The Impossible Knife of Memory (18 page)

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It took the rest of the afternoon, a raid on Mrs. Rappaport’s closet, and a cheeseburger (medium rare, spicy mustard, toasted bun), but by the time Finn and Topher got to Gracie’s house, I was costumed.

“Well?” Gracie asked the guys as she spun me around in the driveway. “What do you think?”
“Aaah,” Topher said, incapable of looking at anyone other than his girlfriend. Gracie’s Sexy Nurse costume had robbed him of the power of speech.
“Erm,” said Sherlock Finn, eyes wide. “Do I get three guesses?”
“If you say Sexy Big Bird, I will punch you in the throat,” I warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Finn said.
“Come on!” Iron Man, aka Garrett, grabbed his sister’s hand and pulled her down the driveway. Topher followed, his eyes still on Gracie.
“Come on, you guys,” Gracie called to us.
“In a minute,” I promised.
The wind was picking up, blowing hard enough to send the last of the leaves to the ground and make little tornadoes, the tiny funnels gathering speed and spinning down a street filling with superheroes, witches, and monsters who giggled as they ran from house to house, their bags already drooping with candy.
Finn waited for our friends to get a little farther away, then he drew me into the shadows. “I like the mask.”
I kissed him.
“The wings are cool, too,” he eventually said.
I’d woven an entire bag of feathers into an old shawl of my grandmother’s. Gracie had pinned the most colorful feathers in my hair. She’d also dug into her treasure chest of makeup and painted bold streaks of violet, gray, and turquoise around my eyes. Under the shawl, I was wearing black tights and a black football jersey of her dad’s that went down to my knees. As long as I kept my wings on, no one could see the name and numbers on the back of it.
The wind stirred my feathers. I touched the fat piece of amber-colored glass hanging around my neck. In the bottom of my grandmother’s jewelry box, it had looked like a garage sale leftover. In the half-light, with the wind gusting, it glowed, transforming me.
“This is a magic amulet,” I whispered into his ear. “I am an owl, bird of the night. I see everything. I know everything.”
“Do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Yes. Beware, boy, or I’ll turn you into a toad and eat you.”

* * *

We followed Garrett for hours: running up driveways, cutting through yards and gardens, begging him to share his loot and laughing as he found a million and one reasons why he wouldn’t. His Iron Man costume was one of the best out there, but I don’t think he cared. For a while, we walked with some of his buddies. Their parents wore costumes, too, video game characters and football players and vampires, lots of middle-aged vampires, some sipping from coffee go-cups that did not have any coffee in them, given how often they tripped over their own feet.

Topher spent a while on the phone, lagging behind and talking into it so quietly I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Gracie gave him a dirty look when he caught up to us and pulled away when he tried to put his arm around her waist.

“What’s going on?” Finn asked.

“Party at the quarry is hot.” Topher kept his voice low enough that the parents ahead of us wouldn’t hear him.
“No,” Gracie said.
“The place doesn’t have ghosts,” Topher said. “I asked. But it does have Jell-O shots, dancing, and the possibility of a bong or two.”
“Nothing good happens there,” Gracie said. “I’m not going.”
“All those stories are exaggerated,” he said. “It’s just a way to get girls nervous so they’ll want their boyfriends to hold them tight.”
“Well, maybe you should find a different girl,” Gracie said.
All that magic in the air, squealing kids, spooky music, free candy, and those two had to fight. I was beginning to see signs of zombification in both of them, but Halloween was the wrong time to bring up the subject and, besides, I had better things to do.
Finn and I took advantage of every shadow to sneak in kisses. When thin-boned fingers of clouds raced over the moon, it felt like I could soar.

Gracie’s mom had given permission for Finn and Topher to hang out until midnight watching movies with us, so when Garrett’s bag was full, the four of us headed back toward the Rappaports’.

“I think you need some sweats,” Finn said for the fiftieth time. “You can’t claim to be a very wise owl if you get pneumonia.”

“I’m not just an owl, I am Athena.” I flapped dramatically, twirling so he wouldn’t see my teeth chatter. “Goddess of wisdom and weaving and weapons and cheeseburgers. Goddesses do not wear sweatpants.”

“They do when they’re in human form. I’m pretty sure it’s a Goddess Law.”
I sneezed. “Goddess Law? I am so using that.”
“I’m not kissing you again until you get something warmer.”
“How can you be boring and hot at the same time?”
We caught up with Gracie, Topher, and Iron Man and told them we were detouring past my house and would meet them in a few minutes. Finn insisted on draping his coat over my shoulders, and did it gently so I wouldn’t lose any feathers. The warmth felt better than I wanted to admit.
The rental car parked in the driveway brought me crashing back to Earth.
“Ugh,” I said. “My father has a date. Stay outside, okay? The sight of her might blind you.”

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They froze, caught in the act of laughing.

A blue cloth covered the dining room table. Two long, white candles stood in the middle of it, flames jumping. A glass beer mug filled with grocery store flowers sat between the candles, next to matching salt- and pepper-shakers I’d never seen before. Music was playing from a phone at the end of the table, the crappy, soft oldies Dad hated.

My father stood quickly. The napkin that had been in his lap fluttered to the ground. “I thought you were sleeping at Gracie’s.”

“I need my sweatpants.”

He’d shaved. Found the iron, too, because his khakis didn’t have any wrinkles. Neither did his shirt, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. His old watch was strapped on his left wrist. He was wearing a tie, too, an honest-to-goodness tie, knotted with military precision.

I hit the switch to the left of the door and turned on the living room lights.
“Didn’t think you’d be home till tomorrow,” Dad said, blinking. “Yeah, um . . . well.”
Trish reached out and muted the phone.
Threat
“Why is she here?” My voice sounded like it came out of someone else’s mouth, someone calm, someone whose heart beat slowly.
Under the table, Spock whimpered.
“I invited her,” he said.
“Are you crazy?” I asked, still calm, though my hands were damp.
“Hello, Hayley.” Trish stood up, setting her napkin beside her plate. She took a few steps in my direction and stopped. “Wow. You look so grown-up.”
“Wow,” I said,
calm
,
calm
,
calm
. “You look old. No, not ‘old,’ that’s not the right word. ‘Diseased,’ maybe.”
“Whoa, princess.” Dad put his hands up as if he were being held at gunpoint. “That’s not necessary.”
“Not necessary?” I asked. “When did this happen, this invitation? Was it before or after you told me she coming? Oh, wait. You didn’t tell me, did you?”
The polite mask fell off his face. Adrenaline shot into my heart.
“You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d say ‘Trish? The drunk who abandoned us?’”
There was a knock at the front door.
The snake opened her mouth. “Hayley,” she said, “you have to give me a chance.”
“I don’t have to give you shit!”
“Enough!” Dad’s voice shook the walls.
The noise in my head was so loud I barely heard him. I had crossed the floor. I was in her face. “Get out now or I’m calling the cops.”
The knock sounded again. Spock headed for the door as it opened.
“Excuse me,” Finn said. “It’s just . . . you were yelling. Everything okay?”
“We’re fine,” Dad said.
“Miss Blue?” Finn asked.
Assess
Trish hadn’t flinched. She met my gaze, having to look up a bit because I was taller than she was. She wore contacts instead of glasses. Concealer that couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes, hair dyed a flat brown with faded highlights. Her blush stood out like stop signs on her cheeks because all the color had drained from her face.
The front door closed. Finn’s footsteps and then his voice, “Hello, Mr. Kincain. I’m Finn, remember? We met a couple weeks ago.”
“What are you doing here?” Dad asked him.
Trish stepped around me and walked up to Finn, her hand outstretched. “My name is Trish Lazarev,” she said. “I’m an old friend of the family.”
Finn shook her hand. “Finnegan Ramos, ma’am, new friend of the family.”
“You told me you’d be with Gracie and her brother,” Dad said.
“We were. We were just calling it a night,” Finn said. “I walked Hayley home because she was cold.”
“You’re cold ’cause you’re not wearing any goddamn pants,” Dad said to me.
“It’s a Halloween costume, Andy,” Trish said mildly. “It’s very cute.”
“You should see the mask,” Finn said, holding out the bird face.
“Stop it!” I shouted, not willing to let them turn this into a game of plastic people talking about nothing while hungry lions paced in the middle of the room.
“Hayley, please,” Trish said.
I pointed at my father. “This isn’t about Halloween or pants.” I pointed at Trish. “It’s about you. Did you drug him? Is he having a brain bleed? I mean, God—”
“That’s enough, young lady,” Dad growled.
“No, Andy, don’t!” Trish shouted.
And this, always this. The part where Dad loses it, except he was supposed to grab her, not me, that’s what it said in the script; she’d bitch at him and nag, or he’d yell at her and no matter how it started, it ended with shoves and screams and broken things, and sometimes the broken thing was her, and sometimes it was him. Never me because I was small enough to hide in the closet or under my bed. But that wouldn’t work anymore. I was too big.
Dad’s breath smelled like whiskey and apple pie. This close, his eyes were dead flat, with no expression, not even anger. He looked at me like he didn’t know me. Maybe if my hair was still in pigtails, maybe if I was two feet shorter and missing my front teeth, then he’d see me.
Finn shouted something and suddenly he was next to me. Dad shoved him away. Finn came back and Dad grabbed his coat and there was Trish right in the middle of everything, her face inches from mine, from Dad’s. This was where she’d slap me or maybe Dad or maybe even Finn. This was where the screaming would pitch up and then something would fly through the air, an ashtray, a beer bottle, a table, and they would roar at each other and somebody would bleed and—
“Andy.” Trish’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Look at me.”
Dad squeezed the front of Finn’s coat tighter.
“Please, Andy,” she said. “Please look at me.” She put her hands on my father’s fists. “What have we been talking about all night?” she whispered.
Daddy closed his eyes and opened his hands.
Finn and I both stepped out of range. I mouthed “Go,” but he shook his head. Dad sat heavily on the couch, expressionless. Spock hopped up next to him and laid his shaggy head on Dad’s lap.
“How about we let Hayley get her sweatpants and go to her girlfriend’s for the night, like she planned?” Trish asked.
The only sound was the
whump, whump
of Spock’s tail on the couch cushions as Dad scratched his ears.
“Or I can leave,” Trish said. “Whatever is going to make you comfortable.”
Whump, whump, whump, whump, whump
.
Dad looked at the dog, but spoke to me. “You should go, Hayley.”
“But—”
He shook his head. “I need to talk to Trish. Will this guy walk you to Grace’s?”
“Of course, sir,” Finn said.
“Would you mind waiting for her outside?” Trish asked.
Action

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I emptied my backpack on my bed, then stuffed it with a pair of jeans, socks, underwear, a couple of books, and all the money in my secret stash  .  .  .
heart pounding legs running lungs heaving
 . . . I pulled on leggings and then sweatpants . . .
get out get out get out . . .
Put on a turtleneck and my heaviest hoodie . . .
run hide watch your back . . .
Took the hunting knife out of my sock drawer and put it in the pouch.

Fought the urge to set my room on fire and scream while the windows and mirrors shattered. Fought the urge to reach inside and punch my own heart until it stopped beating or until I stopped caring, whichever came first.

I walked out of my room. Down the hall.

They were sitting at the table again. She had the coffee cup to her mouth. He stared into the candle flame.
I grabbed my feathered shawl off the floor. Slammed the front door behind me, hoping that it would make the roof cave in. I did not look back to see if it did.

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“Wait!”

I turned right at the bottom of the driveway and kept walking.
“Wait, where are we going?” Finn called after me.
Walking, walking . . .
He fell into step next to me. “Gracie’s house is the other way.”
What if she kills him? What if she upsets him so much, he shoots her, and then turns the gun on himself?
“I’m not going to Gracie’s.”
“So where are you going?”
Walk. Just walk
.
“Bus station.”
“That’s ridiculous. You don’t run away because you don’t like your dad’s date.”

What if he’s been getting worse because she’s been messing with his head? What if he has truly lost it, as in he needs to be tied to a bed, he needs them to shock his brain again? What if he’s already gone over the edge and can’t come back?

“Come on, really?” He jogged ahead then turned and walked backward a few paces in front of me. “What time does the bus leave? Where is it going? You don’t know, do you?”