Unspeakable Things(5)

“How lucky you are to have a creative father!” the guests would burble. “Your whole family is so unconventional. I wish my childhood had been like this! Do you know how lucky you are?”

I get why they said it, and sometimes they were so convincing that I’d begin to absorb a little bit of their dream fluff. That would last exactly as long as it took me to look around and see what the grown-ups were doing. My stomach twisted thinking about it.

“I can cook eggs quietly.”

“Not quiet enough,” Mom said.

Sephie strolled in. “I like cereal,” she declared.

I turned to glare at her but was too surprised by her appearance. She’d slapped on a full face of makeup. Probably she thought she’d be safe with Dad still in bed, but fat chance Mom was going to let her leave the house looking like some nympho in a ZZ Top video.

I coughed.

Mom kept scurrying.

I coughed again, louder.

Mom spared Sephie a glance. Her eyes widened, and then they grew pinched. Then her face fell slack-tired all of a sudden. “I’ll pack lunches for both of you.”

I puffed up. No way did Sephie get to leave the house looking like Mary Kay had sneezed on her when I wasn’t even allowed to shave my legs. Before I could formulate my argument, though, Sephie surprised me.

“Maybe you could give us a ride in?” she asked Mom.

I lost all my wind. Nice job, I told Sephie with my face. The hot rollers I’d used this morning had not gone as planned. A ride to school meant I could postpone introducing today’s hair to my classmates for as long as possible. That’s something with small towns. Everyone knows how you’re supposed to look, and when you show up different, you better nail it or else.

I most definitely had not nailed it.

“Uh-uh,” Mom said, unwrapping a loaf of homemade bread so she could slice six pieces. “I have to get to work to sign a grade-appeal form before seven.”

I thought quickly. If I ended up riding the morning bus, I could expect at the very least to be called Curly Temple. Possibly Roseanne Roseannadanna. “My science teacher said he needs empty planting containers for summer school,” I said. “Doesn’t Dad have some in the basement? You could drop off the appeal, drive us and those pots to Lilydale to help out another teacher, and be back to Kimball before your first class! Win win win.”

Mom’s eyebrows narrowed, but I could tell she was considering it. “Fine,” she finally said.

Sephie and I squealed.

“Your dad said they’re in the basement?” Mom asked, which was her way of telling us to go grab them before she changed her mind.

“Yep!” I said.

Dad preferred Sephie and I avoid our dirt basement and the barn, the two places he said only adults should go. I normally had no problem steering clear of the basement, which had looked like a grave just waiting for a body the one time I’d explored it. Sephie and I figured he was growing mushrooms, among other things, because of how the basement smelled and because he passed dried shrooms around like root beer barrels when his parties started. If I had Mom’s permission, though, and if it meant a ride to school, I was happy to dash down there. I turned toward the basement door and almost ran smack into Dad.

All three of us females froze, I think. I know I did, my heart trip-hammering against my ribs.

I backed up, avoiding meeting his eyes.

“I also said never to go in the basement,” Dad growled, low and dangerous. He was wearing his white Hanes, nothing else. Cheeks hot, I looked away from the fierceness of the hair at the top of his thighs, the same hair just above his underwear band. Sephie and I’d saved up to buy him a robe for Christmas. The only time he ever wore it, he left it open.

“Just to grab some old pots you’re not using,” Mom said. I didn’t like how her voice sounded like she was begging. “Cassie’s science teacher needs them.”

Dad’s silence lay like a weapon between him and Mom. No way was she going to disturb it first, she never did, and so he finally spoke.

“I don’t know what never means to you,” he said, “but it means never to me.”

Mom flattened like they do in cartoons when a character is squeezed between two stones and they look normal from the front until they turn to walk away and you realize they’ve been squished like a pancake.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right.”

Dad glared like damn straight I’m right, using his smirk and his eyebrows to point at her stupid. I didn’t move at all. I didn’t want him to notice my hair, or anything about my body.

“I was going to drive the girls to school,” Mom offered, her voice bright like winter glass.

Nononono, don’t give him something else to be mad at.

I risked a peek at Sephie. I could tell she was thinking the same thing. I didn’t know why she wanted the ride to school, but we’d both already gotten excited about it.

“Then you better get going,” Dad said, sneering at the clock. “Unless you have a time machine.”

I exhaled.

Mom glanced at the sandwiches she’d been making. I could see her calculating the money it would cost to buy us lunch versus the peace she’d have to cash in to stand up to Dad. “You’re right,” she said, shoving the loaf back into its bag.

She wiped at her eyes as she did it.