even hated her name. It wasn’t cool like Dixie’s or her other friends’ in Boston or Philly. Mom had always told her it was lovely, graceful, and she’d grow into it, but Amanda hadn’t heard those words in a long time. Her dad wasn’t much of a talker. And when he did...
Yanking the covers up to her neck, she lay shaking in the dark.
I’m the adult here. You’re the kid.
Why feel surprised that she had absolutely no power?
Your grades should be important to you.
But why? It wasn’t as if she’d ever need any of the dumb things they tried to teach in school. Dixie said they wouldn’t. Like those boring job talks in Aunt Bron’s class. Amanda didn’t plan to become a ball player or a cop or a...lawyer.
She bit her lip. She didn’t want to think about bad stuff anymore.
Or about her dad.
Yet the stubborn memories kept coming. Josh had been only three when their mother took off. In sixth grade then, Amanda had been just getting used to having him around and was glad he’d finally stopped wearing diapers and sucking on a bottle.
Her father, of course, had been at work that day. He’d had a big-deal job then.
Amanda pinched herself for wanting to cry.
Even Josh didn’t cry much now. She wondered if he remembered Mom, which only left Amanda feeling more alone. She remembered everything about her, even the shadows in her eyes right before she left.
In the dark she turned over, off the old doll, which glared up at her with its one remaining black eye. She groped across her nightstand for the snapshot in a porcelain frame with roses around it. Amanda ran a finger over the raised flowers, the cool glass. She didn’t have to actually see the picture. Josh might forget, but she never would. She’d always remember her mom’s soft blond hair. And her eyes would always be the exact same color as the blue in her favorite dishes, and her smile...
Dad hardly ever smiled anymore.
When he did, he smiled at Josh. He was always trying to reassure him.
Setting the picture down, she rolled on to her side, facing the wall. She couldn’t bear to open the photo album tonight.
Fresh tears welled in her eyes. She huddled under the lavender eyelet comforter her mother had helped her pick out when they moved to Boston—like the white wicker nightstand and her dresser—but she couldn’t get warm. She thought of her dad’s Uncle Theo, who still lived in Philadelphia. He didn’t have anyone now, and she missed him, too.
“Mandi?” Whispering, Josh stood at her door. She always kept it half-open in case he needed her. “What’samatter?”
Wiping her wet cheeks, she said, “Nothing. Go back to your room. You want Dad to wake up? He’ll put you in time-out.”
A brief silence made her feel ashamed. Mean.
“Daddy never puts me in time-out.”
She frowned at his small frame backlit by the hallway light. “Well, he’ll want to anyway.”
“No,” Josh said in the doorway. “He loves me.”
You’re both my first priority. Amanda couldn’t believe that, not after he’d accused her of stealing. Blinking, she waited until Josh went back to his room, his bare feet dancing to avoid touching the floor.
Her throat ached, and no matter how much she swallowed, it kept hurting. The tears slid down her face, dripped into her ears and on to her pillow. No wonder he liked Josh better.
No wonder he didn’t smile at her. He only pays attention to me when I’m bad. And even then, what happens? Nothing.
That scared her most of all, as if she were a runaway train, and he wasn’t trying to stop her. He hadn’t stopped Mom, either.
She dragged the giraffe back into her arms and held on tight, her stupid tears wetting its baby-stupid face.
* * *
GRIFFIN TOOK A deep breath and rang the doorbell again. From inside he could hear raised voices, one male, one female.
He hesitated. Try the bell once more? Give up? Or open the door himself?
The Cabots rarely locked their doors.
Griffin opted for the third choice. He couldn’t wait all day. He needed to pick up Josh at school soon. He’d make his apology, then go.
“Hello?” he called out. “Jack? Kate?”
Voices, louder than before, came from the kitchen, but he couldn’t make out their words.
Griffin had started to edge back toward the door when Jack suddenly appeared, his face as red as Santa Claus’s suit. “Griffin,” he said, obviously surprised to see him standing there.
“Sorry. I did ring the bell. I’ll just...”
“No, come on in.” Jack turned to call over his shoulder, “Honey, Griffin’s here. Any coffee left?”
Whatever their quarrel had been about, it was over now, at least for Jack.
Griffin fingered the beaded watch in his pocket.
“No coffee for me, thanks. I was wondering... Is Sunny around?”
Jack turned and rapped on the door to the den. Then he made small talk as if nothing was wrong, inviting Griffin to a cookout the next weekend. “Bring the kids, too, of course,” Jack finished just as Sunny stepped into the room.
She was wearing ankle-length jeans with a white top that had little ruffles around the neck. Her feet were bare, and Griffin could see her stylish red pedicure. Her eyes, however, had turned icy.
“Oh. Mr. Lattimer.”
Jack glanced from one to the other, trying, Griffin supposed, to size up this new problem.
“I’ll make myself scarce,” her father murmured.
Griffin could hear sniffles coming from the kitchen. Kate was apparently taking it hard. Unusual, he thought, because Jack was normally easygoing.
Months ago Amanda had “adopted” Kate—who was always ready with a hug—as a surrogate grandmother. Josh loved to cuddle on her lap, and both his kids roared at Jack’s silly jokes. Griffin and his children had spent quite a few Sunday afternoons here, always a pleasant break from the apartment and the endless stream of renter complaints.
Sunny sighed. “I imagine you heard,” she said. “I’ve been hiding in the den. It’s the third time since I got home.”
“Speaking of disagreements...” Might as well get this over with. Griffin pulled the watch out of his pocket. “Amanda had this on her dresser. In plain sight,” he said, a fact that had been bothering him since last night. “I should have investigated first,
