was acting totes weird.”
Sadie pressed the grass in her palms so tight her fingers hurt.
“I just wanted to come over and make sure we were all … okay … you know. This doesn’t change anything with us …”
“Of course not.”
Amanda leaned over and gave Sadie a limp hug. She smelled like the rosemary and mint shampoo her mom bought in giant pump bottles.
“Do you think your sister is telling the truth?” Sadie yelled after her as she walked away.
She turned back and squinted, cocked her hip to one side. “Of fucking course she is. She’s a kid, Sadie. What kind of question is that?”
Sadie shrugged. “Last night you said that she lies about stuff.”
Amanda walked back and bent over so that she was eye to eye with both of them. She spoke a little softer. “I know that I said that, because it’s true, she’s a little shit sometimes. But I dunno. This morning she started crying at breakfast, like real crying, not for-attention crying.” She stood up again, and paused before she continued. “You better not spread any lies about her, just because it’s your dad. She’s been through enough.”
“We can’t know, though, Amanda, what’s real. You have to admit this is weird. You know my dad.”
“I know. It is weird. I have no idea who to fucking believe.”
They watched her walk away, not speaking until she was inside. Sadie’s mouth felt sour and dry at the same time, as though something was blocking her from breathing. She took a deep breath in and exhaled, hearing that she was indeed breathing, but it didn’t feel like it. She placed her hand on her neck, the spot where she felt her throat was closing.
“I’m going to go home to check in with my mother.”
Jimmy nodded. He grabbed her hand and they headed towards Jimmy’s car. Sadie put Elaine’s bike in the trunk, one tire sticking out, and they drove in silence, away from the school on the edge of town, curving around the lake until she was down the block from her house. They watched the media trucks as they idled, journalists sipping on coffee from the Hut — shorthand for the exhaustively named Country Cottage Fair Trade Ethical Coffee Hut, a few blocks away by the public beach, a place mostly known to residents. The owners, Pat and Alex, kept a spiral notebook with locals’ tabs scrawled in ballpoint so you could come and get a coffee if you didn’t feel like carrying your wallet on your morning jog. Pat and Alex loved her dad. Pat gave him free coffee all the time and every year Alex made him a cherry pie for his birthday.
Jimmy drummed his fingers on the dash until Sadie placed her hand on his to soothe him. They watched the neighbours out pretending to get their mail, or re-oiling the gates at the ends of their winding driveways. It made Sadie want to change the plan. She didn’t want to check in with her mom. They pulled up to the gate, which was blocked by a line of journalists who didn’t even react to their car’s presence because they were so entranced by the house in front of them.
SADIE AND JIMMY usually chose to hang out at the Woodbury house because its size and splendour allowed them to imagine they were alone most of the time. Sometimes they would sneak into Clara’s guest suite and pretend it was their own apartment. At that moment, as she looked at the house, with the journalists at the gate, she knew her family would be gathered in the kitchen. The house seemed to shrink before her eyes.
Jimmy beeped the horn, then laid on it. The reporters turned, flashbulbs popping. The neighbourhood had transformed from familiar haven to movie set, the same way the school had transformed on the day the man with the rifle walked through the door. Sadie had returned to being a spectacle again. She remembered standing on the front steps of the house when the reporters came after the school incident. She’d worn her favourite red terry cloth dress with the white plastic belt, and the perfect white Keds that all
Sadie pressed the grass in her palms so tight her fingers hurt.
“I just wanted to come over and make sure we were all … okay … you know. This doesn’t change anything with us …”
“Of course not.”
Amanda leaned over and gave Sadie a limp hug. She smelled like the rosemary and mint shampoo her mom bought in giant pump bottles.
“Do you think your sister is telling the truth?” Sadie yelled after her as she walked away.
She turned back and squinted, cocked her hip to one side. “Of fucking course she is. She’s a kid, Sadie. What kind of question is that?”
Sadie shrugged. “Last night you said that she lies about stuff.”
Amanda walked back and bent over so that she was eye to eye with both of them. She spoke a little softer. “I know that I said that, because it’s true, she’s a little shit sometimes. But I dunno. This morning she started crying at breakfast, like real crying, not for-attention crying.” She stood up again, and paused before she continued. “You better not spread any lies about her, just because it’s your dad. She’s been through enough.”
“We can’t know, though, Amanda, what’s real. You have to admit this is weird. You know my dad.”
“I know. It is weird. I have no idea who to fucking believe.”
They watched her walk away, not speaking until she was inside. Sadie’s mouth felt sour and dry at the same time, as though something was blocking her from breathing. She took a deep breath in and exhaled, hearing that she was indeed breathing, but it didn’t feel like it. She placed her hand on her neck, the spot where she felt her throat was closing.
“I’m going to go home to check in with my mother.”
Jimmy nodded. He grabbed her hand and they headed towards Jimmy’s car. Sadie put Elaine’s bike in the trunk, one tire sticking out, and they drove in silence, away from the school on the edge of town, curving around the lake until she was down the block from her house. They watched the media trucks as they idled, journalists sipping on coffee from the Hut — shorthand for the exhaustively named Country Cottage Fair Trade Ethical Coffee Hut, a few blocks away by the public beach, a place mostly known to residents. The owners, Pat and Alex, kept a spiral notebook with locals’ tabs scrawled in ballpoint so you could come and get a coffee if you didn’t feel like carrying your wallet on your morning jog. Pat and Alex loved her dad. Pat gave him free coffee all the time and every year Alex made him a cherry pie for his birthday.
Jimmy drummed his fingers on the dash until Sadie placed her hand on his to soothe him. They watched the neighbours out pretending to get their mail, or re-oiling the gates at the ends of their winding driveways. It made Sadie want to change the plan. She didn’t want to check in with her mom. They pulled up to the gate, which was blocked by a line of journalists who didn’t even react to their car’s presence because they were so entranced by the house in front of them.
SADIE AND JIMMY usually chose to hang out at the Woodbury house because its size and splendour allowed them to imagine they were alone most of the time. Sometimes they would sneak into Clara’s guest suite and pretend it was their own apartment. At that moment, as she looked at the house, with the journalists at the gate, she knew her family would be gathered in the kitchen. The house seemed to shrink before her eyes.
Jimmy beeped the horn, then laid on it. The reporters turned, flashbulbs popping. The neighbourhood had transformed from familiar haven to movie set, the same way the school had transformed on the day the man with the rifle walked through the door. Sadie had returned to being a spectacle again. She remembered standing on the front steps of the house when the reporters came after the school incident. She’d worn her favourite red terry cloth dress with the white plastic belt, and the perfect white Keds that all
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