Without Merit

Anything to get her away for a minute. “Sure.”

She walks toward the back of the bookstore, just as Sagan ends his call and walks inside. He glances around the bookstore before spotting me on the couch. I stand up when he makes his way over. “Everything okay?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

I nod. “Was it my Dad? He checking up on me?”

Sagan doesn’t answer me. Instead, he just slides his phone in his pocket and says, “You want to go home?”

Home.

I laugh halfheartedly. I’m not even sure home is a word that can be used to describe where I live. It’s just a house filled with people who are counting down the days until they don’t have to live with each other anymore.

I try to say, “Okay,” but I have to choke it out because it’s so quiet and there are tears mixed in with the word. Sagan doesn’t even ask me why I’m suddenly emotional. He just wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him.

I press my face against his chest and hug him back because it feels good and as strong as I’m pretending to be today, I’m still sad. I’m full of regret for writing that letter last night and sad that it caused so much drama and even sadder that it’s all the truth. I don’t want to be mad at Utah. I don’t want to be annoyed with Honor. I don’t want my father to be cheating on Victoria—even if it is with my mother. And I don’t want Honor to be obsessing over unhealthy relationships anymore. I want us all to be normal. It can’t be that hard.

“Why can’t we be a normal family?” My voice is muffled against Sagan’s chest.

“I don’t think such a thing exists, Merit,” he says, pulling back to look down at me. “Let’s go. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re exhausted.”

I nod and he wraps an arm around me. We turn to head toward the door, but we both stop suddenly because the lady from the bookstore is standing in our way, uncomfortably close, holding up a soda. “Don’t forget your Diet Pepsi,” she says.

Sagan takes a step back and hesitantly reaches out for the can of soda. “Um. Thanks?”

The woman nods and then steps aside to let us pass. Right before we walk out, she says, “Don’t even think about stealing one of my gnomes! Teenagers are always stealing the gnomes!”

I glance back at her and give her a reassuring wave. When we get outside, Sagan laughs. “That was odd.”

I don’t disagree.

But I like odd, so I’ll probably come back.





Chapter Twelve

Utah: Are you home?

Utah: Mer, I really want to talk to you.


I stare at his texts with disdain. He hasn’t called me Mer since we were kids. I lock my phone and slide it back into my pocket. I pick up my fork and take another bite of enchiladas.

Sagan and I got back right before everyone started to return from school and work. I stayed in my room until dinner was ready. When I came out, no one spoke to me other than my father and Sagan. My father asked how I was feeling. I said fine. Sagan asked me what I wanted to drink. I said fine. I didn’t even catch it until I saw him smile and hand me a glass of soda.

Now we’ve been sitting in complete silence and we’re halfway through dinner. The tension is so thick, I’m not sure I’d be able to speak through it even if I tried. Honor is the first to attempt it. She receives a text shortly after the two texts from Utah that went ignored by me.

“Utah wants to talk to you, Dad,” she says, looking down at her phone. “Can he come by tonight?”

My father is patient with his answer. He finishes the bite he just took. He swallows. He takes a sip of his drink and places the glass back down on the table. Then he says, “Not tonight.”

Honor glares at him. “Dad.”

“I said not tonight. I’ll reach out to him when I’m ready to discuss it with him.”

Honor laughs halfheartedly. “You? Discuss something important? He’ll be waiting his whole life for that.”

“Honor.” Victoria says Honor’s name like it’s a warning.

Honor doesn’t like that. She looks like she’s about to explode when my father senses it, too. He cuts her off before she has a chance to respond.

“Enough, Honor.”

Honor stands up with so much force, her chair falls over behind her. She leaves her plate on the table and marches off to her room. Victoria sighs and pushes back from the table with less anger than she usually does when she gets fed up. “I’m not feeling well,” she says. She lays her napkin next to her plate and walks to her room. My father follows her.

I have no idea what has transpired between the two of them since I spilled everything in the letter. But Victoria doesn’t seem very happy.

I look over at Moby just as he covers his mouth with his hand and leans in to me. “Can I go watch TV? I don’t like my food.”

I smile. “Sure, buddy.” He slides off his chair and runs into the living room. It’s just me, Luck and Sagan at the table now.

“I’m not sure this family has finished an entire meal since I got here,” Luck says.

I don’t laugh. It’s kind of sad that we can’t even get along long enough to finish a plate of food. Luck starts poking at the food on his plate. He eventually lays down his fork with a heavy sigh and looks up at me.

“Have you spoken to Utah at all?” Luck asks. “What if he wants to apologize?”

“He’s had several years to apologize. The only reason he’s willing to do it now is because it’s out in the open. Doesn’t feel very genuine at this point.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Luck takes a few more bites of food. I just scoot the food around on my plate. I don’t have an appetite anymore, now that everyone seems to be upset with me over something Utah did. I know it was a long time ago and I know they hate finding out something terrible about Utah. But where is my sympathy? Am I that unlikable that they have absolutely no compassion for how much I was affected by that incident?

Sagan has started cleaning off the table and Luck finally walks to his bedroom.

“You finished?” Sagan asks. I nod, and he walks my plate to the sink and then returns to the table.

I slide my finger down the condensation on my glass. “Do you think I’m overreacting?”

He stares at me a moment and then finally gives me a small shake of his head. “Your anger is valid, Merit.”

I want his words to make me feel better, but they don’t. I don’t want to be angry at Utah. I don’t want everyone else to be angry at me. I just wish we could be content. “I hate this family sometimes,” I whisper. “So much.”

Sagan pulls his sketch pad in front of him. “Not an unprecedented feeling for a teenager.” He slides the tip of his pencil down his page and I watch him sketch. It’s relaxing. The sound the pencil makes against the paper. The way his whole arm moves with his hand. The intense concentration on his face.

“Will you draw me?”

Sagan lifts his eyes to mine and nods. “Sure.”