“My bagel, but that’s fine!” James stands up and grabs a packaged sandwich out of the fridge. “As far as I’m concerned, they don’t have to give any more concerts. The singer screeches like a cat whose tail’s been stepped on. And those stupid masks... Psychoanalytically speaking, people who hide their true face are profoundly?—”
“Stop analyzing everything. Analyze the cereal,” Arizona interrupts, looking as if she’d like to slap the bagel right across James’s face. “Asher Blackwell doesn’t screech at all. Besides,he has the most amazing ice-blue eyes in the world. Like Ian Somerhalder.”
“Deeply insecure or violated,” James unapologetically finishes his sentence. For the first time, he doesn’t swear when he talks about psychology.
Dad hands Arizona the newspaper and smiles lovingly at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Unable to stop, I clench my hand again under the table, my fingernails digging painfully into the skin. I hate it when Dad is so kind and attentive to Arizona simply to hurt me. He thinks he can force me to speak by withdrawing his love, but he’s only making it worse. I feel the pressure of all the unsaid words building in my throat.You’re my dad! You’re supposed to love and protect me. You’re supposed to be there for me!
James takes long strides toward the door. “Be in the car in two minutes, Kansas,” he says brusquely. “I hope you can manage that! Ari—are you ready?”
“Almost!” She quickly stuffs the rest of the bagel into her mouth and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.
I nod cautiously, but James is already gone. I wish I could tell him how much I miss him. He wasn’t always like he is now. He used to be my sea of serenity when Arizona grew too excited for me. I often sat with him in the garage for hours, especially when he was tinkering with his bike or repairing one for his friends. He was always Mr. Fixit, and everyone in our neighborhood came to him. The elderly Mr. Tabor with his old clock radio, the widowed Mrs. Wright to help repair her garden fence, and even four-year-old Tobias with his yellow duck that had a music box in its stomach. James is fascinated by mending broken things, which is probably why he wants to study psychology.
At the time, I was simply happy that he let me watch, even if I hardly said anything. Secretly, he was probably glad that at least one of his sisters was listening to him. For some reason, thetwo of us had the same understanding of life, even if we couldn’t articulate it at the time. When Mom left, the emptiness she left behind bonded the two of us much more than it did him and Arizona. As far as I was concerned, they were always rivals: who was allowed to order for me in the restaurant, who bought my ice cream.
I stare at the door James disappeared through. Both of us literally no longer understood the world. It had become strange to us.
Subconsciously, I shake my head as Arizona pockets her cell phone and walks toward the closet, with the headphones still around her neck, the newspaper in her hand. She’s already engrossed in the article. “See you tonight!” she says mechanically to Dad, who shouts, “Take care!” after her.
I stare nervously at the hazelnuts floating in my still-almost-full cereal bowl. The kitchen seems empty without James and Arizona, almost soulless. I breathe in and out shallowly, wishing Dad would say something nice, something to help me get through this day, but the air is charged with tension. It’s like the silence between us is a scream so loud it penetrates me to the core.
I can’t eat anymore.
“I’ve signed you up for summer school.”
It takes me a few seconds to realize that his words are meant for me and what they mean. A rush of adrenaline courses through my veins, chilling me despite the heat.
The principal’s daughter, Abigail, recently announced that Chester and a few Hills also have to attend summer school.
“Your principal called me. He says your teachers think you can’t keep up with the class material. Besides, you have too many absences.”
Oh God, no!With trembling fingers, I reach for my cell phone—my communicator with the outside world.Please don’t!I type nervously and push toward him.
He doesn’t even look at it. “Your senior year begins in the fall, and I don’t want you to get bad grades. It’s going to be hard enough to find a college that will take you, if it works out at all.”
From today on, I won’t miss any more days, I quickly add.I promise! I’ll study all summer!I hold the phone in front of his face, but Dad stands up, unmoved, without reading my words.
This is worse than a punch to the face.Don’t leave! Look at what I’m trying to say! Don’t ignore me!I scream in my mind.
Dad is already at the door. “You’re already registered, and you will go. That is final. The school has cost me a fortune so far, and I won’t have it squandered unnecessarily!”
Dad!I jump up, phone in hand again, feeling pathetic.Read what I wrote! Please read it! I can’t go to summer school. I’ll die if you make me!
Dad doesn’t seem to notice my panic. He pushes my hand down.
“Speak if you have something to say. You can speak. We all know that. Now get your things, or the others will leave without you.”
His words seem cruel to me.Kensington is hell, I want to shout, but the distance between me and the world is too great. I’m trapped in my silence. I haven’t spoken in so long, and moving from one world to the other is simply too difficult. I can’t bring the inside and the outside together; my body is blocking it, and my soul even more so.
My eyes are burning.Dad, please, I’m not doing this on purpose!I type, but he doesn’t read that either.
“I don’t know what to do with you anymore,” he says in that hopeless, resigned tone that always pulls the rug out from under me. He considers me a burden and a loser. Even worse, a liar.
I press my nails firmly into my palm, the sharp pain exploding from the wounds that never heal.
With a shake of his head, he takes one last look at me and then simply leaves me standing there.
