Free Sacred by Elana K. Arnold

to smile back at Daddy. “Do you want something to drink?”
    “I’ll get the drinks.” Daddy practically jumped up. “You did all the slaving over a hot stove; I can get us a few drinks. Scar, you want a glass of milk?”
    The idea of pouring a full glass of milk down my throat on top of a meal of overcooked fish and rice sounded absolutely horrifying. “Just water.”
    “Liv?” He turned to my mom. She looked startled, as if it took her a moment to realize that he was saying her name—Liv, short for Olivia—and not asking her if she intended to continue her existence.
    “Just water, John.” Her voice was tremulous.
    “Three waters it is.” He was trying too hard. Sometimes I did that too, at these terrible dinners—sometimes I tried too hard, complimenting the food, telling stories about the barn, asking about business at the B&B—and sometimes I could barely manage to force myself to stay at the table. Either way, it didn’t seem to make much difference. The evenings always ended up much the same—the three of us pushed the food around on our plates for ten minutes or so, and then Mom would mumble something about finishing the laundry or paying the bills and she’d wander off to her bedroom while Daddy offered to help with the dishes and I’d refuse, and he’d go out to the porch to finish his crossword and I’d dump the largely uneaten food from the plates into the sink, the disposal masticating it better than we ever could.
    When Daddy returned with our waters, we began the charade.
    “So, how was the first day of school?” he asked me in a loud, enthusiastic voice.
    Mom’s eyes, which had been gazing off into middle distance somewhere over my left ear, managed to focus on me.After a moment she said, “Oh, that’s right. You started back up today. How did it go?”
    I didn’t believe that either of them was really invested in hearing about the mundane details of my high school existence, but it was my turn now, and I wasn’t one to miss my cue.
    “Fine. Lily showed up in this insane leather outfit. She and I have two classes together, which will be great because she needs my help if she thinks she’s going to pass French this year, and probably the best part is that I don’t have to take PE anymore, now that I’m an upperclassman.”
    Somewhere in the middle of my monologue, Mom’s gaze had shifted again. I turned my head to see what she was looking at; her eyes seemed to be focused on a completely unremarkable section of cabinetry.
    “Did you meet the new kid, the Cohen boy?”
    Daddy’s question snapped my head back around. He seemed nonchalant enough; with more bravado than I could muster, he was scooping a large forkful of the salmon-rice mush and preparing to actually ingest it.
    “Uh … yeah. Will, I think. He’s a senior. We have a class together, actually … Drama.”
    Daddy nodded. “I’m sure you’ll help him to feel right at home. Aren’t you going to eat your dinner?”
    My fork still lay next to my plate of untouched food. I picked it up and tried to separate out a mouthful of plain rice from the fish and the sauce.
    “Will’s dad called over here while you were out at the stable,” Daddy went on, bravely stabbing a large flake of fish.
    I coughed, shooting out half of the rice grains I had managed to salvage from the fish mess. “What did he want?” I choked out.
    “Well, they live way over at the Isthmus, and the Cohen boy doesn’t have a car. His father—a professor, isn’t that nice—thought that maybe his son might want to rent a room from us here in town every now and again. You know, on nights when he might need to stay late for an activity or a study group or whatnot. That way he won’t always have to rush to catch the bus or have his dad pick him up.” Daddy coughed. “He made it pretty clear that he didn’t want his son to make a regular habit of staying over here. He said something pretty peculiar … that Will was safer over at the