Chapter 9 - The Pickup Line Outside School
The truck was cold that morning. I could feel it through my jeans when Dad lifted me up into the back seat and clicked the buckle. My dress from dinner was gone and my backpack was too big, and the pocket thing was in my coat now, in the little side pocket where I could press my hand against it without anyone seeing.
Dad didn't turn the radio on. He usually did. He just backed out of the driveway slow and kept checking the mirror like he thought someone was going to come out of the house after us.
I watched the house get smaller. The curtains in the dining room were still closed. I didn't see Vanessa. I didn't see Tyler's car either, but I didn't ask.
Halfway down our road, Dad cleared his throat. "You eat enough? You want a gas station donut before school?"
I shook my head. My stomach felt tight. The heater started blowing and it smelled like old dust and Dad's coffee. I held my hands together in my lap and counted the bumps in the road so I wouldn't cry.
The school parking lot was already full when we got there. Cars were lined up with their brake lights on. Moms were waving. A crossing guard with an orange vest was blowing a whistle. Dad didn't pull all the way forward. He stopped in the line and put the truck in park and left it running.
He turned around in his seat to look at me. His eyes were red around the edges.
"You don't have to go in yet," he said. "We got a minute."
I looked out the window at the kids with their backpacks. I could hear the whistle and car doors slamming. My hands were sweating even though it was cold.
"Dad," I said. My voice sounded small. "If I tell everything, will you send me away?"
His mouth opened and then closed. He breathed out hard through his nose.
"What? No. Emma, no. Where did that come from?"
I picked at the edge of my coat pocket. I could feel the hard little shape under the fabric. "Like to another house. If I make trouble."
He unbuckled his own seat belt so he could turn more. His knee popped against the console. "Hey. Look at me, baby. Nobody's sending you anywhere. This is your home. I'm your dad. That doesn't break."
I wanted to believe him. I stared at the cracked leather on the seat. The truck kept shaking a little because it was running.
"But Vanessa said," I whispered.
Dad went very still. I could hear him breathing. "What did she say?"
My chest got tight. I remembered the pantry. The door half closed. The smell of cans and the light buzzing. Her hoop earring close to my face. She hadn't yelled. That was the scary part. She'd talked low.
"She said if I told, the new family would break," I said. "She said you wanted a happy house and I would ruin it. She said you'd have to pick and you'd be sad and Tyler would leave and it would be my fault."
I finally looked up. Dad's face had gone pale. His hands were gripping the back of his seat so hard his knuckles were white.
"When did she tell you that, Emma?"
"In the pantry," I said. "After I dropped the clip. She said to put it in my pocket and not show anybody. She said if I was good and quiet we could still be a family."
He closed his eyes for a second. I saw his throat move when he swallowed. Outside, a car honked. The line moved forward a little, but Dad didn't move the truck. Someone went around us.
"She wasn't trying to keep us together," he said, more to himself than to me. His voice was rough. "She was trying to scare you quiet."
I nodded. Tears slid down and I wiped them fast with my sleeve.
He reached back and held his hand out, palm up. I put my hand in his. His hand was warm and big and it swallowed mine.
"Listen to me," he said. "You telling the truth doesn't break this family. Lying about it does. You hear me? You didn't do anything wrong by pointing last night. You were brave."
The whistle blew again, closer this time. The crossing guard waved at us to move up. Dad put his truck in drive and rolled forward a few feet to the drop-off cones.
He parked and got out and came around to my side and unbuckled me. He kneeled right there on the blacktop so we were eye to eye, even with cars waiting behind us.
May you like
"You go in and have your day," he said. "That thing stays with you. Nobody takes it. Tonight, you and me, we'll figure the rest out. Okay?"
I nodded and hugged his neck hard. He smelled like coffee and truck air. He held me a second longer than usual, and I could feel him breathing like he was trying not to shake.
