Rule #9

by Sheri Duff

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I beg Gaby for extra hours during my mom’s absence. Gaby won’t give them to me. In fact, she gives me fewer hours, which means she’s in on something with my mother.

  Fine.

  Most nights, I stay after school to avoid the house and the people who live there. It’s difficult to avoid my father. He arrives at my school every day for football practice as I’m leaving—or should be leaving.

  Some days I stay at the school and some days I don’t. When I don’t hide in the library at school, I head to the public library, Vianna’s house, or Pollywog’s. I don’t go home, my home, the one where my father and his new wife don’t live. My house feels empty without Mom.

  I always make it to the Trask house for dinner. Alicia’s an amazing cook, and even though I feel like I’m crossing over to the Dark side, I don’t want to miss these meals. Most nights after dinner, my father rushes to his den to look at football videos taken of the Stallions’ next opponent. I help Mr. Morales clean up while trying to ignore him. He’s always talking. The man never shuts up, and even though he doesn’t lecture or anything, a person can only take so much. I grab the plates from the table and put them on the counter next to the sink.

  “So, hijita, tell me about school, what classes do you like?” Mr. Morales rinses each plate, and then hands them back to me one at a time.

  “English,” I say, taking the plate and putting it in the dishwasher.

  One-word answers don’t bother him. He continues: “I love to read. What are you reading?”

  “Truman Capote.” I walk to the table and bring him the serving bowls.

  “Oh, I like him.”

  “I hate him,” I say, hoping this will quiet the old guy up.

  “I enjoy Harlan Coben,” Mr. Morales says.

  “I read one of his books. The Woods. It was intense.”

  “I haven’t read that one,” he says while he hand-washes what doesn’t fit into the dishwasher, which leaves me with nothing left to do, since Alicia has silently worked around us, scrubbing down the table and counter.

  “I have it at my house. I’ll get it for you.”

  “That would be nice. Thank you.”

  Why am I talking to him? And why did I let the conversation change from one-word answers to I’ll loan you a book? I should have run to my room to hibernate like I do most nights. It’s been pretty easy to steer clear of my father and Alicia. Dad is focused on football. Alicia has a job, but I don’t know what she does. Something with kids. I think she works for the state. She doesn’t talk about it. She spends many nights going through work files.

  I need to keep my distance from all of them. It has kept me out of trouble, and it will save me for when my mom comes home and they push me out. They’ve got to be sick of me. But then there’s the Jack thing. Alicia is connected to him, so I need to be careful. Why? Do I like him? Yes, so far. Does he like me? I don’t know. I mean, we haven’t really gone out or anything. The night at the coffee shop doesn’t count, I don’t think. Holding hands to make Sidney go away doesn’t count either. Do those pencils count? I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. He’s not going to gym class anymore. I think he switched classes. And he’s absent at lunch. He makes me crazy.

  I wonder how close Jack is to Alicia, with his sister being Alicia’s friend. Do they talk? How long have they known each other? I could ask her where he’s been, but that would mean I’d have to be friends with my father’s wife. I don’t know if any boy is worth that. And, even if he was, would Alicia really want anything to do with me? I’m the daughter, the threat.

  “So deep in thought,” Mr. Morales says.

  I forgot he was standing there in the kitchen with me. Can the old man help me decipher my so-called relationship with Jack? Probably not.

  “I have homework to do.” I take the steps two at a time to the room I sleep in.