Delia's Heart by V. C. Andrews Page A

to tell me that. I was afraid of another sabotage job. In fact, as soon as we drove up, I hurried upstairs and hid everything deep in my closet. Sophia had still not risen and come out of her room. Tía Isabela was furious about it and forbade anyone to bring her anything.
    “I do think it’s the perfect time for us to leave, don’t you, Jesse?” Edward said, smiling at his mother. “We have weak stomachs.”
    “You’re just like your father was, Edward, when it comes to facing unpleasantness.”
    “Maybe that’s because there’s so much of it here, Mother,” he snapped back at her. Then he smiled, said good-bye until next weekend, and started out.
    “You mean you’re coming back again next weekend?” she shouted after him.
    “We just can’t seem to stay away, Mother, which shoots down your theory about facing unpleasantness.”
    Jesse said nothing. I followed them out to their car.
    “Thank you for everything,” I told them.
    “Just keep your chin up, and don’t let either of them get to you,” Edward advised.
    They both hugged me. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell them about all the nasty rumors now, but I held back. Why let them drive off worried more than they already were? I stood and watched Edward’s car turn out of the driveway, and then I walked back into the house. It was deadly quiet, but I knew that was a deception. Soon, as soon as Sophia was up and about, there would be a great deal of static and noise.
    However, Sophia had such a bad hangover from whatever she had done the night before that she didn’t get out of bed all day. Tía Isabela finally went up to her room to see about her at dinnertime and returned furious. I was afraid to ask anything. She sat fuming. Ten minutes later, Sophia appeared, looking like she had just risen from a grave. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes bloodshot, and her complexion pale. Even her lips were a pale red. She kept her hand over her eyes and leaned over her food.
    “I’m not hungry,” she moaned.
    “You should eat something, Sophia. And don’t give me that story about someone putting something nasty in your lemonade. I’m not a fool.”
    “Well, someone did!” she cried, and immediately cringed from the pain of shouting.
    “You know why you’re a dummy, Sophia? This is not the first time or the second you’ve suffered afterbeing so reckless, and if I had to gamble, I’d say you’re going to do it again and again.”
    “I’m going to throw up,” Sophia said, and she lifted her head slowly and glared at me. “I’ll tell you why I’m in such pain, Mother. It’s her fault.”
    “Her fault?” Tía Isabela smiled. “How, pray tell, is it her fault, Sophia?”
    “She put a Mexican curse on me, and she wouldn’t tell me what it was. It was probably this.”
    Tía Isabela held her smile, but the humor left a vacant mask. She looked at me.
    “What curse is she talking about, Delia? Does this have something to do with the dress?”
    “ Sí ,” I said. “Yes.”
    “Why did you tear up that dress, Sophia? That was a very expensive dress.”
    “It wasn’t deliberate. Alisha tried it on, and it ripped.”
    “She is lying,” I said softly.
    “I am not. You weren’t there. You were hiding in the bathroom.”
    “Enough,” Tía Isabela said. “We don’t believe in curses. That’s primitive. It’s ridiculous for you even to think such a thing. It’s just an attempt to pass blame away from yourself.”
    “I can’t believe how much you take her side now, Mother,” Sophia whined. Then she paused and smiled. “Maybe you’re more of a Mexican than you want people to believe. Maybe I should talk about it.”
    Tía Isabela’s face nearly exploded from the rush of blood into her cheeks and forehead. Her eyes bulged with rage. Even Sophia saw she had crossed some line. She tried to swallow and then quickly looked down.
    “I’m sick!” she screamed, and got up to run out before Tía Isabela could respond.
    Minutes seemed to