Top Ten Uses for an Unworn Prom Dress Read Online Free PDF Page B

think he was telling the truth.
    Which was crazy. He'd been a successful computer programmer for more years than I'd been alive. Could he have possibly sunk every penny into this beige castle?
    Or was it a lie?
    I probably should have just shrugged and walked out. Or played my ace: threaten to move in with them if Mom lost the house.
    Instead, with anxiety churning in me so fiercely I could hardly see, I leaned
my
elbows on my knees, andlooked him dead in the eye. “If Autumn needed the money, you'd find it for her.”
    My words hanging in the air, I waited for him to react, apologize, make a denial. Something that would give me leverage.
    Instead, he knocked the breath right out of me.
    “You know,” he said, “you're right.”

Wad up a fistful of the pristine crinoline and shove it down your father's throat until he gags, chokes, and becomes as stuffed as a Thanksgiving turkey .
    I balled my fists at my sides, praying for inner strength. I'd known, deep down, he loved her more, but to hear him admit it, so easily, without shame … wow. It hurt a thousand times worse than any spike drill or lap run Coach Luther had ever put me through.
    “Autumn is a toddler,” my dad went on, all steelytoned and paternal. “The only reason she'd need money would be life and death. Copayment on surgery or something.”
    I leapt to my feet, tottering a little in my heeled sandals. “This is life and death, too, Dad. Don't you see?It'll be the end of Mom's sanity and the end of my life as I know it!”
    After a long inhale, Dad rose and stared down into my eyes. “And your mother is okay with taking money from me?”
    “She has no idea I'm here. I was …,” I said, then reminded myself to think positive, “I am going to take the money to the bank myself. Then afterward, tell her I deposited what I had left over from the money Grandma left me.”
    Okay—truth? Grandma's money was long gone, taken out of the ATM in twenty-dollar bills all last year, before I'd blown the rest on The Dress. But I'd known better than to admit all that to Mom, so it was reasonable for her to believe I still had some.
    “Look,” I said, speaking over the thundering of my heart, trying to sound adult and levelheaded. “You pay Mom the bare minimum of child support. No alimony. You
owe
us this.” My voice caught. “You owe me this.”
    After a moment, he nodded. “You're probably right.”
    I was?
    Well, of course I was!
    He disappeared, then returned with a slender checkbook and pen. “How about I make it out to the bank?”
    I tried to feel joy or triumph, but it was impossible to isolate any one feeling. “Yes, the name—”
    “I know. I'm the one who secured the mortgage.”
    He tore the check out and handed it to me. “Wait until Friday to deposit this. I'll have it covered by then.”
    I didn't know from where, or how. I didn't really care.
    “Take it into the bank yourself. Get a receipt. And mail it back to me.”
    I wanted to get mad at him for trying to take charge, and for demanding proof that I did the right thing with his money, but I was too busy trying to swallow the lump in my throat. Which wasn't easy. Not because the lump was so huge, but because the resentment, relief, and the load of other feelings weren't just in my throat, but teeming throughout my entire body.
    I walked back toward the entry hall, managing a goodbye wave at the two-year-old menace. She glanced over, her hair dark and glossy like Caffeine's, her blue eyes dulled by the TV, and for an instant she actually looked cute.
    Dad followed, hot on my heels. “Nicki? I really hope you didn't mean what you said earlier, that you think I care more about Autumn than you. What I feel is exactly the same. You're both my daughters, even if I live with her.”
    Everything inside me tightened. I knew then why he'd given me the money. Not because of Mom or me or the possibility of us becoming destitute. Because I'd rubbed his nose in his bias—I'd made him acknowledge