Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Blood Wounds

by Susan Beth Pfeffer


After Willa's estranged father goes on a killing spree in Texas, she and her mother are horrified to learn he's headed their way. Under police protection, Willa begins to tease out secrets from the past before going to Texas herself to learn more about the family she never knew--all while keeping her own dangerous secret. A tale of love and deception from the New York Times bestselling author of Life As We Knew It.

Format: Paperback
ISBN-13/ EAN: 9780547855066
ISBN-10: 0547855060
Pages: 256
Publication Date: 09/04/2012
Carton Quantity: 24
Grade Level: 9,10,11,12
Age Range: 14,15,16

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“Willa’s frankly portrayed grief, confusion, and uncertainties will have a strong impact on readers.” –Publishers Weekly, starred review

Sixteen-year-old Willa is fortunate to have a happy blended family. But a frantic phone call from Pryor, Texas, shatters the calm. Willa’s birth father has murdered his second wife and daughters . . . and the police think he’s on his way east to hunt down Willa and her mother. As this disturbing tragedy inevitably exposes family secrets to Willa and her community, she struggles with her own destructive secret

Susan Beth Pfeffer

Susan Beth Pfeffer is the author of many books for teens, including the New York Times best-selling novel Life As We Knew It, which was nominated for several state awards, and its companion books, The Dead and the Gone, This World We Live In, and The Shade of the Moon. She lives in Middletown, NY. Read More


part one

[happy families]

one

I think even if nothing had happened the next day, even if my life had stayed just as it was that night at supper, I’d still remember what Jack said. He has that way of startling me by saying something totally unexpected but then, when I think about it, something that makes perfect sense, something I should have known all along.

We were all at the supper table. It was Wednesday night, and Wednesday nights we eat together. Jack has Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, but we could never manage two nights in a row. Mom’s committed to completing her bachelor’s degree, so she takes a couple of classes during the day and one or two at night. Brooke always has something: lacrosse, dressage, violin, not to mention her dozens of friends. Alyssa has tennis plus the swimming and yoga she uses for cross-training. And I keep busy enough too, with choir and the occasional school play.

But Wednesday nights we eat together. Jack does the shopping and the cooking, and whoever is around pitches in to help. This time Alyssa made the salad and Brooke set the table. I had a choir rehearsal and got home only a few minutes before suppertime.

I wouldn’t remember any of that if everything hadn’t changed the next day. But I’m sure I would remember what Jack said.

Mom was telling us about her nineteenth-century literature class. Mom wants to be a fourth grade teacher, and fourth grade teachers don’t need to know much about nineteenth-century literature, but it’s always bothered her that Jack’s so well read and she isn’t. And Val, Brooke and Alyssa’s mother, who lives in Orlando, sends them lots of books, current bestsellers mostly, but sometimes a classic she thinks they should read.

"Have you decided what you’re going to do your paper on, Terri?" Brooke asked Mom.

Mom took a bite of the tilapia and shook her head. "I’d like to do it on Jane Eyre," she said. "But my professor said she’s read too many papers on Jane Eyre and we have to pick something else. She said not enough students write papers on War and Peace, but I’m not even sure I’ll finish it before the final. War and Peace is awfully long."

"I don’t like long books," Alyssa said. "I think there should be a rule that books can’t be more than two hundred pages."

"There’d be a lot fewer good books with that rule," Brooke said.

"Yeah," I said. "But there’d be a lot more trees."

"You know something," Jack said, as we sat at the table, eating and laughing, "Tolstoy was wrong."

"About what?" Brooke asked, helping herself to the string beans.

"Who’s Tolstoy?" Alyssa asked.

"He wrote War and Peace," Mom said. "And a lot of other very long books. What was Tolstoy wrong about, darling?"

"He said all happy families are alike," Jack replied. "Unhappy families are all different."

"What’s wrong about that?" I asked.

"Well, look at us," Jack said. "We’re a happy family. But we’re not identical to other happy families. Happy families come in their own shapes and varieties, same as the unhappy ones."

"Are we going to stay a happy family if I go to USC?" Brooke asked.

"I thought you were going to North Carolina," I said, "and take that lacrosse scholarship."

"I haven’t decided yet," Brooke said. "So, Dad, how happy will we be if I pick USC instead?"

"North Carolina’s kind of equidistant between us and Orlando," I said. "If you go to USC, we’ll hardly ever see you."

"Brooke said she hasn’t decided yet," Mom said to me.

"I know," I said. "I heard her."

Jack looked straight at Brooke. "Have you talked to your mother about it?" he asked.

"Not yet," Brooke said. "We’ve both been too busy to talk."

"Speaking of your mother, she called today," Jack said. "There are some changes in plans for your spring vacation."

"What changes?" Alyssa asked. "She’s taking me to Brussels, right? For the tournament?"

"Dad, it was all set," Brooke said. "Terri and I were meeting Mom in Maryland for my dressage test. Then she was coming back here to take Lyss to Brussels. What happened this time?"

"First of all, I would appreciate it if you didn’t use that tone of voice when you’re talking about your mother," Jack said.

"I’m sorry, Dad," Brooke said. "But I know I’m not going to like what’s coming."

"No, it isn’t that bad," Jack said. "Your mother’s trip to Munich was postponed, so she won’t be able to come here."

"But I can still go to Brussels," Alyssa said, and I could hear the panic in her voice. "Daddy, it’s my first international tournament. I’ve got to go."

"Your mother understands that," Jack said. "So she asked her parents to fl y here. Gram will go with you and Terri to the dressage test, Brooke, and Grandy will take Alyssa to Brussels." He smiled at his daughters. "Monday, Gram and Brooke will fl y to Switzerland for a few days of skiing, then go on to Brussels, and you’ll all fl y back together."

"Mom was going to see me play," Alyssa said. "I want her to see how good I’ve gotten."

"She wants to see it too," Jack said. "She’s hoping to get to Brussels for the quarterfinals."

None of us asked what would happen if Alyssa didn’t make it to the quarters. She always did.

"Lauren’s in Europe, isn’t she?" Alyssa asked me.

Lauren is my best friend, my only real friend outside of the kids in choir. She’s spending her junior year abroad.

"Spain," I said. "Madrid."

"I was looking forward to being home for the week," Brooke said. "Have a do-nothing vacation, like Willa."

"Willa’s going to keep busy enough," Mom said. "She’ll be working on turning her B’s into A’s."

"Willa’s grades are fine," Jack said. He smiled at me. "Maybe we’ll take an overnight trip to Washington," he said. "Go to the Smithsonian. Tour the White House. What do you say, Terri? Think we could swing that?"

Mom nodded. "That sounds nice," she said.

"Good," Jack said. "It’s settled. Brooke and Alyssa with their mom and grandparents. You and Willa and me with the president."

Once, when I was eleven, before we moved so Brooke and Alyssa could live with us, Jack found me sitting on the kitchen floor, crying. He asked me what was the matter, and I told him that all the girls in sixth grade were prettier than me.

"Oh, pumpkin," Jack said. "You don’t want to waste your pretty years in middle school. Not on middle school boys. Wait until they’re ready to see how beautiful you are. High school, or even college. You can hold off until then, can’t you?"

"Will I really be pretty then?" I asked him.

Jack helped me up off the floor and hugged me. "You’ll be as pretty as you want to be," he said. "And all the boys will notice."

I’m sixteen now, and a long way from beautiful, but I’ve noticed that on days when I feel pretty, the boys in my school do seem to notice. And I’m glad I didn’t waste my pretty years on middle school.

That night, at supper, I knew we really were a happy family. Happy didn’t mean all singing and dancing. Brooke and Alyssa weren’t shy about letting Mom or Jack know when they were unhappy about something. There were battles of will, fl ashes of temper.

Bu...


"This intense psychological drama, showing the brightest and darkest sides of humanity, offers remarkable acts of courage and disturbing images of domestic violence. Willa's frankly portrayed grief, confusion, and uncertainties will have a strong impact on readers."—Publishers Weekly, starred review

 

"The sheer drama of the plot will draw readers, and they’ll stay for an insightful exploration of the way families go both right and wrong."--Bulletin
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