Early to Death, Early to Rise - Kim Harrison [25]
“Dad…” I complained. “I’m just not hungry.”
He didn’t say anything, eyebrows high. Josh wiped his hands on his jeans, rocking back from the sink as he looked at me, clearly wanting to say something. “I have to get my stuff,” he finally said, then ducked out of the kitchen to leave an uncomfortable silence.
Nakita brought the plate of bread to the sink, hesitating only a moment before reaching for the bag to put it in. “Can we do the dishes later?” I asked my dad. “I want to…” I want to what? I thought in panic. I couldn’t admit I wanted to talk to Josh! My dad might think he was my boyfriend or something. I mean, he sort of was, but it wasn’t like we’d even kissed or anything. Yet.
“Go, go, go,” he said, making a shooing motion. “I’ll clean up. You go talk to Josh.”
Nakita was scowling. She didn’t like Josh much. I, though, was delighted, and I spun around, wiping my hands on the drying towel. “Thanks, Dad!”
“I have to call Officer Levy back anyway,” he said, looking at the clock on the stove.
Officer Levy? Oh, crap.
I rocked to a stop. Nakita and I exchanged looks, mine worried, hers peeved, probably at Barnabas for stopping her from scything the woman. My dad, though, didn’t look concerned as he pulled himself up to his full height.
“Dad, I can explain,” I started. How am I going to explain? I thought, mentally cursing Barnabas. This was the second time he had changed people’s memories, only to have them return enough to complicate my life. It probably came from his previous habit of save-the-human-then-split. He never had to deal with people remembering the lies he told them to believe.
But my dad didn’t appear to be upset as he rinsed out his glass. “She called me at work. Something about making sure you had a permit to park in the school lot,” he said, sounding amused as he worked the taps. “I told her you didn’t have a car, and she got confused. But in any case, she wanted to talk to me about a fund-raiser.”
“Oh,” I said, relaxing. Behind him, Nakita’s eyes were a steady blue. If they had gone silver, she would have been doing damage control. Whatever Barnabas had done was apparently holding. “Well, I guess we don’t have to worry about a car, huh?” I said sourly, and he sighed. I’d been moaning about my car being down in Florida since I got here, and his answer was always the same: “Not yet.”
But this time, instead of giving his pat answer, he turned to me with worried eyes and asked, “Madison, is everything okay?”
I could hear Josh thumping down the stairs, and I nodded, shoving the drying towel over the rack when I realized I was winding it about my fingers. “Trust me, Dad,” I said, with what I hoped was the right amount of annoyance and sincerity as I walked backward to the hallway, snagging Nakita on the way. “I like it here. I’m not going to screw it up. I have friends now and everything. Even if I don’t have a car.”
His attention flicked to Nakita, and, smiling, he said, “Just promise you’ll tell me if you need to talk. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s broken.”
It was too close to what I really wanted—to come clean and ask his advice. But what I did was yank the class supply list from the fridge and mutter, “It’s just normal teen stuff.”
“‘Normal’ and ‘teen’ don’t go together,” he said, and I edged to the archway to the hall. “Call your mom tonight, okay?” he added when Nakita slipped out before me. “She called this afternoon, wanting to talk to you. Right during school hours. I told her you can’t have a phone on in school and to calm down, but you know your mom.”
His voice held an old frustration, and I halted in the archway, watching him relive the past. I, though, was a little more concerned with the present. My mother was a thousand miles away, and her trouble radar was still working. “I’ll call her. And thanks for letting Nakita spend the night.”
“I don’t know how I let you talk me into stuff like this,” he grumped as he turned to the sink and rolled up his sleeves.