Page 70 of This I Know
I can tell she doesn’t want to talk about this, so my mouth stays shut.
“Sorry,” Mara says again to Avery, and this time she sounds genuine. She repositions herself on the couch, pulling her legs under her.
Avery turns to me privately. “I’m not hiding anything.”
I smile and nudge her playfully, but her words make me cringe.I’m not hiding anything either, Avery. IwishI wasn’t hiding anything. Soon, I won’t be hiding anything.
“Kids,” a voice sings from the kitchen. “Food’s ready.”
Mara clicks off the TV. I help Avery up, and when she rises she lets my hand slip out of hers, following Mara into the kitchen. We take our seats and Mrs. Kramer goes above and beyond, serving us each individually a meal of turkey, mashed potatoes, and corn on the cob.
“There’s bread right here,” Mrs. Kramer says as she takes her seat. “I hope you don’t mind that we’re pretending it’s Thanksgiving.” She scoots her chair in with both hands, and the legs make a grating noise against the floor. “We enjoy the festive food so much that we like to do that around here.”
Mara gives us both the crazy look.
“Not at all,” Avery says. “I love it, too.”
“Turkey’s my favorite,” I add pathetically.
“So how are you kids enjoying the school year?” Mr. Kramer asks. He’s cutting up his meat and piling it into his mouth.
“Dad, they don’t want to talk about–”
“Ethan. You look familiar.” He wags his fork in my direction.
My grip on my corn on the cob tightens. “I, uh– I used to play football for my last school. I was pretty good.”
“No, no, that’s not it. What’s your last name?”
Oh, God. I have to tell him. I have to. I can’t make something up in front of Avery.
“Harrington,” I say, clear as day, because why not.
Mr. and Mrs. Kramer’s silverware clangs against their plates at the same time. They look at each other.
I’m in trouble.
Mr. Kramer places his elbows on the table. He clasps his hands and looks straight at me. I don’t dare take another bite with that look he’s giving me. Mara and Avery continue eating, sensing the tension, I’m sure, but wisely choosing not to contribute. After a moment, he leans back. He plays with a white fabric napkin hanging off the edge of the table.
“And have you lived around here long?” he asks.
I put my corn down and wipe my mouth. “My whole life,” I answer honestly.
“You don’t say,” Mr. Kramer says. His voice is slow, and almost as steady as his gaze.
He’s thinking about me.
But he’s not just thinking about me; he might be thinking about my father, too. It’s hard to tell.
He raises a brow.
He definitely knows something. He’sgotto know something. But what?
It was a mistake to come here. I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy to resume a normal life.Stupid, Ethan. Stupid, stupid.
I turn my head to Mrs. Kramer, trying to gauge whether or not she’s picking any of this up. For all I know, she knows exactly what her husband knows. She could have been talking with him about me in the kitchen. And if they spill what they know, everything I’ve just started with Avery could be over, just like that, in the blink of an eye.
I’m sorry, Avery,I think into my plate, preparing myself.I was going to tell you. I promise I was.
