Inevitable and Only(23)

I like to read, too. Mostly mysteries and fantasy. Even some sci-fi. But I’ve never been into the dusty classics stacked up on all three floors (on the shelves, in the aisles, on the footstools) of Fine Print. Dickens, Dostoyevsky, Dickinson—authors I only read in school when I have to. Sure, I like books. But I looked at Dad’s face as he watched Elizabeth disappear into the shop, and I saw that I didn’t like books enough.

I pushed that thought as far down as I could, to a place where it roiled angrily in my stomach, and took a deep breath. If Dad could pretend nothing was wrong, then I could, too. “So Dad, I, um … I have good news.”

“Oh?” he said, drawing out the word. Dramatic Pause Voice. Just like the laughing downstairs, it was weird to hear Dad doing voices as if nothing had changed.

“Guess,” I said.

He pretended to ponder. “You and Raven have decided to join a convent.”

I raised an eyebrow, not dignifying that with a response.

“Well, Mom told me about the Fall Ball, and I do think we need to discuss some ground rules—”

“Dad.” I was in no mood for Responsible Parent Voice. “They posted Much Ado results.”

He did a double take. “Much adid they?”

I ignored that terrible joke and waited.

“Well???” he said, drawing question marks in the air with his finger.

“Beatrice!” I exploded. I couldn’t help it. I was too excited to keep pretending I didn’t care. “I’m going to play Beatrice!”

Dad did a little caper around the room—I kid you not, my father knows how to caper—before scooping me into an enormous hug. “Acadia Rose Greenfield’s big debut!” he said, too genuinely happy to do any voice except his own. “My little thespian! When do rehearsals start? Do you need help running your lines? When’s opening night?”

At first I went rigid against the hug, but after a moment, I felt that chilly place in my stomach soften. I let Dad prattle on, interrupting one question with another, telling me over and over how proud he was. Not even noticing my silence. Maybe it didn’t matter after all if he had two daughters instead of one. Maybe, eventually, we could go back to the way things had always been.

Except I knew it wasn’t possible, not really. From now on, I had to share him with a sister. A stranger with blond hair and preppy clothes, who walked around on tiptoes so she wouldn’t spill the heavy, heavy load of grief she was carrying. And what if Dad had more secrets, more parts of his life that I’d never known about? How could I ever trust him again?

“Okay, chill out,” I said, pulling away without making eye contact. “I just thought you’d want to know.” I picked up my bag and left the office, even though I could practically feel his hurt radiating toward me across the room.

The future was a stack of unread books. Dad had pulled out the book at the very bottom, and now the whole stack was about to topple over.





CHAPTER NINE


Things were tense at home that whole week. Dad kept bringing Mom bouquets of flowers, and even a giant box of her favorite dark chocolate coconut truffles one night, as if he could buy his way out of trouble. And he was still sleeping on the couch, although he tried to get up early and move the pillows and blankets so Josh and Elizabeth and I wouldn’t figure it out. But every night when I got up to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water, there he was—tucked in neatly and snoring away.

Elizabeth took forever in the bathroom in the mornings, and her showers used up all the hot water. I started showering at night just so I wouldn’t have to get up ridiculously early to sneak in a shower before her. I noticed that Mom did, too, although she didn’t say anything about it. Or at least not to us.

Meals began with grace, then limped along without it. (Ha—Dad would’ve enjoyed that line, but I wasn’t in the mood to tell him jokes.) Mom avoided talking to Dad, and tried overly hard to be nice to Elizabeth. Josh was silent. I tried to make conversation, but Dad kept turning everything I said into a question for Elizabeth, who gave one-or two-word answers.

On Thursday night, Dad asked about her progress with the stack of books she’d borrowed from Fine Print, and Elizabeth finally smiled. They started discussing a book of Edgar Allan Poe stories. I squirmed on the stupid folding chair I kept getting stuck with—I didn’t want to complain about it and sound whiny, but it did make my butt go numb.

“Did you know that Poe’s grave is here in Baltimore?” Dad asked.

Elizabeth’s (perfectly sculpted) eyebrows shot up. “No way!” (Side note: Have I mentioned the amount of plucking I have to do every week in order to see out from under the caterpillars on my forehead?)

“We’ll plan a visit,” said Dad. “How about this weekend?”

Dad used to take Josh and me to Poe’s grave on Halloween every year. Now we’d have to share that tradition with Elizabeth, too. I pushed my food around on my plate. Poe’s grave was stupid, anyhow. I was getting too old for that nonsense.

“Can I be excused?” I asked. Mom nodded, and I went upstairs. First I packed my overnight bag. Then I called Raven. The Woodbury sisterhood had no rules about sleepovers on school nights.

“It’s not fair,” I complained from the back seat on the ride to Raven’s house. She and Ruby had driven over to pick me up, and I was out the door before Mom could protest—or maybe Mom just didn’t want to start a fight in front of Elizabeth. “How are you so good at driving already? You’ve only had your permit a month longer than I have.”