Page 160 of The Glass Girl

He pulls away from me, making boxerlike jabs at my midsection. I duck out of the way.

“She can’t go back for like a week,” Ricci tells him. “She has to stay at home and do her homework,andshe’s going to summer school, which sounds unfair.”

“Ah, you can make up that work, Bella,” my dad says, walking into the kitchen. “I know you. You can put your mind to it, get it done, and then voilà, a summer of freedom.”

“I don’t really mind,” I say. “I’d rather not stress out aboutit.”

I go into the room I share with Ricci and put my backpack on the floor. The room is a mess, Ricci’s clothes all over from the last time she was here. I guess Dad hasn’t done laundry, but what else is new? Probably some things are never going to change. I gather Ricci’s stuff into a pile in my arms and take it into the living room, looking for the laundry basket.

“Hey,” my dad says. “What are you doing? Put that down. No work! It’s Friday night. I’ve got a pizza on the way, soda’s in the fridge. Who’s up for a movie?”

“Me!” Ricci shouts.

“I should get these in the wash,” I say.

“Put them down, Bella,” my dad says. “I’ll do them tomorrow. I’ll get to it. Don’t be silly.”

There’s a little edge to his voice. I take the clothes back to our room and put them in a pile in the corner. I look around again.

Clothes on the floor and hanging off my desk chair. Ricci’s crayons everywhere. I don’t think he’s changed the sheets since I was here that last time.

My brain:Well, you should clean everything up. Make it nice and neat. You’ll feel more comfortable.

Me:I kind of wished he’d cleaned up so I wouldn’t have to. I don’t mind cleaning, but not all the time. I shouldn’t have to do it all the time. Why can’t he clean when we aren’t here?

I force myself not to pick anything up.

Breathe, Bella, breathe.

I come back out. He’s handing Ricci a Sprite. It’s then that I see it.

A beer bottle on the counter.

Actually, two. And a few in the sink.

I swallow.

“What?” my dad says. He glances back at the kitchen, at the bottles. “Oh, right. It’s Friday and I’m in for the night with my girls.”

“I just thought…that you wouldn’t have any here. Mom doesn’t have anything in her house.” My voice is quavery.

“Well, that’s your mom’s house and this is mine. Hey, you look a lot leaner. Have I told you that? It looks good on you. Now if we could just do something about that raccoon-eye thing you have going on.”

He spreads his fingers across his eyes, like he’s making a mask.

“We exercised a lot at rehab. You know, where I was for a drinking problem.”

I let my eyes slide to the beer bottles.

The smile dies on my dad’s face. He winces.

“I really don’t like that word,” he says. “Rehab.Like you’re a house that needs work. You’re fifteen, not fifty, you know?”

There’s a tentative knock on the door.

“Ah!” my dad says. He clears his throat. “That would be Vanessa.”

I stare at the door as he brushes past me to open it. I thought Vanessa was gone. I thought Ricci said that on the phone when I was in Seg.

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