Free Center of Gravity by Laura McNeill Page B

sure you realize that.” He interlocks his fingers, puts his elbows on his knees, and stares at my face.
    â€œYes.” No sense in lying, though this morning I’d like to fake a vomit-fest. Or have fire trucks scream by at ninety miles an hour.
    â€œYou’re not a baby anymore, Jack. So I’ll give it to you straight. Sometimes parents argue. They disagree about things. And that’s okay.” He sighs. “But when you work hard, take good care of your family, and love your children and wife as much as I do, it hurts when one person isn’t telling the truth.”
    I sit up straight. He means Ava. Sucker punch. My gut contracts. The room turns like a Tilt-A-Whirl ride at the state fair.
    Dad reads my brain waves. “It’s a huge blow. I’m horribly disappointed.”
    He keeps talking. I stop listening. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to start over. I don’t want anything to change.
    Our hero, Harry Potter, at this point in the story, would receive a mysterious envelope. An invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The answer to his dreams! But when his evil uncle finds out, he does everything to stop Harry, including hiding him at sea.
    In the book, half giant Rubeus Hagrid storms their rickety shack in the middle of the ocean for a dramatic rescue. Harry heads off to Hogwarts, makes friends, and finds an invisibility cloak along the way. How cool is that?
    Of course, he’s in trouble every other day, a dead girl follows him, he deals with drooling three-headed dogs, a huge snake, and You-Know-Who. Oh yeah. That’s the person who’s trying to kill him. But he’s got magic on his side. What I wouldn’t give to be Harry Potter right now.
    â€œI’m sorry.” My dad grips my shoulder and yanks me back to Mobile, Alabama. He stands up, brushes at an imaginary wrinkle on his pants. “The truth can be tough to take. There’s a line that’s been crossed.”
    I see his suitcase then. Packed full.
    â€œYou’re leaving again?” Shock courses through me like I’ve stuck my finger in an outlet.
    He meets my eyes. “For now, yes. I’ll be nearby.” Dad tells me an address. Explains it has something to do with the college, but I don’t want to hear it.
    All of a sudden, I’m furious and freak out. “No. Fix it. Both of you apologize. Make her happy. No one has to leave.” I’m crying. Big, blubbery tears wet my cheeks, drip on my shirt.
    Dad reels back, off guard. He blinks at my outburst. For once, there’s no snappy comeback, no words of wisdom, no rehearsed, perfect answer. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Rakes his fingers through his hair. Turns around and leaves. A door opens and closes. Footsteps.
    The Range Rover’s engine rumbles to life. I race to the window. Taillights snake from the garage and swing out of sight. He thinks I’m taking Ava’s side. My body shakes like a winter’s wind has whipped my bare skin. My knees buckle. I press a hand to the window, my fingers wide. But he’s gone.

CHAPTER 15
    AVA
    TUESDAY, MARCH 30
    I must be desperate. I’m calling my mother for advice. She answers before I can leave Sam’s bedroom.
    â€œAva, is that you?” Her tone arches with a smidge of concern.
    â€œYes,” I whisper back. As I place the phone between my ear and shoulder, I pull the cover over his legs, turn on the baby monitor, and tiptoe from the room.
    â€œDarling,” Mama says. “Your throat sounds scratchy. Make yourself some tea with honey.”
    All at once I’m twelve again, knobby-kneed and awkward, anxious to please. Stop it , I tell myself and sit down in the kitchen. I watch the red lights on the small, square receiver travel back and forth with Sam’s breathing, the motion of a pendulum.
    â€œHow are you?” I stall and wipe down the counter until it shines in the sunlight.
    Mama