The Impossible Knife of Memory(60)

Spock jumped up and shook himself, raising a cloud of fur and dander that hung in the sunlight.

“All right then.” Dad slapped his knees and stood up, as if everything was decided and I wasn’t on the verge of running in the garage to get the splitting maul.

“Where are you going?” Trish asked him.

“The choke on the lawn mower sticks,” he said. “I’m going to start it for her.”

“Don’t bother,” I said. “I’m going to Gracie’s.”





_*_ 63 _*_

“Tell me this is a nightmare.” I sat heavily on the swing, making the chains jingle. “Maybe that bacon we ate last night was spoiled. Maybe food poisoning is screwing up my brain.”

Grace moaned. “Please don’t talk about food.” “It’s like Halloween got stuck or something,” I said. “I wake up and there’s a witch in the living room and my dad is wearing a mask that almost looks like him, but not totally. Everything is weird.”

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised.” Gracie carefully sat at the bottom of the slide. Her little brother was playing with his friends over on the new climbing equipment. We’d headed for the old stuff to get away from the noise they were making. “Trish and your dad were together for a long time, right?”

I spun the swing in a circle, twisting the chains around each other. “That’s not the point.”

Gracie’s little brother, still wearing his Iron Man costume, came running over. “Kegan’s mom brought oranges. She said I can have one if you say yes.”

“Yes,” Gracie said. “But eat them over there, okay?”

“Can I have a bologna sandwich, too?” he asked loudly.

“Shh!” Gracie hissed. “My head hurts, remember?”

Garrett leaned close to her face and whispered loudly, “Can I have a bologna sandwich, too? Kegan’s mommy makes them with mayonnaise and ketchup.”

Gracie blew out a slow breath. “Eat what you want, buddy. Just don’t tell me about it.”

I waited until he was out of earshot. “You should puke and get it over with.”

“I hate puking.” She licked her lips. “What’s the point about Trish?”

I spun in one more circle. “The point is that she’s a terrible person.”

“Fix her up with my dad,” Gracie said as she leaned back on the slide. “That would solve both of our family’s problems.” She groaned. “Can a person die of a hangover?”

“If that was true, Trish would be dead by now.” I unspun quickly, the ground whirling beneath my feet. “Dad, too, I guess.”

“I can’t believe I did this to myself,” Gracie said.

“The worst part is that she’s in our house.” I dug my toes into the dirt and spun in the other direction. “Why can’t he see what she’s trying to do?”

“Stop stressing. You can’t change anything.” Gracie winced as the little girls chasing each other around the sandbox shrieked. “Parents get to do whatever they want. Will you stop talking and let me die now?”

“I didn’t realize what a whiner you are. Be grateful you didn’t get arrested.”

“I wasn’t going to drink anything.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “What was I thinking?”

“You weren’t thinking, dumbass, you were drinking. They’re opposites. Now focus: How do I get rid of her?”

“You don’t.” Gracie sat up, grimacing. “The world is crazy. You need a license to drive a car and go fishing. You don’t need a license to start a family. Two people have sex and bam! Perfectly innocent kid is born whose life will be screwed up by her parents forever.” She stood up carefully. “And you can’t do a damn thing about it.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Then you’re the dumbass.” She sat on the swing next to me. “Maybe this is a sign.”

“Of what?”

“A sign that you need to look ahead. At college and stuff. You gonna apply to Swevenbury?”

“Funny,” I said.

“Too close? What about California, lots of schools there. Get as far away as you can.”

“What about our commune?” I spun in another circle, bringing the twisted chains so far down that I had to lean forward so my hair wouldn’t get caught in it.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Last night you said the four of us—you, me, Topher, and Finn—should raise goats on our commune.”

“Liar,” she said. “I don’t even like goats.”

“Sissie!” Garrett ran over to the swing set and shoved half of his bologna and mayonnaise and ketchup sandwich in Gracie’s face. “Want some?

“Oh, God,” Gracie said, lurching for the trash can.

“Give it to me, buddy,” I said. “Sissie doesn’t feel so good.”





_*_ 64 _*_

Finn was less Finn-like in the days after Halloween, distracted and quiet. His junkie sister was playing head games with his parents, but he didn’t want to talk about it. His phone was usually turned off (or maybe he was screening my calls), but he showed up faithfully to drive me to school every morning and home in the afternoon. We didn’t joke as much in the library or in the halls. Sometimes we barely talked, but his arm was always around my shoulders and my hand liked to slip into the back pocket of his jeans.