“So you’re saying the exact opposite? That Kristina dragged you there?” Mom says.
“Yes.”
Dad sighs. “I don’t see why this even matters.”
I say, “It matters to me because my best friend just screwed me over when it was all her idea. I’ll never trust her again. Maybe the only friend she has in this house is you now, Mom.”
Dad looks concerned. Mom looks a mix of confused and smug. Frank S. looks hungry. He gets up and looks in the fridge.
“I checked the story with the few people in town who I trust. They said that’s the version they heard, too.”
I stare at her. “That’s because they’re repeating what they heard… from Mrs. Houck, probably.”
“Either way, my daughter dragged a fifth of the town’s Homecoming Court to a g*y bar and got them all arrested.”
“That’s bullshit and technically, we didn’t get arrested.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. I don’t know why I bother to try to get an honest answer out of you. You haven’t said anything… meaningful to me in years.” She goes into the living room and turns on a table lamp and begins to attack the curtains with the hot iron. I sit there and have thoughts about attacking her with a hot iron. Meaningful? As if she wasn’t too busy dressing Ellis up in diamonds and velvet to hear me if I ever did offer anything meaningful. As if she’d ever think anything I said was meaningful. Jesus.
Dad gets up and goes out the back door toward the garage, and I almost want to follow him and ask him if I can have a toke off the pipe just so I can unhear what she just said.
Instead, I go to my picnic table. As I lie here, bundled in my winter coat and scarf, I can smell Dad’s wafting pot smoke, and I find three planes all flying in a row in the dusky sky. Once I let go of how mad I am at Mom, I realize that I’m steaming about Kristina. On fire. Smoldering. Exploding.
I think of all the bossy moments and the perfect ponytail moments and the pressuring moments and what she made me do to Jeff Garnet. I’m too angry to lie here. I get up and walk to the edge of our yard and then back to the garage. Then I go past the side door and out onto the street and then over to Kristina’s house, where no lights are on and the minivan is still missing from the driveway. I sit on the back porch and swing on the swing.
I look around for something to vandalize. Something to punch.
I walk over to the back storm door and write LIAR on the glass with my finger, but it’s so clean, I don’t think anyone will see it. I write it again on the siding by the back door and the stone and the pear trees that line the back path. I write it on the garage door. Five times. LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR LIAR.
They say: Did you see Astrid Jones acting crazy over at the Houck place tonight?
They say: I told you they broke up.
Then, after one last LIAR on the black mailbox, I walk across the street to our house and get back on my table.
I find airplanes in the sky. I watch them. I picture the passengers. But I can’t find any love at all to send to them. I try my mantra. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. It’s hollow and stupid.
I don’t love anyone right now. Not even me.
“This is the longest Wednesday in the history of man,” I say to Frank S., who is sitting in his favorite spot on the bench by the back patio door.
“Try being on trial for impiety on a Wednesday. It’s far worse.”
When my phone rings, I think it’s Kristina feeling all the bad vibes I’m sending out. But it’s Dee. The minute her number comes up, I hear it: Stay away from my daughter.
“Hey! I was going to call you later.” I say.
“I miss you so much!” she says back. It makes me grin a huge grin.
“Me too. It feels like a year went by since—uh—Saturday.”
“I am sooooo sorry about that message my mom sent,” she says. “It was so uncool. I nearly died when I saw it.”
“It’s okay.” I am so relieved that I forget about Kristina the liar for a minute. And Claire the neglected mother who never gets to hear anything meaningful.
“Seriously. I nearly killed her. I’m really sorry.”
“Really. It’s fine.” I say. “I’m sorry I took you out to a bar that got busted. I feel like a tool.”
“How would you know that was going to happen? And anyway, you didn’t take me. I drove there all on my own.”
“Still. I had to say it,” I say.
“You okay, Jones? I hear all kinds of shit. Even an entire school district away.”
“That’s a really long line of whisper down the lane. I can only imagine the discrepancies.”
We laugh. It’s nice.
“Don’t believe what you hear,” I say. “Unless you hear that my mother and Ellis have disowned me, and my best friend is a lying bitch,” I say. “But I’m not going to jump off any cliffs, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’m glad,” she says. “And, hey, admit it. It feels nice to be out, right? No more hiding. No more secrets?”
“Uh.”
“What?” she says.
“Uh. I didn’t really tell anyone,” I say. “I mean, it’s been such a hectic week, and the only person I’ve really seen is my dad, and he’s just—uh—useless,” I say. I mean stoned. Useless and stoned.
“Hold up. They don’t even know about you?”
“Nope.”
“But everyone knows!”
“Not them. Not yet, at least.” I don’t mention that they don’t know because I haven’t told them I know, either.
“What about me?” she asks.
“What?”
“Do they know about me?”
“They don’t know about anything.”
“Why?” she says. It’s slightly whiny.
“I haven’t found the right time yet. That’s all.”
“Dude, this weekend was the right time. Right? That’s when I told my mom.”
“And she wrote me that text,” I say. Stay away from my daughter.
“Again—sorry. She doesn’t want you to stay away. It was just her reaction. You know. She was being protective. My hockey scholarships. My reputation. I’m still freaked out about the hockey scholarships. I even talked to Coach about it, and she’s pissed at me.” She takes a deep breath. “I asked my mom to call you or text you back to apologize, but she was too embarrassed.”