I shake my head. “It’s not like that.”
“Then what is this?” He holds up the chart, the one Isaiah made. “Are you experimenting on us?”
Tears stream down my face. “No, you don’t understand.”
“Of course I don’t understand, Andie! What were you thinking?”
“What was I thinking? What were you thinking?” Suddenly, I blow up, not afraid to burn anyone in the process. He opens his mouth to speak. His eyes have softened a bit, but I don’t care now. “You’re the one who checked out, not me. Do you think we don’t know what’s going on? The jobs? We’re not stupid. You never talk about her. You never talk to us at all. And then you want to know what’s up with me? You hid the journals and her rings and didn’t tell me about the videos! And you call her! You call her! But it’s like the rest of us can’t even talk about her!”
I have to stop to take a breath. My chest heaves.
I see in my dad’s face that he’s stunned. I’m not sure he can speak. I don’t know what else to say so I just let the whole admission hang out there.
Slowly, my eyes drift to Mrs. Carter. And I almost laugh. For as much as she begs for honesty in sessions, this might have been a little too real for her. She grips her pen so tightly, you’d think someone was trying to steal it from her. The muscles in her neck are clenched together, and her wide eyes don’t blink.
She finally breaks the silence. “Well, it’s good that you’re both expressing your feelings. It’s seems you’ve been holding back with each other.”
My dad huffs. I have a feeling we’re thinking the same thing.
“Perhaps it would be best for Andie to take the rest of the day off, and for your family to use the time to process everything you’ve learned. I have some phone numbers here. I can refer you to some professionals who are better equipped to help you heal.”
Oh that’s rich. She’s going to pass the buck.
Mrs. Carter fumbles in her desk drawer for a piece of paper and holds it out for my dad. He eyes it but doesn’t reach out at first. I don’t know whether it’s his skepticism about psychiatrists that’s causing him to hold back or whether he, too, is afraid to be dismissed. What will we do once we leave this room? Then we’ll have to talk to each other. For real. We’ve made strides in the past few days, but now that I’ve said everything out loud, we really have to face the truth. Mrs. Carter looks so uncomfortable, but her hand doesn’t waver. I’m about to relieve her and grab the piece of paper myself when Dad finally takes it from her. He immediately folds it in half and then again before standing and stuffing it in his pocket.
“Do I need to stop at the office or anything?” Dad asks. “To take her home?”
“No, it’ll be fine. I’ll take care of it.” She gives us both a tight-lipped smile. “Andie, will you step outside for a moment?”
My mouth goes dry. As afraid as I am of being alone with my dad, this might be worse. Are they going to talk about me? Is she going to suggest some sort of punishment? I stand slowly, and my knees feel shaky, but I walk toward the door.
“You can shut it on your way out,” she says.
I glance at my dad, but he won’t look at me, so I do as she requested. The school walls are old block concrete, painted bright yellow, and they’re too thick for me to hear any details through. Muffled voices sound clipped but controlled. I tap my foot and lean against the door, desperately trying to hear what they’re saying. I jump away when I see the doorknob start to turn and lean against the cold yellow wall.
Dad says nothing, but motions for me to follow him. I have to jog a few steps to keep up because he’s going so fast. He must be really mad. I begin to imagine what kind of punishment he might come up with.
Dad’s never really been the disciplinarian in our house. I guess we’re not like most families. Leah’s mom always used to warn her, “Just wait until your father gets home,” and that would make Leah snap right into line. Becki’s dad never had to do much of anything, but he was just so big that if he stood over you and stared, you wanted to behave instantly. And Gisela’s dad is a softie, but he had a way of telling stories about how he was disciplined when he was growing up that made you not want to push any limits with him.
In my house, Mom is the one we fear. Or feared, I guess. Not that she was mean or spanked us or anything like that, but she could always figure out what punishment would be the worst. It was like she could hear our silent pleas. Whatever you do, please don’t tell me I please don’t tell me I can’t go on the water park trip. Then, of course, that’s the thing she’d take away. Dad yelled louder, but he didn’t have a lot of bite behind the bark. When I was little, it made me run to my closet and cry, but as I got older, I could pretty much ignore it unless I thought it was going to lead to Mom stepping in with her brand of punishment, too.
I brace myself for yelling. I consider stuffing Kleenex in my ears, but then I remember I don’t have my backpack. I’m too afraid to tell my dad. I don’t think he’ll care, and I’m probably not doing any homework tonight anyway.
He still doesn’t say anything even when we’re outside. Okay, he must be saving it for the car. But even after the doors are shut, and the AC is running, he doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure what to do. Am I supposed to talk? Should I apologize? Will that make it worse? This is all fairly new territory for me. I’ve never been in big trouble before, not the kind where you get pulled out of school, and, even if I had, it would have been Mom coming to get me. She would have started talking the second we walked out of Mrs. Carter’s office, telling me how disappointed she was in me and how she spent all her time and energy giving me opportunities that I apparently did not appreciate, and she wouldn’t have stopped probably until bedtime.
Of course, I think, if Mom were here, I wouldn’t have been in Mrs. Carter’s office at all.
That’s when I start crying.
My dad sighs. “Andie …” but he doesn’t seem to know what else to say because that’s where he stops.
I bury my face in my hands as the sobs come.
I’m so sure my dad is going to start yelling at me now. Maybe he’ll be like all those dads on television who say, “I’ll give you something to cry about.”
But I feel the car come to a stop, and I look over to see him lean his head against the steering wheel. His body shakes. Then he sits up and turns to face me.
“I messed up so bad, Andie. I didn’t know what to do.”
Oh no. I’d rather he yell at me than this. I don’t know what to do with my dad falling apart in front of me. That’s kind of the whole problem.
But my dad is still my dad, after all, and he seems to know the exact right thing to do. He opens his arms and for the second time in less than a week, he folds them around me. This time, we both cry. Snot drips on his shirt, but he doesn’t ask me to stop. It takes a while, but eventually, he lets go, and I move back to my seat.
Dad puts the car back in drive and pulls away from the curb, but he doesn’t head toward home. He turns right at a stoplight where he should have gone left. Maybe this has something to do with what Mrs. Carter told him.
“Where are we going?” My voice is barely a squeak.
“To get Paige,” he says. “I think we need a family meeting.”
I’ve relaxed a tiny bit after my tears, but my body tenses again. I have to tell Paige what I did.
I must make some kind of sound that gets my dad’s attention.
“It’ll be okay, Andie.” His tone doesn’t convince me. Maybe he realizes how weak it sounds because he adds, “You know how much she loves you. Besides, I’m the one she’s mad at.”
Just as I start to think maybe he’s right, he adds, “Don’t think this lets you off the hook, though, Candy. What you did was stupid, and we’re going to talk about it, okay?”
I can’t do anything else but nod. Talking about it I can handle. I wonder if I’ll be grounded. Just don’t take the journals away. I need her words. My mom would have known that. And she
’d have made me earn them back with good behavior. Here’s hoping Dad hasn’t developed her punishment-sensing capabilities in her absence.
He gets out of the car, and I watch him buzz his way into the high school. Beads of sweat form at the base of my neck and along my forehead while I wait in the car. Dad turned off the engine, so there’s no AC. In the quiet heat, I feel tired—like more than not sleeping well last night tired. What’s that expression? Dog tired. Probably less tired than I have a right to feel, given everything that’s been happening and the fact that I got up way too early … for what?
Paige and Dad walk out, and I watch their body language. He’s slow and his eyes are on his feet. She’s still standing tall—he must not have told her—and she keeps looking from him to the car.
I’m still in the front seat, so she gets in the back.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
He takes off without answering her.
“You said it’s not serious, but it sure feels like a funeral in here.”
Bad choice of words. He whips his head around with an eyebrow raised.
Her hands go up in defeat or defense, I’m not sure which. “I’m just saying.”
“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” Dad insists.
And that’s the last thing anyone says. I am tempted to reach over and turn on the radio, but I’m afraid he’d slap my hand away. After he pulls in the garage, he orders us both to go sit down in the living room. “I’ll be right in.”
Paige and I take a seat on the couch. “Do you know what this is about?” she asks.
I nod.
She turns her body to face me. “Tell me.”
My breath comes in shaky waves. “I, um, did something stupid.”
Her eyebrows knit together, and she puts a hand on my knee. “Are you okay?”
“It’s not like that. I mean. Well, you’ll see. Just don’t hate me, okay?”
“Andie, what are you talking about?”
Thankfully, just then we both hear a door slam and we turn toward the sound. Dad walks into the living room, hauling a big box, one I recognize very well at this point.
“What the hell?” Paige asks.
Dad shoots her a glance. “Watch your mouth.”
She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything.
I’m not prepared for this. I don’t think any of us is, but it’s exactly what we’ve needed for a year.
My dad calmly explains what I’ve done so that Paige knows. “So it wasn’t Mom’s ghost that you and I were experiencing. I think your sister wants us to hear her. Well, we’re listening. Is there anything you haven’t said that you’d like to add?”
I’m put on the spot, but I deserve it. “I just don’t think Mom would have liked what we’ve become. And when I found the journals, I realized her words are still with us; she told us who we should be, who we are. I don’t want us to forget. Paige, she wanted you to have friends and go to college and you’ve just kind of stopped trying. You both have.”
At first, Paige is mad. Really mad. But in the end, she’s probably more disappointed than angry. She wanted Mom’s ghost to be real. That makes my heart hurt.
Dad shows us all of the things in the box that he kept. We talk about her smells and her journals.
When he pulls out the phone, he turns it around in his hand a few times. Paige is still pretty quiet except for some sniffling.
“You know, I call her sometimes,” he says. “It’s stupid, but I feel better when I hear her voice on the message and when I tell her what’s bothering me.”
There’s a pause, and finally, in a voice so quiet it takes a second before I realize it’s Paige, she says, “I sent a postcard to heaven.”
Dad’s head snaps in her direction, and we both watch her carefully.
“Just once. About six months ago. I felt like I couldn’t breathe if I couldn’t talk to her. I was so worried about the house and the bills and Andie, and I was at Walgreens when I saw this rack of cards. I don’t know.”
Dad reaches out and touches her shoulder. For the first time in over a year, Paige’s shoulders relax and she starts to cry. My dad wraps his arms around her and she lets him hug her.
She won’t look at me. But then, her hand reaches in my direction, and she touches fingers. It’s not much, but it’ll do. For now.
Then we get to the more difficult parts. He’s got a problem, he says. We already know, but it’s important for him to say it out loud and for us to listen.
Epilogue
Gisela and I huddle together in the stands. It’s the coldest Homecoming in a decade. I couldn’t care less about the game, but Gisela spouts off stats and reminds me when to cheer. I’d probably rather be home or at a movie, but it’s high school, and this is what you’re supposed to do. Besides, we like to watch Leah cheer. Apparently, she’d always wanted to try out but Becki had told her she wasn’t ready. Go figure. Leah was so happy to make the freshman squad even though Becki made junior varsity. Actually, Leah might have been relieved they weren’t on the same team.
Isaiah sits on the other side of me. He likes football, so he shushes us whenever we comment on something other than a play, like Leah’s hair being cute or the other team having ugly colors.
We’re high up in the stands, so from where I sit, I can survey the crowd. Becki is surrounded by new friends. Her head is thrown back in laughter. I look away before she catches me staring. I don’t miss the Becki she is today, but sometimes I wonder if she’ll ever change back to the one she was before.
For a while I was sure I’d lost Gisela and Leah, too. About a week after the big sit-down with my dad and Paige, Gisela and Leah called me up and asked if we could all meet. When we did, I told them more about what had been going on at home and my project. I apologized to Gisela.
“You could have talked to us sooner,” she said. “We would have helped.”
“I thought you were sick of me talking about my problems.”
“It wasn’t like that. At least, not for me. I’m glad you had Isaiah to help you, but it really hurts that you didn’t come to me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Leah explained that they weren’t hanging out with Becki very much anymore because she was too worried about appearance and popularity, and I guess she also kept saying some really bad things about me. When they tried to talk to her about it, she turned on them, too. When convincing them to cut me off didn’t work, Becki started ignoring them.
As summer started, I did a good job of keeping my friend worlds separate. I’d go to the pool with Gisela and Leah, and then the next day, Isaiah, Amanda, and I would go see a movie. Amanda really loves action flicks. Isaiah and I like watching her yell at the screen.
Then, one day in July, Gisela asked, “How come Isaiah never comes swimming with us?”
The truth was I’d never invited him, even though we were at the pool almost every day.
At first, it was weird. Maybe more for me than for them. I felt like I was bringing two worlds together, and I feared they would destroy each other or maybe me. Mostly, we still do things separately because we like to do different things, but sometimes, like tonight, we can all hang out together.
Starting high school was scary, but the best part is we could leave some things behind when we left middle school.
No, Isaiah doesn’t have this huge group of friends all of a sudden, but he’s also not a complete outcast either. Of course, hanging out with Amanda probably helps in that department. I don’t think anyone would be brave enough to make fun of him now. Plus, he’s got me. Well, us.
I hand Gisela my hot chocolate because she’s shivering. Isaiah grabs my hand and rubs it between his. We’re not dating, but, well, it’s complicated. Everyone thinks of us as a couple and we don’t correct them. I don’t think we plan to date anyone else, but we’re just not ready to think of ourselves as anything other than just … us.
After the game, we all head to the diner. Paige is w
orking tonight.
“Let me guess,” she says, “chocolate milkshakes all around? I can offer a special two-for-one deal.” She winks at me.
We all nod, and Isaiah adds, “Maybe some french fries, too?”
Paige rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as she walks away.
We’re the worst table because we leave a mess and not much of a tip, but Paige never complains and she always tells me she likes seeing me have fun. Tonight she does take the ketchup away before Isaiah can use half the bottle though.
“Hey, Andie,” she calls out as we’re packing up to head out. “I’m going to be late tonight. Study group is meeting up.”
Isaiah snorts. “Work and a study group on a Friday night? Careful, Paige, you’ll turn into me.”
I elbow him, and Paige laughs.
Paige is taking classes at the local community college. It was too late for her to apply anywhere else, but they do have a track team, and she says she’s going to join this year. Her old high school coach even says if she does well, she might still get a scholarship somewhere next year. Dad says she doesn’t need a scholarship. Apparently, there’s always been money put aside for college, and I guess he didn’t blow all the insurance money—he just lost contact with life for a while. Being at the casino was an escape. There was nothing there to remind him of Mom or the fact that she isn’t here anymore. He had to concentrate to play cards. Plus, once he lost, he kept thinking if he kept playing, he’d win it back. “Your brain starts playing tricks on you when you have an addiction,” he says. He keeps going to the meetings so that he can spot the tricks before he acts on them.
Paige will probably move away next year, and I’ll miss her like crazy, but it’s what she’s supposed to do. It’s what our mom wanted her to do.
“You’d better get going,” she says. “Dad’s going to get worried.”
Paige didn’t talk to me for two days after that day Dad picked me up from school and told her what I’d done. I was so scared she’d never talk to me again. But on day three, she came to my room after her shift at work. I was under the covers, reading, and I didn’t hear the door open. She lifted the blanket and slid in underneath.
The Haunted House Project Page 15
