Free Escape Velocity by Robin Stevenson Page B

hadn’t really thought of her in those terms. Grandmother . The word doesn’t fit easily with the picture of the straggly-haired woman.
    Justine’s dark eyebrows are raised. “I guess there are some places you could try. Shelters and stuff. But…”
    â€œIt’s a kind of a remote chance. I know.”
    â€œIf you knew her name, you could ask people if they’d seen her.”
    â€œI’ll try to find out,” I tell Justine, and my stomach tightens. I can’t imagine bringing the subject up again with Zoe.

Eleven
    W hen I get home, my mother is at her desk, staring at the computer screen. She swivels her chair around to face me. “How was school?”
    â€œFine.” I step closer and try to see what she is working on, but she has closed the window. “Are you writing?”
    She shrugs. “Not productively, no. All this…” She flaps her hand. “You, your father…”
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œYes. Well. Don’t you have homework or something?”
    She is sending out go-away vibes that are as real and unmistakable as hands pushing me out the door. Little signals zipping through the air: get lost get lost get lost. “I guess I’ll go to my room and read,” I say. “Can I call Dad?”
    â€œGo ahead. Good idea.”
    I can hear the relief in her voice. My own mother can’t stand having me near her. She can’t even be bothered to hide how she feels.
    The spare room—my room now—is cool and quiet. I lie down on the bed and wonder why my mother dislikes me so much. Sometimes I feel like even being in the same room as me is painful for her. Like she has severe allergies and I make her itch, give her hives, make her throat swell up. I blink a few times and push my fists against my eye sockets until I see green stars. Then I pick up the phone and call my father.
    He answers right away. “Hello?”
    â€œDad? How are you doing?”
    â€œAhh, Lou. I was gonna call you. Not doing so well, kiddo. The stent they put in? Remember? The tube thing?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI started having some chest pains again, getting short of breath.”
    â€œUh-huh?”
    â€œThey think it’s blocking. Looks like I’m going to be having bypass surgery tomorrow.”
    I roll over on the bed, lie on my back with a pillow clutched to my chest with my free arm. “Dad?” I don’t want to upset him, can’t let myself start to cry, but I’m scared. Except maybe for the moment watching him be helped into the ambulance, I’ve never been so scared.
    â€œListen. It’s going to be fine. They do lots of these operations here.”
    â€œOkay.” There’s a knife-sharp pain in my throat, and I can barely push the word past it.
    â€œYou’re scared, aren’t you? I’m sorry about this, kiddo.”
    I nod, even though obviously he can’t see me.
    â€œDon’t worry. Is it going okay with Zoe?”
    â€œYes. No.” I lower my voice. “She doesn’t like me.”
    â€œThat’s just how she is. She probably doesn’t know how to be with you.”
    â€œDad. She can’t stand me.” My voice is rising, and I don’t want to stress him out, but I can’t help myself. “Can’t I stay with Dana Leigh? Can you ask her?”
    â€œI can’t walk, I can’t do shit, Lou. I’m not going home anytime soon. If it was only a few days, maybe Dana Leigh could help out, but…”
    â€œShe said no, didn’t she? You already asked her.”
    He clears his throat. “Yeah. I asked her.”
    I bet it’s Trevor that doesn’t want me there. I wouldn’t expect Dana Leigh to put me first, ahead of him, but it still hurts that she’d say no. I sit up and stare at the stupid oil-spill painting. “I don’t think Zoe wants me here either,” I say.
    â€œTough,” Dad says.