The Impossible Knife of Memory(61)

(Honestly? I was relieved. The secrets we’d shared at his house belonged in the dark. Seeing him in the light of day or the light of the cafeteria, made me feel like my skin had become transparent and the whole school could see inside me.) Wednesday morning, he picked me up late, yawning and bleary-eyed. He said he hadn’t gotten any sleep, but when I asked why, he shrugged and turned on the radio. I leaned against the seat belt strap and tried to doze.

Having Trish around was making Dad worse. He’d woken up screaming around two thirty that morning. It was the third time in four nights that he’d woken up like that, hollering that the truck was on fire or trying to call in air support to take out a hornet’s nest of insurgents. After he settled down, he and Trish had spent the rest of the night talking in the living room. I tried to hear what they were saying, but the ticking of that damn clock made it impossible.

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew we were at school.

Topher took one look at the two of us, bleary-eyed and yawning, and bought us both huge cups of coffee to go with our deliciously greasy breakfast burritos. He waggled his eyebrows. “What were you guys doing last night?”

“Nothing fun,” I said.

“We had a family Skype meeting.” Finn blew on the coffee. “Chelsea and Dad in Boston, me and mom here.”

“Really?” It was the first I’d heard of it. “Sounds nice.”

Finn shook his head. “It wasn’t. Chelsea wants to go to rehab, but there isn’t any money. Mom is thinking about selling her jewelry and her car.”

“Dude,” Topher said.

Gracie scratched at a piece of gum that had hardened on the table. She was short on sleep, too, from eavesdropping on her parents’ custody arguments. Her father was demanding Sundays through Wednesdays. Her mother was demanding that he not be allowed to introduce his girlfriend to Gracie and Garrett.

“What happens then?” I sipped the coffee and burned my mouth. “Will she take your car?”

“She said she’ll take the bus to work.”

“What about grocery shopping and stuff?”

“My car,” Finn admitted.

Grace looked up. “Did you trying saying no to her?”

“What about the insurance bullshit?” Topher asked. “What did she decide about that?”

“Something’s wrong with your insurance?” I asked, confused why Topher knew more than I did.

“Last week she said I have pay for it. Gas, too. Yesterday, Coach hired me to lifeguard during swim practice. I start this afternoon.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Sorry.” He looked into the coffee cup. “I forgot.”

“Sounds stupid if you ask me.” Gracie stole a sip of my coffee. “Your mom’s enabling your sister and screwing you over.”

Finn shrugged and bit into his burrito.

“Not to mention the obvious holes in her plan,” Gracie continued. “What if she gets fired? What if her boss doesn’t want employees who ride the bus, ’cause they’re always late?”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Finn said.

“You should,” Gracie said. “You’re enabling your mom the way that she enables your sister.”

“Your family calls it enabling, we call it taking care of each other.” Finn looked at Topher. “Changing the subject now. Did you hear about the shooting at the middle school in Nebraska?”

“The news is too depressing,” Topher said. “You should watch more cartoons.”

“Why do we have to change the subject?” Gracie asked. “We all have crazy parents, except for Topher.”

“They are pathetically well-adjusted.” Topher shook his head. “It’s so embarrassing.”

“Shut up, goof.” Gracie punched his shoulder lightly. “Shouldn’t we talk about this stuff and help each other?”

“She has a point, Finn-head,” I said.

“No, she doesn’t.” Finn turned to face me. “She’s being nosy and pushy. So are you. I seriously do not want to talk about this anymore.”

“Nosy?” I asked.

“So!” Topher said loudly. “Sports! Who wants to talk about sports?”

I should have stopped there, but I couldn’t. I was tired, frustrated, possibly a tiny bit in love and horrified by the thought. Plus, I was tired. (Did I mention that already?) My irritation was growing fast, the way a cartoon snowball gets bigger and bigger as it rolls down a mountain.

“The first thing you did when we sat down was to tell us about your family’s Skype visit, Chelsea wanting rehab, your mom selling her car and jewelry,” I said. “You told us that without anyone sticking their nose in your business.”

He didn’t say anything.

“And then you casually mention that you got a job that starts today, not that my life could possibly be impacted by that at all.”

“I already apologized for that.”

The snowball was the size of a dump truck.

“Apologies mean nothing if you don’t mean it.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” he asked.

“Not yelling at her would be a good start,” Gracie said.

Finn pointed at her. “Nosy and pushy, see?”