Twelve Steps to Normal(42)

Peach continues to dish out kindness like she dishes out her from-scratch casseroles. She also continues to make my lunch, wash everyone’s laundry, and keep the kitchen tidy. While I appreciate all she does, I can’t help but wish she’d focus more on getting her own life back on track and not putting it off by staying here. Every day that they stay here is a risk. Even though I haven’t had another phone call from Margaret, there’s still a paranoid part of me that thinks she’ll somehow find out.

Then there’s the fact that Peach continues to spend so much time with my dad. It sends me into a fit of blind anger. Sometimes they go out front and sit on the porch swing and, I don’t know, talk for like… hours. I can hear them laughing from my room. He looks happier than he has in years.

Which makes it hard for me to manipulate everyone into leaving.

The only upside to the week is when Peach goes to buy groceries. My dad joins me on the couch and we watch the latest episode of Crime Boss. He even makes us a plate of what he called his homemade nachos, which are just chips sprinkled with shredded cheese that he pops in the microwave for a minute. It’s nothing fancy, but it doesn’t need to be. We take turns trying to guess the murderer and for the first time in a while, it feels like it’s only the two of us.

Aunt June calls me later that evening when I’m in my room.

“Hey, sweets,” she says when I answer. “I just wanted to check in. How are you?”

I consider telling her about the recoverees living here. I know my dad hasn’t said anything to June because she would have already brought it up. It seems like something he would have mentioned to her, but I don’t know. Maybe he thinks she’ll get the wrong idea.

“Good,” I tell her. “I miss you. And those mini pretzel bagels you used to get from that coffee shop.”

She laughs. “Lord knows I’ve eaten enough of those for five lifetimes.” She clears her throat, and her voice suddenly grows serious. “Listen, doll, I was wondering how your dad is doing? Honestly?”

I grip the phone tighter. I could tell her the truth. She could maybe figure out a way to get these people out of here so that things can go back to normal.

But what if it doesn’t happen, and I’m sent back to Portland?

“He’s good,” I say. “Honest.”

I hear her exhale. “Well, if you need anything—”

“I know. Thank you.”

And just like that, I’m keeping my father’s secrets all over again.





On Thursday, I’m stressing over the fact that Algebra II is still kicking my ass. I haven’t been called up for any more Radical Races, but I’m getting C’s and D’s on most of my homework assignments. Maybe I’ll find Alex’s sister in the library next week, even though going in for tutoring makes me feel more insecure than I already am.

Alex received my package of Starburst, though. Yesterday he made a production of stealthily eating them in class, grinning at me like he knew I was the mysterious candy bearer. When I caught his eye and grinned back, he dropped a few in the palm of my hand, along with an empty wrapper.

I won’t say it’s the best, but it’s close.

I use another wrapper to write back.

You have questionable taste.

After he reads it, he gives me a playful glare, tossing a mango square at my head.

“Mr. Ramos!” Mrs. Donaldson scolds. “If you know this material well enough to become distracted, then perhaps you can lead the class in an example?”

I give Alex a look of sympathy. The last thing we both need is another detention from this class. But before Alex slides out of his seat, he glances over at me.

Worth it, he mouths.





I’m about to walk into art history when Lin pulls me aside.

“Raegan’s mad at us,” she says.

My good mood instantly deflates. I really don’t need another friend mad at me right now.

“What? Why?”

Lin rolls her eyes. “Because we’re going to Breck’s party this weekend and she’s not.”

I throw my hands up. “So why doesn’t she just come?”

“Because she’s President of Leadership Council and doesn’t want to”—Lin uses air quotes—“‘tarnish her reputation.’”

I sigh. At least it’s not my fault. I’m actually looking forward to his party. For one, it’ll give me the opportunity to drop the sympathy stigma in front of most of our classmates and show them that my life is totally normal. It’ll also give me the opportunity to hang out with my friends as a group and work on the goals of my twelve steps. But it makes it hard to focus on being a better friend to Raegan when she’s upset that we’re going in the first place.

When school lets out later that day, I go to my locker and grab the change of clothes I packed. There’s no way I’m picking up trash in jeans, especially in this insufferable heat. Thankfully, Raegan scheduled our practice on the field at five thirty—going over and over our routine in the afternoon sun is never something I look forward to the day before a game.

Alex walks up just as I’m closing my locker. He smiles at me and like a reflex, I find myself smiling back.

“Are you still going to the Earth Club cleanup?” I ask.