Seven Ways We Lie(31)

“Oh?” I repeat.

“Nothing. Just, oh.” He seems to have lost the ability to blink, staring down at Juniper’s car. “The blonde, I assume?”

“Nah, my sister’s the brunette. The blonde is Juniper Kipling. She’s a friend. Why?”

“No reason,” he says too quickly.

I lean against the wall. “What, you have a crush on one of them or something?”

“I don’t do those.”

“Do what? Crushes?”

“Yes, those,” he says. “And no. I don’t.”

“What are you, one of those love-is-a-social-construct people?”

“I don’t know about that. I just don’t get crushes.” He gives me a flash of his laser eyes again. “What, do you think it’s a construct?”

“Spare me,” I say. “Don’t change the subject. What’s your deal with Juni and my sister?”

His lips form a thin line. “No deal. Nothing.” He shoves his hands into his jacket, turning away. “I have to go. Bye.” He walks out fast, head down, staring deliberately at the ground.

As he shuts the door, I lean against a desk, drained by the interaction. I wish I were one of those androids from Electric Forces VI. I could stick a plug into myself to recharge.

I slouch out of the room, steeling myself for a weird drive home.


THE SIGHT OF OLIVIA AT THE STOVE THAT EVENING gives me a strange, sinking feeling. Most days, I move to my room the second she walks into the kitchen. Today, though, something keeps me at the table as I play Mass Effect. I glance at her every so often. She stands with one hip shifted out, her hair tied back in a messy stream. She hums a tune that sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it.

Dad opens the door at a little past seven, his glasses spattered with beads of water. His usual five-o’clock shadow has grown out to a layer of gray-black stubble, making the gaunt peaks and valleys of his face seem rockier than usual. Dad’s all bones, a six-foot-five skeleton man with kind eyes.

“Hi,” he says, shutting the door. He shrugs off his raincoat, revealing the plastic name tag on his button-down, emblazoned with the Golden Arches.

I lift a hand, and Olivia says, “Hey, how was work?”

Dad doesn’t seem to hear. As he meanders toward the stairs, all he says is, “Horrible weather.” His voice barely makes it to my ears, quiet and reedy.

“Yeah, it’s gross out,” Olivia says. “Dinner’s going to be ready in about ten, okay?”

“Thanks.” He vanishes up to the second floor, leaving silence except for the simmering hiss of hot water. As I look after him, Valentine Simmons’s miserable Four Hundred and Ten Days of Eating Alone statistic scratches at the back of my mind.

“You want me to set the table?” I ask, pausing Mass Effect.

Olivia turns, her eyebrows raised. “Yeah, that—that’d be awesome,” she says. “You eating with us, Kat?”

I nod. “Smells nice.”

A big smile lifts her cheeks. Two words, and she lights up like a lantern—I forgot how transparent Olivia can be. “Great!” she says. “Dad’ll be really happy.”

If he is, though, I can’t tell. When the three of us sit down, he eats slack-faced and quiet, despite Olivia’s attempts to draw conversation out of him.

I sneak glances at my sister and my dad throughout dinner. Their presence crushes me in. How do I talk to them? They feel so far away, like distant island countries. God knows what’s going on inside Dad’s head, and I hardly know anything about Olivia anymore. She, Juniper, and Claire are as inseparable as always, and she goes out every weekend. That’s all I know, besides the music she listens to in her room.

“What’s new, Kat?” Olivia says, meeting my eyes.

I look down at my lap and scramble for words. “Nothing much. Um . . . Dr. Norman made fun of me in chemistry today.”

“Why?”

“?’Cause he’s a dick.”

“Language,” Dad mumbles. I’ve never heard a more half-assed chastisement.

“No, he is, though,” Olivia says. “All last year, he used to make fun of my height. And I was, like, yeah, I know I’m tall—thanks for the constant reminders.” She takes a swig of orange juice. “What’d he say to you?”

“I was asleep. So he, you know. Made an example.”

“Oh,” Olivia says. I wait for some preachy Maybe stay awake next time remark, but she just shrugs and says, “Yeah, dude’s voice could put a dolphin to sleep. Amazing.”

“What, is that impressive?”

“Dolphins—fun fact—actually don’t sleep,” Olivia says through a mouthful of noodles. “They only rest part of their brains at a time, so they’re always sorta conscious. Also, they’re evil. They, like, kidnap people and drag them off to their dolphin lairs.”

I laugh before I can help it. Olivia looks at me with this mixture of astonishment and delight, as if I’ve handed her a winning lottery ticket. Dad glances between the two of us, looking confused, which is fair—I’m a little confused, too. I forgot Olivia made jokes and offered people sympathy. I forgot she did anything but tell me to deal with my responsibilities.

When we finish dinner, Dad stands. “I’m exhausted, girls. Might call it an early night.”