up with your bullshit than the rest of us.”
Lucky stepped away from her as if pulling back the arrow on a bow, looking for her target.
“I do know that she thought you were a judgmental bitch.”
