Page 39 of Don't Say a Word
“It hasn’t been canceled. But if you want to stay home—”
“No, I’m okay, I just want to know what happened.”
“Please come home, Gina. It won’t take you longer than ten minutes. Eleven minutes and you’re grounded.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I love you,” she said and hung up.
Gina turned to Angie. “I gotta—”
“I know.” Angie hugged her best friend and got out of the car. Gina drove away, and Angie glanced down at her phone when it vibrated.
It was Andy again, in their group chat with Peter.
A, you didn’t go to school today but my little sister said she saw you.
Angie told him she went to the volleyball game. Then said,I talked to Mrs. Clark right before I left. A PI is investigating Elijah’s death.
Andy said:Really?
She responded.Yeah. I’m going to talk to her.
Andy:Elijah was acting weird the last couple weeks.
Angie didn’t want to get into this conversation, especially over text.We’ll talk tomorrow.
She pocketed her phone and walked slowly to her door. She didn’t want to go home, but where could she go? After a long minute, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. Her mom and Bruce were slouched on the couch in front of the television, the stench of marijuana heavy in the small dark apartment.
“You’re not supposed to smoke in the apartment,” Angie said.
“Fuck you,” Bruce said.
Her mother hit him. “Don’t swear at my daughter. Angie, where were you so late?”
“Gina’s.”
“You could have called.”
“You don’t usually care.”
“I always care! Oh, my God, you think I don’t care about my own daughter?”
Clearly, her mother was stonedanddrunk. If she was just stoned, she would just say hey and Angie would go to her room and that would be that. But Lori was an emotional drunk. Everything was over-the-top when Lori had been drinking. As if to confirm the fact, Angie saw a near-empty bottle of vodka on the counter.
“You made your mother cry,” Bruce said. “Apologize.”
Bruce was a mean drunk. Not to Lori though. He draped his arm around Lori’s thin shoulders as she started to cry.
Angie quickly weighed her options. Bruce had never hit her, but he did break things, and her mom would blame her. She didn’t want drama tonight.
“Sorry,” she said. She walked to her room and closed the door.
Her room smelled of residual pot, so she opened the small barred window to air out the space, relieved that the temperatures had fallen and there was a light breeze. She lit a lavender candle and sat at her desk.
She heard Bruce and Lori talking, but not what they said. Then they were walking down the hall together, bumping into the walls, and her mother giggled. Their bedroom door closed, but Angie could hear everything—the groaning and giggling and loud sex talk, as if Bruce wanted her to hear everything.
She put on her headphones and turned up her music loud enough to drown them out.
