Breakneck

Chapter 9: Twist

The following morning, I ranted to Daphne in between bites of pancake about the hardships of living on your own.

"And daycare is so expensive—I mean, they should have a government program or something, for people in my situation. Don't I deserve, like, a discount for being young and burdened?"

"You could always sleep with the manager," Daphne suggested.

I groaned. "Oh my God, you sound like Brian."

Between us, in the highchair the diner had provided, Luke was gumming on a teething biscuit. I was fairly certain he had teeth coming in, and anyway, it kept him occupied.

"Whatever. So what are you gonna do about getting a job?"

"I don't know," I said, slouching in my seat. I twisted my face into a pout. "I guess I'll spend today driving around, trying to find someplace that'll take me. I mean, it's not like Pittsburgh has a dearth of industry. There's got to be some place that's hiring."

"There's always McDonalds."

"Well, fuck, if it comes to that..."

Daphne wrinkled her nose. "Ew. Seriously, Justin, if it comes to that, you might be better off shaking your ass at some dance club or something."

I grinned. "I could peddle my ass on the streets—Brian's always said it was my most valuable asset."

"But then you'd have to have sex with nasty old men."

"Nasty old rich men," I countered.

"You could always get some old rich guy to take you in, become his, you know, live-in mistress."

I choked on my orange juice. "Are you suggesting I become a concubine?"

Daphne giggled. "Why not?"

"Well, first of all, concubines were usually given as gifts by infertile wives, with the intent of producing children where the wife couldn't—"

"Yeah, in Biblical times," Daphne interrupted, swatting my arm.

"And second of all," I went on, "I'm pretty sure that all the wealthy old men in Pittsburgh already have mistresses that they don't need to pay for. Anyway, I'm gonna find a job. I'll be fine."

We ate in silence for a couple of minutes.

"Your mom is really worried about you," Daphne said at length. "I think she might call the police."

Why did everyone want to talk about my mother?

"She won't," I said confidently. "She didn't even want to call the police when she thought that Brian was molesting me, she sure as hell won't call the cops now."

"Well... until she gives up..." Daphne bit her lip. "It's just that my parents are already furious with me. If I'm always sneaking out, they're gonna know that I'm going to see you, and then they'll tell your mom. And I..."

I swallowed. "Oh," I said, my voice small.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said automatically. "You're right."

The rest of brunch passed quietly, and then we parted ways. Daphne went home to do her homework. I went to go find a job.

Amazing, how much your life can change in less than forty-eight hours.

*

My job hunt lasted about two hours, called to an early end when Luke started getting cranky and wouldn't calm down even when I tried to get him to eat another teething biscuit. His morning nap had been cut a little short because I'd had to meet Daphne, and so he was probably ready for his afternoon nap a little early.

And of course, when I came back to the house, there was the goddamn Jeep sitting in the driveway.

"Fuck," I muttered, pulling into the drive.

Then I noticed that next to the head of brown hair, there was a head of flaming red hair in the passenger seat. Debbie.

What?

I shut off the car engine and paused for a moment, running over the possibilities in my head, but nothing I came up with made sense. And now Brian and Debbie were getting out of the Jeep. Best face them and figure out what was going on, get this over with.

Debbie practically barreled me over as I was getting out of the car. "Sunshine!"

"Um. Hi."

I squinted at Brian over Debbie's shoulder, but didn't get a good look before Debbie was grabbing onto my shoulders and holding me square in front of her. I discovered that my shoulder hadn't fully recovered from its encounter with Brian's floor, and winced.

"Do you have any idea how worried we've been?" Debbie demanded. "You're too fucking smart to be pulling shit like this! Your mother's ready to plaster Liberty Avenue with your face, thinking you're in some homeless shelter or something!"

"I'm fine," I told her, grinning a little in spite of myself.

"And a kid!" Debbie exclaimed. She released me, her eyes going to the back of the car. "A fuckin' kid! Jesus Christ, Sunshine, I almost fell over when Brian told me!"

My eyes flicked to Brian, who was unapologetic as always, and then turned my attention to Luke. "Yeah. Here, let me get him and we'll go inside. He's been fussy all morning, he's teething..."

I collected Luke from the backseat ("Oh, Sunshine, he's got your bubble butt!" "Uh, he's wearing a diaper, Deb..."), slinging his diaper bag over my shoulder, and led them into the house. I disappeared into Sara's room for a moment to take off Luke's winter garb, change his diaper and then put him in his crib. He cried throughout the entire process, only calming when I took my finger and rubbed at his gums in an effort to relieve some of the pain. I had to buy him a new teething ring, and maybe ask the doctor about baby Tylenol when he had his check-up.

Of course, there was the possibility that Luke shared my allergy to Tylenol, and oh God, I did not need to deal with an emergency room visit right now.

I left Luke in his crib, him finally having started to drift off to sleep. In the living room, Debbie was muttering to herself and opening cupboards, and Brian was against the wall, looking for all the world as though he were waiting for someone to spontaneously drop to their knees and give him a blowjob. Asshole.

I cleared my throat. "Does someone want to explain what's going on?"

The pointed look that I threw Brian seemed to have absolutely no effect on him.

Debbie shut the cupboard where I'd stuffed most of Luke's food and turned around, crossing into the living room. She approached me with a gentle look on her face, hand coming up to brush at my forehead. "Sunshine. Honey."

I didn't so much as twitch. I didn't need her fucking pity.

Debbie gave me a half-smile and stared at me for a moment longer, and then moved her hand down to rest on my shoulder. "Sweetie, do you know that when I had Michael, I was only a little bit older than you were?"

My eyes widened, and my mouth opened before I could stop it. "Really?"

She nodded, and I wondered if maybe it wasn't pity in her eyes, but empathy. Understanding. "His father had died overseas, and there I was, all alone with a baby on the way. I worked night and day at the diner to support us, and Michael always had everything he needed. It was a fuckin' lot of work, but I did it. People do it all the time. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't raise your own goddamn kid, Sunshine."

Was Debbie really backing me up? Supporting me? I hadn't had anyone support me since I'd gotten Sara pregnant—it had been Sara and I against the world, always on the defensive. Was there really someone on my side?

I felt vaguely dizzy.

"Not that this isn't sweet and all—"

"I don't even want to hear it," Debbie interrupted, throwing Brian a glare. "I'll be finished when I'm damn well finished."

"T—thank you," I said, regaining my voice. "I really appreciate it, Deb."

"You're welcome. Now, that being said," Debbie continued, and I suddenly sensed that I wasn't going to like the turn the conversation was about to take. "You dropping out of school is the fucking stupidest thing I've ever heard. You're a smart kid, and there's no reason you shouldn't go to college, same as anyone else your age."

I drew myself up, fury rising. "I told my father, I told Brian, and I'm telling you, I'm never—"

"Will you shut up and listen to her?" Brian cut in, pushing himself away from the wall. "Jesus Christ, you don't have to queen out every time someone tells you you're wrong."

"Well, I'm not going back there," I huffed, crossing my arms. "I'm not."

Debbie smiled. "I know. I have a better idea."

*

Three hours later, I was helping Vic set up Luke's crib in Michael's old bedroom. Brian had helped carry it in, bitching the entire time, and had taken off in his Jeep at the next opportunity. Debbie was downstairs with Luke, who had had his second cut-short nap of the day and was even more fussy as a result. But Debbie had insisted that she could handle it, and sent me upstairs to settle in.

"I really appreciate what you and Debbie are doing for Luke and I," I told Vic as we fastened the base of the crib. "I mean, I think we would have made it, but this is just... easier."

"Oh, it's got nothing to do with you," Vic informed me. "Sis has been suffering from empty nest syndrome since the day Michael started kindergarten."

I grinned.

"Anyway, it's about time I started earning my keep around here," Vic added, his own grin turning a bit sheepish.

We moved on to the side of the crib, securing the bottom into the track.

"It'll only be when I'm at school, I swear," I promised him as we screwed in the bottom joints. I was feeling a new, fervent appreciation for free child care services after discovering just how much it would have cost to have Luke in daycare. "The rest of the time, I'll take care of him. And I'll keep a tab on how much money Luke and I are costing you guys, and as soon as I graduate, I'll get a job and pay you guys back. I swear."

"That's quite a list of promises," Vic said mildly. "You don't need make a damn one of 'em, you know."

"I mean it. You and Debbie are giving me my life back," I insisted.

"Just know that we're not expecting any of that, then," Vic said. "Sis already laid down what we do expect."

I winced. "Yeah, I know. Still, thanks."

Vic didn't reply, and we finished setting up the crib in comfortable silence. I didn't know Vic well, but I thought that I liked him. The only problem I had was with the fact that he was HIV positive—and I knew, I knew intellectually that Luke had the same chance as I did of contracting the virus from him, but my (God help me) parental instincts were spinning in circles, a little. The thought of Luke being positive, because I'd decided to accept help rather than tough it out on my own...

I was making the right decision. I knew that, in my mind. I'd just have to wait a few days until the rest of me caught up.

Downstairs, I found Debbie slicing a banana. I stifled a groan.

"Please don't let him feed himself that," I pleaded. "I'm hoping to avoid a bath tonight." Luke was fussy enough without having to get him wet. Even now, seated in the high chair we'd brought over from Sara's, he was making unhappy noises.

"Trust me—it's an old teething trick. Frozen bananas."

"Really?" I asked. None of my baby books had mentioned it.

"Yep," Debbie said proudly. "Now that you're living here, you're gonna get all my parenting secrets."

Luke, becoming increasingly frustrated with his seat, started banging on the tabletop of the high chair, his unhappy noises quickly descending into cries. I picked him up before he really got going.

"I know it hurts," I murmured, bouncing him a little and trying to get my finger in his mouth so that I could apply some pressure. "I know, dude. I wish there was something I could do..."

Debbie opened the freezer and put the sliced bananas inside. "I called your mother," she told me as she turned around. "She's on her way over."

That had been one of the stipulations of me staying here. I had to let my mother know that I was here.

"Yay," I said unenthusiastically.

"She loves you, honey," Debbie said, her voice softening. "I know she's been struggling, but she's trying to understand. Don't be too hard on her. Even we parents screw up, sometimes."

She moved out of the kitchen, mentioning something about laundry, and I sat down at the kitchen table with Luke. He'd quieted since I'd started rubbing my finger on his gums.

Jesus, I of all people should know that parents screwed up sometimes. I'd left Luke with Daphne for my 'twenty more minutes', and it had ended with Brian getting beaten half to death, me almost losing Luke, and Daphne being in a boatload of trouble. But I hadn't done that out of a lack of love for my son. I had just been... selfish. When you kept your son prisoner in his own house, hidden away from the neighbors, violated his trust, and refused to stand up for him...

But according to Daphne, Brian and Debbie, Mom had really been freaking out since my disappearance. Maybe it had made her realize that even if she chose to sit around and let social norms rule her life, deferring to Dad most of the time, I wasn't going to. Maybe things were different, now.

*

My mother arrived in a state of hysteria. I barely had time to register her unkempt hair, lack of make-up and her casual clothing before she was pulling me into her arms, crying into my shoulder and clutching me tightly.

It kind of hit me then that Mom had spent the last two days not knowing if I was dead or alive. So I hugged her back and let her sob my name in the middle of the living room, while Debbie stood next to Vic, holding Luke. And just when it was getting a bit awkward, Mom suddenly pushed me back and grabbed me by the shoulders, not unlike Deb had done earlier this afternoon.

"Justin, if you ever—" She choked, eyes shining with tears. "I was so scared. I love you so much, you know that, right? I love you no matter what you do, or what you say, or—or who you sleep with. I just want you safe."

Now was not the time for me to make a smart-ass comment. "I love you too, Mom."

It was a few more minutes before Mom collected herself, and when she did she took the time to acknowledge the other occupants of the room. Excluding Luke. Apparently, Mom hadn't been worried about his life too much.

"I can't thank you enough for finding him—oh, thank you," Mom said as Debbie handed her a box of Kleenex. She sat down on the sofa.

"You want a cup of water, honey?" Debbie asked.

Mom shook her head. "Oh, no, thank you. I'll be all right. I'm sorry for—well—"

"Nonsense," Debbie said dismissively, sitting down next to her and patting her shoulder. "If it were my kid, I would have slapped the little asshole and then pitched an even bigger fit than you did."

Vic sat in the armchair, and I seated myself on the floor, letting Luke go free. His attention was caught by his stuffed hippo, which was lying a few feet away, and he was in pursuit.

"So," Mom said, and I abruptly realized that her gaze was fixed on me.

"I'm not going home."

Mom's face was pained. "Sweetie, your father—"

"I'm not going home," I repeated flatly. "And you can't make me. I don't care what you threaten me with."

There was a long moment of silence. Mom closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.

"Well, I certainly can't force you," she murmured, opening her eyes. "Heaven knows I haven't been able to for years. I suppose I should just be happy that you're not telling me that you've living with Brian."

I swallowed. "I don't think you're going to have to worry about Brian anymore, Mom."

"What happened?" Mom asked, frowning.

"Nothing."

She didn't believe me, but didn't press.

"Vic and I are happy to take the boys," Debbie offered. "They'll stay in Mikey's old bedroom."

Mom looked startled for a moment, but quickly pulled herself together. "That's unbelievably generous of you. Thank you."

Debbie waved a hand. "It's nothing."

I couldn't believe it that was easy.

*

But it was. Mom relented completely, allowing me to slide out of her life with such ease that I would have been hurt, if I hadn't felt that maybe I'd been cycling through enough pity parties over the past few weeks. For once, things were going the way that I wanted them to, and I was going to happy about it, dammit.

I was in the middle of a second go at my hand abstraction, this time using yellow, black, peach and brown colored pencils, when Debbie's voice suddenly broke through. "Sunshine! Dinner!"

Grabbing Luke up from the floor, I headed downstairs. Mm. Another benefit to not living on my own—Debbie cooking dinner for me. No longer having to relegate myself to spending twenty dollars a week on food for myself.

As I came down the stairs, I heard Michael whining. I'd heard him come in earlier, but I'd tuned it out in favor of my art. Now, though, I could distinguish his words.

"—there anyone else who could take him in? For Pete's sake, Ma!"

"No, they could not," Debbie snapped.

"What's for dinner?" I asked, coming into the kitchen.

Michael turned to glare at me, but his eyes quickly latched on to Luke. "Oh, look. It's Son of Boy Wonder."

"His name's Luke," I said, scowling.

"Whatever. Listen, you can't stay here. You're gonna have to find somewhere else to freeload."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Michael!" Debbie squawked, slapping him on the back of my head. "Don't you fucking tell Sunshine he's not welcome. He's family!"

"I know you don't like me, but—"

"Oh, please," Michael said, giving me a look. "It's not all about you, you know."

"Michael Charles Novotny—"

"Ma, the doctors said that you need to take it easy. How are you gonna do that if you've got to work even more hours to support Justin and his kid?" Michael asked.

"Doctors?" I repeated, frowning. "What doctors? Debbie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Debbie said, annoyed.

Michael rolled his eyes. "She's working herself half to death trying to pay off Uncle Vic's medical bills. They're barely making payments as it is, and they don't need you making things harder."

"Listen here, you little asshole, I don't need your permission to—"

"No, you listen here!" Michael said, cutting her off in his anger. "You do not need to take in another lost boy. He'll be fine without you. You need to think about yourself for a change, because you're sure not gonna be a help to anyone if you work yourself to death!"

There was a brief moment of silence at Michael's outburst, quickly broken by Luke's nervous whine.

"I—I can manage on my own," I offered. God, the last thing I wanted was for Debbie to hurt herself because of me. "Really. Luke and I will be fi—"

"You're staying right here, and I don't want to hear another word about it," Debbie declared, pointing a finger at me. She turned to Michael. "And not that it's any of your business, but I won't be working any extra hours on Sunshine's behalf. It's been taken care of."

The truth stung. "Mom gave you money for me, didn't she?"

Debbie turned to me, face softening. "Oh, sweetie. She just wants you to be taken care of, that's all."

"Sure," I said, my voice cracking on the word. Furious with myself, I cleared my throat and nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I figured."

I should have figured, anyway.

Luke suddenly reached up, his fingers going to my mouth and latching onto my lip, pulling. I smiled and brought my lips together, tugging on his finger and making him squeal.

"Now let's sit down before dinner gets cold," Debbie ordered.

I released Luke's finger. "I have to get—"

"I got his dinner, too, honey," Debbie said, and for the first time I noticed the baby food jars of yams, and a chicken and vegetables mash, next to a bottle of formula. It had only been pulled out of the diaper bag, but the fact that, for once, I had not been the one to prepare Luke's meal... I felt a little funny. Almost irresponsible. I made a note to make sure to be downstairs a little early for dinner, in the future.

"Thanks," I said.

"Does Brian know you've got a kid?" Michael asked, as I set Luke in his high chair (another thing that Brian had allowed us to put in the back of his Jeep, along with the crib).

"Yes," I told him. "He does. And the kid has a name, you know."

I let Michael chew on that. Let him wonder how long Brian had known. He'd clearly been wanting to hear that Brian had learned the truth and told me to fuck off—which wasn't far from the truth, but I'd be damned if I was going to tell him that.

"That's right! Luke Alexander Taylor," Debbie supplied, with a note of pride in her voice. "Like those Star Wars movies, right, Mikey?"

"Sure," Michael said, a bit sullenly.

"He's not named after the movies," I said, and then, trying to lighten the mood I added, "I tried doing my Darth Vader impression for him, but it made him cry."

"That bad?" Vic asked.

I gave him a mock-dirty look.

"Here, Sunshine, you can serve yourself first," Debbie said as she handed me a bowl of pasta.

It smelled amazing, and I told her so.

"You eat as much as you want, honey. It's my grandfa—oh, fucking hell, I forgot the cheese. Hold on."

"I've got it, Ma," Michael interjected quickly, rising to his feet. "You sit."

"I can get the cheese!"

"Sit," Vic and Michael ordered her in the same breath.

Debbie harrumphed and sat back down. "Well, fine."

I hid a smile behind a large bite of pasta. Next to me, though, Luke had gotten with the program that other people were eating food and didn't want to be left out. I scarfed down two more bites of pasta and then quickly unscrewed the jar of yams.

"I think I'm gonna get that promotion at work," Michael announced as he set the cheese down on the table. "I spent last night at Domonic's, celebrating Bob's promotion, and I think they really liked me!"

"Oh, sweetheart, that's great!" Debbie cried, reaching across the table and squeezing his arm. "I'm so proud of you!"

"I really hope I get it," Michael said, grinning.

"When will you know?" Vic asked.

Michael shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, they can only go so long without a store manager."

I tuned out the conversation slightly and focused on Luke, who was a big fan of yams tonight. Yech. It didn't even smell good.

Feeding Luke, I took the time to go over my homework load, which I suddenly had to worry about now that I wasn't dropping out of school. I had left my essay on As I Lay Dying half-written on my computer, which Mom had brought over today but I had yet to set up, and I had to start pulling together data for my bio project, and God knew what I'd missed in calculus. Daphne would fill me in on that one. And of course, there were the ever-looming SATs to worry about.

I didn't know if I was going to college. In all likelihood, wherever I ended up going, my SAT scores weren't going to matter very much. But I'd already registered for the test, and I hadn't been studying for the past two months only to let it go to waste now. And I couldn't leave Daphne to face the horrors of standardized testing all by herself.

Plus, it was just a test. I was going to rock the shit out of it, anyway.

"Sunshine, you hear that?"

I looked up, startled out of my thoughts. "Sorry, one more time?"

"Family dinner, next Sunday. We'll have the girls over and everything! What do you think?" Debbie asked, with such a bright smile that there wasn't anything I could do but nod my head and say that it sounded great.

I didn't want to think about what effect Luke was going to have on how people thought of me. They'd seemed to like me well enough when I'd been Justin the Stalker Twink. Meeting me as Justin the Runaway Teenaged Father might change things a bit.

And, though I didn't ask it, the most important question on my mind was whether or not Brian would be coming.

*

Monday passed by uneventfully, save for when Deb came bursting in around nine, proudly announcing that Michael had gotten his promotion, and then swooping Vic up into the most dysfunctional rendition of a swing dance I've ever seen. I got caught up on my homework, coached Vic on Luke and his schedule (and, in my paranoia, also wrote out a mini-manual for him and left it on the kitchen table), and worked on my "hands" piece some more. It was a busy Monday. Between all that, there was hardly any time to think about Brian. Or Daphne.

Who, as a result, practically mowed me over when I showed up for school on Tuesday morning.

"Oh my God, what are you doing here?" she demanded, squeezing me tightly. "You said you were dropping out of school! Where's Luke? Are you really coming back to school?"

"Stop strangling me and I'll tell you."

She released me, grinning manically. "Tell me! What the hell are you doing here?"

And so I relayed to her what had happened since I'd left her in the diner Saturday morning, all the while directing us into the warmth of St. James. It was really getting cold out—no doubt there'd be snow on the ground in the next few weeks.

Her eyes were wide by the time I finished. "Wow. Brian must really love you, to help you out after everything that happened."

I rolled my eyes. "He doesn't love me. He was probably just bitching to Debbie about how some stupid twink got him ambushed, and Debbie insisted on coming to the rescue."

"When did you get so cynical?" Daphne asked, frowning.

"I don't have the time to chase after him anymore," I answered with a shrug. "I've got Luke to worry about, now. I was a good fuck that he decided to have more than once—and maybe I didn't completely annoy him all the time. But now it's over, and I've accepted that."

I was lying my head off.

"But don't you love him?" Daphne pressed.

"Yeah," I sighed, letting sadness creep into my tone for the first time. "But he doesn't love me. And I don't have the time to make him fall for me."

Daphne looked conflicted, but after a moment, reached for my hand. "Well, do you think you can still get him to fuck you? Maybe as, like, a birthday present?"

I grinned at her. "I'll wish for orgasms when I blow out my candles, and see what happens."

She giggled. "Justin!"

"So, does this mean that I'm allowed to see you, now?" I asked. "Or have I become a pariah at the country club again?"

"Like that mattered to you last time," Daphne said, rolling her eyes.

My smile widened, remembering our numerous meet-ups despite her parents' decrees that she wasn't to hang out with someone who was clearly 'a bad influence' and 'was going nowhere with his life'. Her parents had never fully come around to the idea that I wasn't a serial impregnator, looking to implant Daphne with my seed, too, as soon as she was looking the other way. But they had, in the end, resigned themselves to the fact that we weren't going to be kept apart.

The situation had been different on Saturday, of course. But now that I was staying with Debbie, happily away from my father...

"As long as you're sure that your parents are okay with you staying with Debbie, then it's fine," Daphne told me. "I mean, I don't want to be the one who's responsible for them dragging you back home and shipping you off to some military school in Texas."

She had a point.

I thought about it for a second or so. "Well, I don't know how my dad feels about it, but Mom's the one who helped move my stuff over on Sunday. So I don't think she's going to be dragging me home any time soon."

Daphne made a face. "Your dad's gotta be majorly pissed, though. I mean, he tried to kill Brian on Thursday night!"

I debated whether or not to mention what had been bothering me since Mom had shown up at Debbie's house on Saturday. It wasn't the most solid bit of thinking I'd ever done, but on the other hand, it was Daphne. Who else was I going to tell, if not her?

"I'm not sure that Mom's told him where I am," I confessed as we came to a stop at my locker. "I mean, she helped move my stuff, and she's giving Debbie money for me and Luke, but I can't believe that he wouldn't be dragging me home if he knew where I was. Especially if he knew it was Debbie Novotny."

"Maybe she told him that he couldn't drag you home. Laid down the law, you know," Daphne suggested.

I snorted. "My mother? Daphne, please."

"She's got major cajones under her Mom-pants, Justin," Daphne said seriously. "I don't know where they came from, but you didn't see her when she showed up at my house that night. She was in charge."

I tried to imagine Mom giving Dad orders. After seventeen years of Mom's passive-aggressive, middle-finger-when-he-isn't-looking tactics, it was pretty damn hard to picture.

"Anyway, how else would she explain that she's moving all your stuff out?" Daphne pointed out.

"But it doesn't make sense!" I said, frustrated. "She's never stood up to him, before. Not like that."

"Well, you've never run away from home before," Daphne said logically.

"I think it's got something to do with the gay thing," I said slowly. "Her letting me move out, I mean. I don't think she knows how to deal with me anymore."

"I thought you said she was okay with it?"

I frowned. "She was. Mostly. It was just Brian that she had a problem with, and that's why she told Dad, and then he went ballistic, and... Yeah."

"Maybe she's just protecting you," Daphne offered. "I mean, your dad tried to kill Brian and—"

"Well, not really. He just wanted to beat him up—you know, prove he was the bigger man."

"Whatever. Your dad went apeshit. So maybe she thought you'd be safer if you were out of the house for a while, you know, until she and your dad can agree on things."

"But that would mean that she's expecting me to go back home, at some point, and I told her flat-out that I'm not going back there. I won't let my father anywhere near Luke. Not after what he did to Brian."

Daphne shrugged. "I don't know, then. Ask her."

"How?" I asked.

"Something along the lines of 'Hey, Mom, does Dad know where I am?' would suffice."

"No, I mean, how? What am I supposed to do, call her?"

Daphne gave me a weird look. "Uh. Why not?"

"I can't call her!" I couldn't have sounded more scandalized if I was channeling Emmett.

"Why not?"

I rolled my eyes. "Because! Look, it's not like she's allowing me to stay with Deb. I didn't need her permission. She's lucky that she knows where I am at all. Just because she's happy I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere doesn't mean that she's suddenly Mom of the Year, and it definitely doesn't mean that I'm going to call her up to chat."

"Didn't you talk when she moved your stuff, on Sunday?" Daphne asked. She sounded puzzled, and plainly did not understand.

I shrugged. "Yeah. A little. She spent a lot of time reminiscing about my pre-kindergarten years. Remember when we peed on that fire hydrant, 'cause we saw your uncle's dog do it?"

"Yeah. And it took me three tries to actually get it on the hydrant!"

"Well, we can't all be blessed with projectile urine."

"Hey, I got pretty good at projecting my urine, by the end of the afternoon! You just have to put your finger—"

"Ewww, Daph!"

"Well, you started it."

The warning bell rang, signaling that we only had a few minutes before we were due in homeroom.

"Anyway," Daphne said, "we should hang out sometime this week. I think I still owe you babysitting, from when you paid for my fake ID."

"I'm not going out any time soon," I told her, shaking my head. "Don't worry about it."

"Why not?" Daphne asked.

"I'm just not. I'll see you in English?"

She nodded. "Yeah. See you."

*

I got home from school and found Vic sitting on the couch, and Luke standing and gripping the coffee table. He was taking slow steps without letting go—the baby books called it cruising—and Vic was encouraging him by pulling his stuffed hippo along the edge of the table.

"Any steps, yet?" I asked, privately hoping that I hadn't missed my son's first steps.

"Not yet," Vic said. "He's been asking for you, though."

I frowned. "What?"

Luke got his hands on the hippo, as Vic had stopped moving it when he'd turned to talk to me, and grabbed it happily. He managed to stand upright for a few moments, the hippo clutched in his hands, and then he fell back on his butt and giggled. Then his eyes focused on me.

"Da!"