Page 91 of The Otherworld

Mom shakes her head. “He said they met briefly yesterday before you flew out to pick him up.”

“That’s all he said?”

“Mm-hmm. Why? Did something happen?”

“Well, kind of. I guess it didn’t matter much to Adam, since he didn’t even mention it.” I grunt into my coffee. “Long story short, Orca’s dad has forbidden me or Adam from ever contacting his daughter again. He’s just as crazy as I imagined.”

Mom pulls a carton of eggs out of the fridge, swings the door shut with her hip. “He sounds very protective of his daughter. I don’t know if I’d call him crazy.”

“You would if you met him. The guy’s, like, the strictest parent of all time.” I sigh, sitting down at the table and propping my feet up on the seat of another chair. “He doesn’t want Orca to have any friends. Which is ridiculous, because technically she’s an adult. She should be allowed to make her own decisions.”

Mom shrugs, swirling butter in the skillet. “I’m sure she does.”

“No, she doesn’t. That’s my point. I’ve talked to her, and I know the kind of crap she has to put up with from her dad. He’s a dick.”

Mom clicks her tongue disapprovingly just as Adam walks into the kitchen, his hair damp from the shower. “Who’s a dick?” he asks.

“Please,” Mom says.

“Orca’s dad—and don’t take his side.”

“I don’t take sides, first of all,” Adam argues, stopping to kiss Mom on the cheek.

She drops everything to wrap her arms around him and hug him tight. “I’m so happy you’re home, sweetheart.”

He rubs her back and murmurs to the top of her head, “It’s good to be home, Mom.” When the homecoming hugfest is over, Adam crosses the room to pour himself a cup of coffee. “Jack, I’m not trying to defend Orca’s father. I’m trying to objectively observe the facts and come to an unbiased conclusion.”

I roll my eyes. “Here are the facts: Orca’s father has brainwashed her into thinking she’s some frail little girl who can’t handle the real world. Did she tell you that?”

Adam takes a seat across from me. “Yes, and I told her that wasn’t true. She’s way tougher than she looks.”

“Yeah, see? You agree, then—her dad’s mental.”

“He’s not mental.”

“What do you call locking your daughter away on an island and forbidding her from having friends—totally normal behavior?”

Adam sighs and sips his coffee, a comeback on its way. I turn to Mom before he can answer.

“Mom, you think that’s normal behavior?”

Mom chuckles under her breath, ladling pancake batter onto the skillet. “No, it’s obviously not something you see every day—”

“But that doesn’t make it wrong,” Adam interjects, taking the lunatic’s side. “He just wants a different kind of lifestyle.”

“Yeah, well, Orca doesn’t want that lifestyle.”

“I know. I’ve talked to her, too.” Adam’s voice gets a defensive edge, like he knows Orca better than I do. Maybe he does. He’s spent days with her, while I’ve only talked to her over the phone.

“And what did she tell you?” I challenge, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Probably the same thing she told you. Her father doesn’t want her to go to the mainland, and he’s always told her it’s because the world is… a scary place, more or less.”

“Yeah, which is bullshit—”

“Not necessarily. He has a point. And he wants to protect her.”

“Prisons also protect people,” I point out, at which Adam gives me an unamused scowl. “See? You’re annoyed ’cause I’m right. She’s a prisoner on that island for her own ‘protection.’”

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