Early to Death, Early to Rise - Kim Harrison [71]
“These were brand-new!” my dad complained loudly, shaking them.
“Jeez, Dad…” I complained, proud of myself that I hadn’t panicked. Much. “Didn’t you ever wear cutoff jeans?”
Shoulders slumping, he looked at my fingernails, seeing the black nails that I’d been wearing to help Nakita blend in, his gaze lingering on the two red nails I’d half painted. “Torn tights and a lab coat? Wearing shoes without laces? I’ll never understand your fashion sense.”
I leaned over to look at my yellow sneakers. It isn’t fashion sense; it’s fallout, I thought dryly.
“But at least I know you’re eating,” he added, his attention going back to the ketchup-splattered lab coat. “How about skipping the after-school snacks for a while and eating at home?”
“Okay.” I stretched, hoping he wouldn’t look into my bathroom, where my torn shirt lay on the floor. That would be very hard to explain. I felt pretty good, but food was the last thing on my mind. Especially when my dad sat on the edge of the bed beside me and pointedly set my phone on the nightstand.
Crap. I’d forgotten to call Mom.
“Anything you want to tell me?” he asked, looking at it.
“Sorry. I forgot to call Mom,” I said immediately, but his frown deepened, telling me that wasn’t it. Clueless, I fiddled with my comforter, glad I’d changed into my nightgown last night after Barnabas had dropped me off, even if it had put my torn tights and Marty’s lab coat on my dad’s radar. “Is something wrong?” I asked hesitantly.
Is something wrong? I actually asked, “Is something wrong”? Can I sound any guiltier?
My dad waited until I looked at him. “I got a strange call this morning. Some guy named Sneaker.”
“Shoe!” I blurted before I remembered to shut my mouth. For crying out loud. And I’d told Shoe to be good when I couldn’t go five minutes without lying to my dad?
“Shoe?” my dad echoed, touching the phone to make it exactly square with the corner of the nightstand. “You know him?”
“Uh, yes.” I shrugged, trying to look like I didn’t care. “But I never gave him the house number.” Barnabas? I thought. Had he gone to see Shoe last night and tried to change his memories? Son of a dead puppy.
“Pen pal?” I tried, working to keep the question from my voice, but it sneaked in there somehow.
My dad made an unconvincing sound. “He wanted me to tell you he’s suspended and that he is, and I quote, ‘being good.’” His eyebrows high, he waited for an explanation.
“Really?” What else could I say? I couldn’t look at him, and I fidgeted in the silence.
“Madison…” he started, and I threw the covers back to get out of bed on the other side.
“Dad, I gotta go,” I blurted, reaching for my robe just inside my bathroom. The sight of my torn shirt met me, and I yanked the door shut. “I’m late for school and I have to take a shower. I don’t know why Shoe said that weird stuff. He’s just a guy I met a while ago.”
Like last night, a while ago, but it was a while ago.
Exhaling slowly and long, my dad stood. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said, sounding disappointed. “What do you want for dinner tonight?”
I hesitated, thinking what I could hide in my pockets the easiest. “Soup and fries,” I said, imagining that I could down soup easily enough. And I had really enjoyed the fries last night. If I could save Ace’s life, I could eat a couple.
My dad’s expression screwed up. “Soup and fries?” he echoed, then sighed. “If that’s what you want. Breakfast is ready. Don’t be long.”
“I won’t,” I said, thinking that if I waited until the last moment to come down, I could run out the door with a piece of toast to give to Sandy. Smiling, I waved to my dad when he stood in the hall, and I shut the door. I mentally kicked myself as I listened to his steps clump down the stairs. I’d waved to him? I was so stupid!
I hadn’t been lying about wanting to take a shower, and, still worried, I went into my bathroom to get the water started as I wiggled out of my pj’s. A soft tap on my bathroom door made me snatch a towel, and I called through the door,