Uncanny Day by Cory Clubb

you’ve got to do something.” Dean finally said, but the words were grounded and didn’t come with as much bite as they had upstairs.
    But I’d had enough, and I didn’t hold back with my own bite. “What do you know, Dean? Your dad isn’t some blathering idiot in a straitjacket.” Dean had no idea the extent of the scars—physical and mental—Dad had left on me.
    Dean wasn’t backing down from his argument. “You have to get serious about this,” he said, and then it dawned on me that he wasn’t referring to a visit with Dad. I swore. If he had blabbed to Rick and Tracy, he would be sorry.
    It was too late. Dean shifted his attention to his parents and spoke. “Nolan had a nosebleed at school today.”
    My mouth fell open. I could not believe he just flat-out told them. These were my problems and I would deal with them myself. Did he realize what this would do to me? A burning anger ran through my body, but above all, I felt sadness. What had happened to Dean and me? Why had he betrayed me like this?
    I shot to my feet, my chair tipping over, and fired back words at Dean. “What did you tell Kate Huddy?”
    Wide-eyed, Dean whipped back around at me, confusion written on his face. “What are you talking about, Nolan?”
    Tracy’s voice jumped in between us. “Boys, please,” she said, almost in tears. She and Rick had never seen Dean and me like this. Her wet eyes looked at me. “Nolan, are you okay? Does something hurt?”
    Rick too was on his feet, arms spread, trying to get control of the argument. “Hold it, you two,” he said. The room seemed to settle a bit, but I didn’t take my glare off Dean. Right then and there I should have read his mind. Then I would have known everything, but something held me back.
    â€œNolan, what’s going on?” Rick said, questioning me a second time. I felt like I was being attacked by a ravenous pack of wolves, unable to defend myself. All three of them were on me, waiting for my response. I didn’t know what to say.

Chapter Fifteen
    I FELT LIKE I could puke. I think if that had happened, the Mitchells would have seized the opportunity and leaped across the table in an attempt to bind me up and demand answers. Thankfully I held my pasta down.
    I turned and took off full speed up the stairs to my room. Slamming my bedroom door, I desperately wanted to lock it behind me. But the Mitchells had a rule and there were no locks on the doors so that each was always accessible, night or day.
    I leaned my back against the door, waiting for them to break it down any second. They didn’t. Then it began to dawn on me, as I looked around my room, that none of this was truly mine. Suddenly things started looking foreign to me. I had spent a year in this room, a year of making memories in this new life with this new family—all good things, or so I’d thought. Maybe I had become just another occupant of this room, just passing through. Once I was gone, someone else would take my spot and replace my memories with their own.
    My thoughts rounded on Dad and Dr. Vance’s phone call. Would Dad get better? What kind of treatments was he going through? Would he fight to get custody of me? Would I move back in with him? The idea traumatized me in ways I had never really realized. I had no idea how Dad was progressing. Maybe one day he’d show up on the front step and take me back, or the cops would pull me from school because Dad was moving to a new city. Heck, Deputy Mitchell might even be the one who would come to get me.
    I stood up and listened. I could hear Rick and Tracy’s voices and clinking dishes downstairs. An old thought bubbled up: was I still safe here? This seemed to be a reflex in my mind—safety. Had I ever truly known it? Don’t get me wrong—I liked the Mitchells. They weren’t bad people. But a snippet of dread crept into my head and