The Truth About Keeping Secrets(48)

This, of all things, seemed to have gotten through to her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

I threw my hands up, exasperated. ‘Because I thought you would do this!’

‘We’re going to figure out something to do about whoever this is. I promise. OK? But –’ and then her eyes glazed over – ‘but no more of this, Sydney. OK? No more about Daddy. I hate to see you like –’

And then I left, stomped up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door behind me.

Later I sat in bed thinking of a conversation I’d had with him a couple of years before. We were watching Twilight Zone and I was thinking about how crap it would be to know some insane truth but have nobody who will believe you, and I said, ‘Promise me if some crazy shit happens to me one day – like I get abducted by aliens or kidnapped by ghosts or something – and I tell you about it, then you gotta believe me.’

He propped his feet up on the fold-out footrest of his usual chair in the living room (nobody has sat in that chair since September). ‘I don’t think ghosts are normally the sort to kidnap people.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Mm. Can’t promise that. Might be a psychotic break.’

‘But I feel like I’d be able to tell the difference.’

‘You would feel that way, yes.’

‘OK. Well. If I tell you a Kanamit is after me and you don’t do anything about it, you’re gonna feel real bad when they eat me.’

‘I think I would be inclined to believe you. Mainly because you’re my daughter and I trust you. Though the Kanamits would be innocent until proved guilty.’

I tossed a cushion at his head.

The only person who would believe me about my dad’s death was dead Dad.

Olivia came over in the morning as per my pleading request, hair scrunched into a bun and forehead straining against her severely raised eyebrows. ‘How was Heath’s?’ she said, finally, after silently pushing past me at the door and collapsing on our living-room couch.

‘Hey. I’m sorry. OK? I really am. I totally lost track of time.’

‘It’s New Year’s. How do you lose track of time on New Year’s? The whole holiday is about the time.’

‘We – I was drinking.’

Olivia’s mouth hung agape.

‘I’m – we’re seventeen, OK? Relax. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry. I left right after I realized. I was gonna come see you, but you wouldn’t answer.’

She sighed. ‘OK. I accept your apology.’

‘But something happened last night. With the message person.’

Olivia rolled her eyes. ‘You’re unbelievable.’

‘What?’

‘You’re only apologizing because you want me to play detective with you.’

‘No. I’m not. I would have apologized anyway. This is serious. Nobody is taking this seriously. Why isn’t anyone taking this seriously? They’re practically, I don’t know, stalking me. They came into the house, Liv. They smashed a picture of Dad and me.’

Olivia shifted. Crossed her arms. ‘I still think it’s Bea.’

‘Dude, I talked to Bea.’

‘Yeah, all right, dude. Cool, dude. Since when do you say dude?’

‘It doesn’t matter. But none of this is her. She had no idea about any of it.’

She scoffed. ‘OK, so you’re not even a good detective. You seriously believe her?’

‘Yeah, I do. Liv, really, I honestly think this has something to do with my dad.’

She considered this for a moment. ‘So what am I supposed to do about it? Do some, I don’t know, some hacking? Start a Pleasant Hills patrol?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe firstly be – emotional support? Or something?’

‘I would have loved some emotional support yesterday.’

‘You could have just come with me.’

‘And you could have just stayed.’

I was finished. ‘OK. You know what, I – you can go. You can leave.’

‘Thanks for your permission.’

‘That wasn’t – that’s not what I was saying.’

So this was how it ended.

I watched her leave, her dark shock of hair waving behind her. Things would never, ever be the same between us, and the sooner we realized – she realized – the better.

Class didn’t start back up again until Wednesday, and I would have preferred to spend my remaining freedom inside, sulking, thinking, but I had to go back to the support group on Monday.

I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. Actually, I was grumpy as hell about it. Didn’t want to be there. I felt like I had a whole host of problems that, even if I was the only bastard there, we wouldn’t have been able to solve. I was upset about the fight I’d had with Olivia; I was, as always, in a perpetual state of discomfort about my dependency on June; I was also, apparently, the target of someone who was human trash at best and a literal murderer at most.

Where would I even start?

Leo gave me a half-hearted smile when I arrived, which I returned. This boy was no longer a threat, I decided, and I liked that I knew more about him now than he knew about me.

That session, Gerry had us talk about emotions. ‘I know, I know,’ she said, ‘emotions in therapy? Groundbreaking.’