“One more thing,” he says. “Please.”
“What?” My thumb hovers over the button to end the call, but I don’t press it. I wait.
“Just call me Dad,” he says. “Just once. I’ve been waiting such a long time to hear it.”
I shouldn’t. It’s a line, and I shouldn’t step over it. I texted the word, sure. But I haven’t said it. It feels like admitting something to myself that’s too big to understand.
But I don’t have time to think about it. So I quickly say, “Goodbye, Dad,” and I shut it off. My heart’s hammering, and my hands are shaking, and I can’t believe I just talked to my dad.
Someone knocks on my door. It isn’t Lanny; I can hear the hair dryer just starting up. I turn the phone off and open the closet door to say, “Yeah?” I’m watching the little circle spin around. It takes forever to shut this thing off.
“Connor? Can I come in?”
It’s not Javier. It’s Kezia. When I don’t answer, she tries the doorknob, and I’m glad I locked it, because this phone isn’t turning off . . . and then it suddenly does, it’s dark and silent, and I put it in my pants pocket and go to open up. “Hi,” I tell Kezia. “Sorry.” I go back to the bed and sit down, cross-legged.
She doesn’t come in, just watches me. “I’ve been worried about you.”
Everybody’s worried about me. Except Dad, who thinks I’m okay.
When I don’t answer, Kezia goes on. “You know, it’s okay to be mad with your mom. But you have to know she still loves you. A lot. Okay?”
“Sure,” I say, then shrug. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Just waiting for the bathroom. Lanny takes forever in there.” I hope I sound okay. Normal, at least. On the inside I’m shaking, and I feel like I’m flying apart. I talked to him. I heard his voice. I called him Dad. I don’t know how I feel. Elated, because I got away with it. Terrified. Happy. Worried. All those at the same time.
I can get rid of the phone now, part of me says. I’ve talked to him. So that’s done. I should go smash it now and bury the pieces.
But I can’t. Because this piece of technology in my pocket, it’s like a magic button I can press and feel . . . kind of normal. How can I get rid of it now? But it’s a risk. If they find out, everybody will be mad at me.
I remember his voice shaking as he asked me to call him Dad, like it was the only thing he wanted in the world, and I think, I don’t care if they’re mad.
I need my father. And now, I really think he needs me.
I sleep well for the first time in weeks. I don’t even dream. It’s like hearing Dad’s voice silenced something inside me that was screaming all the time.
And I know that’s probably wrong.
When we get up the next morning, everything seems normal, except me. We have waffles and bacon. I convince them to let me try some coffee with lots of milk and sugar, and I can’t decide, once I have it, whether or not I like it, but I drink it all anyway. Lanny’s milk-only now with her coffee. Javier and Kez just drink it black.
“Why don’t you have anything in it?” I ask them, just to have something to talk about. Javier laughs and exchanges a glance with Kezia.
“Probably the same for both of us,” he says. “When I was in the marines, we were lucky to get coffee. Almost never got it with anything else. You only have so much room in a pack, and when you’re carrying everything you need on your back . . . you skip the luxuries.”
“I got used to black coffee at the station.” Kezia nods. “You grab it quick to go. Creamer’s always out, and mostly the sugar is, too. After a while, you just adjust your taste.”
That sounds grown up. Maybe someday I’ll be drinking it black, too.
After waffles, there’s washing up, and then I take my bath. When I come out, Javier is gone to the range for the day. Kezia’s staying with us. Good thing Norton is a low-crime area, I guess. She gets two calls in the next hour, but neither of them is important enough for her to change plans.
Lanny’s busy making some kind of braided bracelet. She’s been trying all day to pretend like everything’s fine, it’s all cool, and this is the latest thing. She doesn’t even look up. “Stop staring at me.”
“I’m not staring.”
“Yes, you are. God, go do something else already.”
“I hate just sitting around here.”
“Just be patient.”
I laugh, not very happily. “Really? When did you become Saint Patience? Because if you have to wait thirty seconds for the microwave, it’s a national crisis.”
“About the same time you became Sassy McQuipperson,” she says.
“Who’s the bracelet for?”
Her fingers miss the next braid, and she hisses under her breath and unravels the knot. “For me,” she says, which has to be a lie. Lanny’s never worn a braided bracelet in her life. Especially not one in black and pink. Black, maybe. But pink?
“No, it’s not.”
She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then says, “A friend.”
I’m only asking about it because it’s making her uncomfortable. She’s shifting around, shooting me burning Drop it looks. “Look, it’s cool if it’s Dahlia you’re making it for, you know.”
She looks up and gives me a long, weird look. Then she says, “It is.”
“Isn’t she the one you hit in the nose?”
“She’s been my friend for . . . for a long time.”
I shrug. “You still punched her in the nose when you met her. And it wasn’t a long time. Wasn’t even a year ago.” I pretend to read, but I’m watching my sister. She keeps retying that one twist, over and over, and then she growls and shreds the whole bracelet into separate pieces of yarn and gets up to look out the window. “So. You really like her?”
“Maybe,” she says, which means yes. She crosses her arms. “Yes. None of your business.”
“As long as you don’t tell her where we are.” I see her straighten, and I put a bookmark in and close the cover. “Don’t tell me you told her! You’re not supposed to tell anybody, you know that!” I lower my voice so that Kezia can’t tell what we’re talking about.
Lanny just shrugs. Her jaw’s gone stiff, like she’s expecting me to hit it. “That was Mom’s rule, and Mom’s gone. Besides—she won’t tell anybody.”
“She’s going to tell everybody!” I’m angry now. I haven’t called any of my friends. Or gone to look for them. I’ve been doing exactly what Mom said I was supposed to do. Well . . . except for the phone. Except that. “Is that where you went when you were over the fence?”