Page 71 of This I Know
Oh, stop being so dramatic. You’re verging on the paranoid fence, too. This is dangerous ground.Stop it.
I try to keep my face clear of all expression that could give away my panic. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, but I try to act normal. I pick my corn back up and bite down hard.
Mr. Kramer does the same, and for a minute I think I’m in the clear.
“What do your parents do?” he asks when he’s finished chewing. Mrs. Kramer tries to hide her face behind the napkin she’s holding to her mouth.
Nope. I guess I’m not in the clear. I’m in the complete opposite of the clear. I’m in deep trouble.
I don’t even bother finishing the bite I just started to take. “My mom’s a nurse,” I answer. “She works quite a bit. I usually don’t get to see her much during the week.”
That’s it. Good job. Keep acting like your heart isn’t racing a hundred miles an hour, like it doesn’t feel as if they’re holding the reins to your life right now. Maybe they won’t ever tell.
“And what about your dad?” he says. There’s not a hint of shame in his voice about calling me out like this.
Bastard.
I set my napkin on my lap. “He’s not really in the picture anymore.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Mrs. Kramer interrupts. “That’s so common these days. Isn’t it, Bill?” I hear the rustle of her nudging her husband under the table.
“Yes, yes. It’s common.”
Mara finally speaks up from her plate of food. It’s about time. “Mom,” she says. “Can we talk about something else?”
Mara’s mom shrugs. “Well, honey, your father brought this up, not me.”
Bill shrugs, too. I’m starting to get why Mara might have wanted us here; to divert some of this uncomfortable behavior off of her. And by now, I’ve realized it was a bad idea to accept such an invitation.
Poor Avery. Judging from her simple behavior, as she sits there innocently, eating and watching, she probably knows something up but hasn’t a clue what’s going on. And why should she? Unless she’s happened to read the same newspaper article I’m assuming Mr. and Mrs. Kramer have, I don’t think there’s any other hint about my father floating around out there. We’ve done a good job of keeping it under wraps and away from the media. But apparently, not good enough.
The pressissupposed to keep this a secret, you know. It’s not like you can just go around publishing the names of the relatives of serial killers without their permission. So as a matter of fact, I’d like to get my hands on whatever it appears they’ve seen that’s given me away.
“It’s always harder when you’re close,” Bill says. He grabs the handle of an oversized spoon and plops more mashed potatoes onto his plate. “Are you close with him?”
“Dad,” says Mara. She glares at him in exasperation. “If you two don’t knock it off, we’re about to leave here and go to Dairy Queen.”
Avery laughs. “Dairy Queen?”
“Well, you know … somewhere other than here with these two.” She lowers her chin and says defensively, “It’s just down the road.”
“Now Mara,” her mom says, “we’re just trying to have a conversation with the boy.”
“How about trying out a conversation with Avery? You already know her. She’ll be harder to scare away.”
Mrs. Kramer disregards the attitude she’s getting from Mara. “Avery, dear,” she says, “how are things going?” She passes me a dish. “We haven’t seen you for a while. Since it happened, I think.”
Oh, God. So this is what this dinner is going to be? A string of endless conversation about Avery’s attack, and attempts by me to dodge bullets. Dairy Queen sounds pretty good right about now.
Avery, though, doesn’t seem the least put off by it. She’s strong. I’m sure she’s been asked questions just like that a hundred times by now. And I’m sure she has some kind of mechanical answer in her mind, some polite but mindless response.
“I’m alright,” she says after she wipes the corners of her mouth.
“How about your mother?”
“She’s holding up, too. We’re starting to get back in the swing of things.”
“Yes, I imagine school must have been hard for you,” Bill says. “To get back into, I mean. After everything that happened and all that time off.”
