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month’s worth of gas money. It meant a month of not having to ask Dad for anything. How could I not take it?
    On the way home, I called James.
    “Hello, Miss Persephone. How we doin’ this evening?”
    “Pretty good. Ken’s asleep.”
    “Good. I’m sure he needs the rest. Are you goin’ over there again soon?”
    “We didn’t really talk about it. I mean, like I said, he was asleep when I left. I could probably go back over on Saturday. Sometime in the afternoon?”
    “I’m sure he would like that. Just show up whenever. I don’t think his social calendar is too booked.”
    “Alright. I guess I’ll call you Saturday then.”
    “Sounds great, Persephone. You have a good night, and God bless.” God bless me. Now wouldn’t that be a nice change of pace?

    With Dad not due home for a few more days, my evening was quiet. Mom was out by ten, and I wrapped up my homework even earlier. I put my phone on silent because Maggie wouldn’t stop texting, sat down at my piano, and played until my fingers refused to move. I realized as I got into bed that every piece I played was almost happy, and I hadn’t thought about cutting once. Sleep was almost immediate and peaceful.

6.
    “So where did you disappear to yesterday?” Maggie leaned against her car, fiddling with her keys. We were a block from school, enjoying one last cigarette together before heading home.
    “Oh, just some errands.” There was no good reason for not telling Maggie the truth except I hadn’t lied to her (or anyone else for that matter) in almost twelve hours.
    “So what are you doing tonight? Your dad in town?”
    “Yeah, trip got cut short. Mom texted me earlier. Guess he got home sometime this afternoon. Want to do something?” It was comforting that Maggie didn’t need an explanation. She accepted that I avoided the house whenever he was there.
    “Sure. Mom’s going out with the newest one tonight, so we should have the house to ourselves. You can spend the night if you want.” Maggie’s mom was single and seemed hell-bent on dating every male over the age of twenty-five in the county.
    “Where’d she get this one?”
    “Dublin’s Pass, two nights ago. Seriously, how many love stories have you heard begin with ‘we met in a bar’? It’s pathetic.”
    “I’m sorry, man. Do you ever wonder why they even had us? Really. It’s obvious they don’t like being parents. I mean when was the last time either one of us saw our mothers sober?”
    Maggie and I spent many an hour bitching about our mothers’ shared pastime. While my mother sequestered herself in a bedroom with any alcohol she could get her hands on, Maggie’s mom enjoyed being on display when she was intoxicated. .
    A few times I had gotten close to telling Maggie the whole story—why I didn’t want to ever be at home, why I hated my father so much. But what if she told her mom? Or heaven forbid, someone with real authority? No one would believe me. My father would deny it. My mother would finally go over the edge she had been teetering on for years. Besides, it was one thing when a little girl was messed with, but a teenager? Would Maggie look at me different? God, the possibilities made me feel light-headed.
    It was better to keep lying. Maybe, if I lied enough, I would start to believe it. Like the scars I hid beneath long sleeves, I tucked these truths away. If no one could see them, maybe I could convince myself they didn’t really exist.
    The silence stretched out. Finally, Maggie spoke.
    “You hungry?” Food—Maggie’s cure for everything. She was one of those horrible, annoying people that could eat her weight in Oreos then have the nerve to complain she couldn’t seem to gain weight. If I didn’t love her so much, I would have hated her with every ounce of my soul.
    “Yeah, sure. Sushi?”
    We took separate cars to our favorite sushi bar, giving me way too much time in my own head. Time to think about the nights Maggie’s house wasn’t an option.