you’d like to live there, wouldn’t you?”
“It does sound nice,” I answered carefully, looking from Mom to Dad. “But I’d hate to change schools right now.” It was true. I had another two months left of my sophomore year at Homeland. And there was the prom and the yearbook.
Of course, I was also thinking a move might solve a lot of problems. Micah would be zero temptation there. Maybe the bad dreams would go away. Maybe we would be safer, but I wasn’t sure I could trust Dad anymore.
“You’ll make great friends there, the right ones,” Dad said as if it were already settled. He turned back to Mom. “There’s a house coming on the market today. The guy’s getting transferred to L.A. You’ll both love it.”
“Don’t those places have waiting lists?” I asked. One of my friends had moved to a compound last year. Her folks had put their names on the list when she first started school.
“You didn’t, did you?” Mom asked, glaring at Dad. “You put us on the damn list without asking me. Knowing how I felt. When were you planning on telling me?”
“When we got to the top of the list.” Dad grinned. “Now.”
Mom didn’t say anything.
“So we’re moving?” I asked.
“Yes, Princess, on the first,” he said. That was less than a month away.
Dad described the house. Lots of space. A pool in the backyard. A panic room in the basement. My own bathroom. And maybe next year I could even have my own car, he said, only to be driven within the compound. The insurance was so much cheaper inside the gates, he explained.
He did make it sound pretty glossy. He tried to placate Mom with the promise of a double commission. She was furious, though. And something else. That measuring, all-there look in her eyes reminded me of something I hadn’t seen in a long time. It reminded me of mornings years ago when she’d get ready for court by practicing her remarks on me as I ate my Cheerios. I’d forgotten about that woman. That woman had been fierce.
“We would’ve gotten a house there years ago if it hadn’t been for your mother’s ‘past,’” he said, his grin colder and thinner.
“Ethan,” Mom said sharply. But her tone didn’t stop him.
“And then maybe Nora would never have seen what she saw, never even come close to something like that, just to go shopping.” He spat out the last word, but he looked especially pleased with himself. And with that, the other woman, that other Mom was gone.
She stared at her plate. He cut into his meat and stabbed a chunk of it into his mouth, clearly enjoying it. The red of the nearly rare meat turned my stomach. I concentrated on my peas, not sure what to make of the situation. Or my new insight into it. How did I not notice all this tension before? Maybe I did but just didn’t take it seriously. Now I could see this tug-of-war going on between them, and it was weighted against her. And the more she lost, the more he held it against her.
For a few minutes all I heard was the sound of chewing. I closed my eyes, and all I saw was red. And the word memento . That’s when I decided.
“Uh, I need to stay after school tomorrow to work on a project,” I said without looking up from my plate. “Art history.”
Dad said he’d send a car to pick me up. In fact, he’d send my own driver to pick me up every day until we moved, he added. Then he hurried out the door, muttering about meeting a client for drinks.
The next morning as I picked at my oatmeal, Dad sailed down the stairs. He pecked me on the cheek and slid a brand-new Nomura Pink Ice mobile, all pearly and paper-thin, across the countertop to me.
“It’s all set up for you, Princess. ID. Allowance. Schoolwork. And just press one for the car service,” he told me. He leaned over toward Mom. She turned to avoid his kiss. He grabbed her toast and headed out the door.
After breakfast I caught her
“It does sound nice,” I answered carefully, looking from Mom to Dad. “But I’d hate to change schools right now.” It was true. I had another two months left of my sophomore year at Homeland. And there was the prom and the yearbook.
Of course, I was also thinking a move might solve a lot of problems. Micah would be zero temptation there. Maybe the bad dreams would go away. Maybe we would be safer, but I wasn’t sure I could trust Dad anymore.
“You’ll make great friends there, the right ones,” Dad said as if it were already settled. He turned back to Mom. “There’s a house coming on the market today. The guy’s getting transferred to L.A. You’ll both love it.”
“Don’t those places have waiting lists?” I asked. One of my friends had moved to a compound last year. Her folks had put their names on the list when she first started school.
“You didn’t, did you?” Mom asked, glaring at Dad. “You put us on the damn list without asking me. Knowing how I felt. When were you planning on telling me?”
“When we got to the top of the list.” Dad grinned. “Now.”
Mom didn’t say anything.
“So we’re moving?” I asked.
“Yes, Princess, on the first,” he said. That was less than a month away.
Dad described the house. Lots of space. A pool in the backyard. A panic room in the basement. My own bathroom. And maybe next year I could even have my own car, he said, only to be driven within the compound. The insurance was so much cheaper inside the gates, he explained.
He did make it sound pretty glossy. He tried to placate Mom with the promise of a double commission. She was furious, though. And something else. That measuring, all-there look in her eyes reminded me of something I hadn’t seen in a long time. It reminded me of mornings years ago when she’d get ready for court by practicing her remarks on me as I ate my Cheerios. I’d forgotten about that woman. That woman had been fierce.
“We would’ve gotten a house there years ago if it hadn’t been for your mother’s ‘past,’” he said, his grin colder and thinner.
“Ethan,” Mom said sharply. But her tone didn’t stop him.
“And then maybe Nora would never have seen what she saw, never even come close to something like that, just to go shopping.” He spat out the last word, but he looked especially pleased with himself. And with that, the other woman, that other Mom was gone.
She stared at her plate. He cut into his meat and stabbed a chunk of it into his mouth, clearly enjoying it. The red of the nearly rare meat turned my stomach. I concentrated on my peas, not sure what to make of the situation. Or my new insight into it. How did I not notice all this tension before? Maybe I did but just didn’t take it seriously. Now I could see this tug-of-war going on between them, and it was weighted against her. And the more she lost, the more he held it against her.
For a few minutes all I heard was the sound of chewing. I closed my eyes, and all I saw was red. And the word memento . That’s when I decided.
“Uh, I need to stay after school tomorrow to work on a project,” I said without looking up from my plate. “Art history.”
Dad said he’d send a car to pick me up. In fact, he’d send my own driver to pick me up every day until we moved, he added. Then he hurried out the door, muttering about meeting a client for drinks.
The next morning as I picked at my oatmeal, Dad sailed down the stairs. He pecked me on the cheek and slid a brand-new Nomura Pink Ice mobile, all pearly and paper-thin, across the countertop to me.
“It’s all set up for you, Princess. ID. Allowance. Schoolwork. And just press one for the car service,” he told me. He leaned over toward Mom. She turned to avoid his kiss. He grabbed her toast and headed out the door.
After breakfast I caught her
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