Unspeakable Things(16)
“False alarm. It’s not Goblin!” I yelled, and air whooshed out of our mouths so loud it sounded like an accident at a balloon factory. The excitement of a potential Goblin sighting on the last week of school revved us all up, though, and Karl gave up trying to silence us, though his droopy eyes were still scanning the boys. Sephie forgot about her grade, and all us kids laughed and talked about summer, and I felt just fine right up until Karl pulled up to our driveway, Sephie and me the last two kids on the bus.
We stepped off into the road-dust cloud, blinking the dirt from our eyes. We were laughing and elbowing each other, but those good vibes fell away like a bad coat when we saw what was waiting for us. I don’t know about Sephie, but my pulse was fluttering because there stood Dad, a storm brewing in his face. His top lip was pulled back in the sneer that told you he was feeling bad and that you were welcome to join him, thank you very much.
CHAPTER 10
He stood, arms crossed, as the bus pulled away, and I forgot all about what Evie had told me, what I’d overheard in the bathroom, Clam, a Goblin sighting, Lynn getting her period before me, even Gabriel’s necklace because Dad’s face was pointed at us like a missile. The school must have called him in case Sephie “lost” the letter on her way home. Some kids would do that. Not us. We were taught never to lie to our parents.
A strip of sweat rolled down my back and was absorbed by my training bra. The cicadas were whirring, and the air smelled dusty purple from the lilacs tossing up their pollen like Mardi Gras floozies. I licked my lips and tasted salt.
Dad and Sephie stared each other down like gunslingers, except she was already wilting. When Dad was this mad, his green eyes whirred in their sockets, flashing dragon anger. I wanted to hide behind Sephie, but that would be cowardly.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, slicing through the tension. “What’s our chore list?”
He ignored me, which pushed Sephie over the edge. She had already gone floppy, but his stony silence forced her tears. “I’m sorry, Dad, but I’m failing chemistry,” she sniffled. “I might have to go to summer school.”
I grabbed her hand. “Might. Not for sure. I already told her I’d help her study. If she does well on the final, I bet she’ll pass the class, and no one will come out here to check up on her.”
I was talking too fast. Dad still hadn’t looked at me. He hadn’t spoken yet, either, which was worse than yelling times ten.
After another full minute of staring at Sephie like she was something grody on the bottom of his shoe, Dad abruptly turned on his heel and stormed up the driveway toward the house.
“Dad?” I yelled.
Sephie’s cries escalated to wails.
“It’s not that bad,” I soothed her. “Wait until he’s out of sight and let’s see if Mom is home.”
Mom could almost always coax Dad out of his spells. Sometimes I thought it was her main job on this planet, other than paying the bills. Dad veered off the driveway, paced through the orchard, and stomped into the house, slamming the door behind him. My shoulders drooped in relief. The house was the best possible location for him in this mood. He’d be out of the sun, and if he got a drink, he would calm right down.
I wasn’t worried about him spanking Sephie or anything. He’d never hit either of us, and he took great pride in that. His mom’s third husband had been violent. He’d beaten Dad for any infraction and sometimes just for shits and giggles, Dad said. That had lasted until Dad was big enough to fight back. Dad would pause, slyly, at this point in the story.
I’m not someone to mess with, his curled lip would say.
But there are worse things than hitting.
We crested the small hill between the main road and the house. The VW van was parked in front of the summer kitchen, which meant Mom was already home. I let out a huge breath. “Come on, Sephie! Mom’ll mix him a drink, and we can figure all this out.”
We jogged toward the house, scaring up dandelion fuzz. Meander, my calico kitty, dashed up and wanted me to pet her, but there wasn’t time. We rushed through the sunporch, dropped our backpacks on the living room table, and found Mom and Dad in the kitchen, where, sure enough, Dad held a tall drink, no ice.
Mom’s eyes were cramped when we entered, but she tossed us a smile. I was struck by how good-looking they were, even with Mom wearing her worried face and Dad his mad one.
“How was school?” she asked.
I made myself as tall as I could. “Sephie is failing chemistry, but I’m going to help her study and she’s going to pass, and it’ll be fine.”
Mom kept eye contact with Sephie even though her words were clearly directed at Dad. “I agree.”
Dad glugged his whole glass of clear liquid and held it out to Mom, who refilled it wordlessly with half vodka, half water.
When he had a good grip on that second glass, he finally spoke. “Sephie, you know how important school is.”
I’m positive I’m not the only one in that room whose butt cheeks immediately relaxed. Sephie stopped crying, and the squeezed look left Mom’s eyes, rushing out like bathwater after you’ve pulled the plug. You could tell how Dad was going to play it, always, by his first words after a silent time. Sometimes he’d go dark, or creepy. But he was saying normal things this time. Me, Mom, and Sephie were quick to encourage that.