Gone, Gone, Gone(13)

“The lady who found her was excited to get rid of her, I think,” Mom says. “God, she’s a loud one. I think your dad would have preferred she stayed lost.”

I cover Kremlin’s ears.

Usually, when I take one of the pets out somewhere by himself—like to the vet, or maybe if he’s been sad, out on a special walk—we’re greeted by a whole host of jealous, curious animals as soon as we come back through the front door. It’s weird when only Jupiter and the two cats run up to sniff Kremlin’s legs. It makes it very hard to be happy, when I think that tonight I will be walking so many fewer dogs than I am supposed to.

Then Todd comes down from upstairs and gives me this huge hug. I say, “Hey,” because this is a little weird.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he says.

It’s like no one would have told him if I’d died at school or something. I say, “What?”

“You didn’t hear about the shootings?”

“Oh, right, I mean, I heard about them, but I wasn’t thinking about them or something.” I want to tell him that the chances are way better that I’d died in a car wreck with Mom on the way home, but I don’t mind when Todd likes me, even though I sometimes feel like I’m just his good deed for the day.

Dad finally comes home with a stack of papers, rubbing the headache between his eyes. Parents are calling him like crazy, he says, all of them demanding that he promise their kids will be safe, like that’s something Dad can tell them.

We eat a late dinner, and I should do my homework but I don’t, and I should sleep but I don’t, and while we’re sitting around chewing on our cold, gummy pizza, a man is killed crossing the street in Washington, D.C. Wha-pam, long-range bullet, dead body.

I email the boy I shouldn’t instead of the boy I should. Because there is nothing from Cody in my inbox. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Lio—

I don’t know why you have to be a jackass all the time. It didn’t used to be like this.

Craig

_________________________

Craig—

We didn’t used to know each other. I’m a jackass sometimes. It’s not really all the time. You’ll deal.

Lio

_________________________

Lio—

I wish you would call me.

I wish you talked.

You don’t think anyone’s going to shoot an animal, right?

Craiger



God, the least Lio could do is answer this one, let me know that the animals are safe, even though why do I trust him to know when I don’t trust my dad to know about his students? The animals aren’t Lio’s job. They have nothing to do with Lio.





LIO

I’M ABOUT TO ANSWER CRAIG’S EMAIL WHEN DAD comes in. He wants to chat. That’s sort of his thing. Our thing. Though my part is mostly listening.

I’m his only son. It’s stupid to say we have a special bond just because of that, but we do, I think. I think I’m a relief for him, like an oasis among all the girls. We sit and watch football together. I haven’t told him I’m gay, but he’s probably figured it out. If he hasn’t, I don’t think it’s going to be a big deal to him, as long as I assure him we can still watch football.

In a way, my role for him has changed. Now most of the girls are gone, since Mom left and the big girls are at college. The single-parent situation, even with only three kids here, is hard for Dad. These things mean that I feel now like less of a respite for Dad and more like just another person bearing down on him. So I have to use that bond to our advantage.

Music comes pouring in as soon as Dad opens the door, because my little sister, Michelle, is watching MTV in the living room. My dad shuts the door and the noise blurs out. I don’t know why he doesn’t tell her to turn it down or watch TV that has people wearing clothes.

“Hey, Lio.”

I smile at him.

“How’s school?” he asks me. He peeks under my hat and laughs a little. “Look at your hair.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me. You’re the one who has to walk around like that.”

“School’s fine.”

“Good to hear.” He aims his gaze toward the living room. “I think Michelle’s having a rough time making friends.”

That doesn’t make much sense. Michelle is bubbly. She and Jasper both—though Jasper had issues at her last school because of some boy dating her and this other girl at once. So she was excited to move. Michelle was apathetic, I think.

“She misses New York, I think,” Dad says. My dad has the collar of his shirt unbuttoned and his tie loose around his neck. He’s gained too much weight. His stomach’s hiding his belt buckle, and I can see his shoulders move when he breathes, just from climbing the two flights of stairs to our apartment. “But at least Jasper’s happy, and God knows that’s a victory worth celebrating. Did you go jogging today?”

I nod. Jogging and singing are my two favorite things, but singing doesn’t make a good recreational activity unless you like being annoying. Which I do not.

“How far?” he asks me.

“Five miles,” I say.

“And how fast?”

I like when Dad leads me. I hate when anyone else does. “Thirty-nine minutes.”