407.

Here it comes. Cold, bitter panic, rising up like stomach acid did just this morning.

"What do you mean?"

He pauses. Kisses me gently.

I'm scared for you, Kaeleigh.

You're losing weight. And, are --.

don't get mad --.

are you cutting?

Every instinct cries out to deny, deny, deny. "No, I..."

It might feel good to confess.

"Things are stressful right now."

The not-quite-confession riles the protector in him.

You can't cut, Kaeleigh. Please. If you need help, I'll find it for you.

"No!" No damn help, because they'd want to know the whys behind what I do. "No. I'll be all right, as long as I have you."

Then you have to promise not to cut, and if you think you have to, you'll call.

He kisses the promise out of me.

408.

Almost Home Ian cruises slowly up the block.

I want to tell him, "Keep going."

And going. I know it's impossible, but how amazing it would be to just keep driving until we found somewhere safe for the two of us to settle down, merge into one.

As we pass Hannah's, I happen to notice the front door swing open. Just inside is a familiar form, standing very close to Hannah. (Just like in the kitchen.) The thought makes my skin crawl. And then he bends to kiss her. (Just like in the kitchen.) **

Before I can twist my head away, dig it into Ian's back, Daddy turns, preparing to leave. And our eyes meet in a moment of mutual, instantaneous recognition. He knows who it is beneath this helmet. And I know how he has spent this frigid afternoon.

409.

The House Is Crazy With activity. Odd, to see Mom so animated, here at home, so much more the way she used to be.

Holding court in the living room, she gives directions regally. Wonder if she notices her nose, tilted so far skyward.

Delivery guys move furniture, set up chairs, a buffet table.

Maids-for-a-day vacuum, dust, wash windows, scrub floors.

Some rental place sets up a wall-sized flat-screen TV.

If all this energy would focus on the polls, Mom couldn't lose.

Daddy isn't far behind me through the door. Despite a house full of witnesses, his hands pounce on my shoulders, spin me to face him.

Haven't I told you no rides with young drivers?

And who was that, anyway?

410.

Spit Pools At the corners of his mouth, and his eyes betray insanity.

If we were alone, I'd be frantic with fear. But we're not. And I hold an amazing trump card. I yank myself from Daddy's grasp.

"That was Ian. I'm sure it means nothing to you, but he and I have been friends forever.

That's right, Daddy. I do have a friend or two, despite you."

His pupils go black with rage.

But suddenly I feel brave, in control. It probably won't last long, but for once, I've got as much power as he does.

The house quiets as I continue my taunting monologue. "Of course, we're not nearly as good friends as you and Hannah seem to be."

Think I went too far. He's flat trembling with fury. And I know if he could get away with it, he'd reward me with the back of his hand.

411.

T.

411.

Raeanne Holy Effing Moly What got into Kaeleigh?

Has she totally lost her mind?

Still, the (not real high) estimation I hold for her just rose a notch or two.

Kaeleigh retreats as Mom snaps out of her state of shock, hustles Daddy back into their bedroom.

The shouting match seems to take forever to fire up, but when it does, it's a doozer. Even from here, my ears are ringing. The cleaning crew ignores the hoopla, returns to work in a matter of seconds. But the delivery dudes seem completely unable to move stuff without direction.

I decide to take matters into my own hands. "Ahem. Can you please put that table over there, under the window?" Beyond the glass, autumn leaves are trembling in the November wind. It's all going to tumble down soon.

And I'm ready to give it a hand.

412.

The Afternoon's Drama Sent us all to our separate corners.

[in the print book each section below is in separate corner of the page]

Daddy's holed up in his bedroom, shacking up with his deadly duo, but no Hannah **

Kaeleigh waited for them to fall silent, sneaked to the kitchen, yacked down five hot dogs.

Mom crawled off to the guest room, telephone in one hand, wine bottle (two) in the other.

Watching her made me go puke up my Lean Cuisine. Then I put in a phone call to Mick. I need bud.

413.

He Picked Up With some trepidation.

Caller ID totally busted me.

Uh, hi. Uh...I should tell you, me and Madison are a thing again.

"I know. I don't want to hurt your relationship...." Oh no, not at all! "It's just I really need to get my head. Please? I'll make it worth your while."

The greed factor works every time.

Oh. Okay, just so you know. You know?

Was I ever really with this guy?

"Hey, no problem. I promise to be the perfect lady." Just stoned.

Give me fifteen minutes. But hey.

Promise not to tell Mad, okay?

Fuck. Whatever. I made my voice real sweet. "Oh, I'd never do that.

But I do miss...oh, you know.

It was always so good with you."

He's on his way. And I'm ...

414.

Out the Window Cutting through the sea of fog like an orca on the hunt.

I don't have to wait long before headlights find me in the mist.

I climb up into the Avalanche, dive immediately under the seat **

without even saying hi. Not nice.

I find the tray, start to roll. "Hi."

Mick looks at me, laughs.

Okay, then. So where to?