Liars and Fools (9 page)

“Oh, honey.” She stood there behind me, not quite touching. I could hear her breathing. I could feel her wanting to touch me and not knowing if she should. If she did, I thought I might fall apart completely.

I sniffed and wiped the back of my hand across my eyes. It wasn't fair. I took a deep breath and blinked away my tears. Tom walked into the room with a grin and a wink.

“Hey there, chickie. What's up?”

“Not much.” I blew out a long breath and made a face. “Apparently, I have to have dinner with dad's flaky lying psychic girlfriend.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Do I detect a note of displeasure?”

“You could say that.”

Tom nodded. “Yeah. Well, it's gotta be tough. No matter what she was like, I don't imagine you'd be thrilled about your dad dating yet.”

“Exactly. Because it's too soon. It is, right?” I looked up at him hopefully. “It's only been a year. He shouldn't be getting involved with anyone.”

Tom and Joni exchanged glances.

“Right? He shouldn't. Especially…you know, someone who tells lies and pretends she knows what's going to happen next. Because that's bull. It's bull. No one knows what's going to happen.” My breath caught in my throat.

Tom pulled me in for a crushing bear hug. “Hang in there, chickie. You'll get through this.”

There was a honk outside. I looked out the window and saw Dad's car pulling up in the driveway. I pulled away from Tom and looked up at his face. “You don't think she could actually be psychic, do you?”

He glanced at Joni, shrugged and spread his arms out wide. “World's a big, strange place.”

I frowned at him, frustrated. “Yeah, but, come on, Tom. You know she has to be a fake.”

“Most people spend their lives looking for some kind of certainty.” Tom ruffled my hair. “Me, I tend to see certainty as a state of mind best avoided.”

“Okay. Fine. But talking to dead people?”

Joni snorted, and Tom shook his head. Without anyone saying a word, I knew we were all thinking about Mom.

Dad honked again.

“I guess we're in a hurry,” I said flatly.

Joni gave me a quick pat on the shoulder. Tom wrapped his arms around me, his beard tickling my cheek.

“You hang in there, kiddo,” he told me again.

ten

“How come you didn't come in to say hi?” I asked Dad as I got in the car.

“Put your seat belt on.”

“I am. Jeez.” I buckled up, watching him. He was frowning. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine.” He backed up without checking the rearview mirror and slammed the brakes on. “Damn cyclists.”

I looked over my shoulder. A teenage girl on a bicycle flipped Dad off. “Well, she did have the right of way. You weren't looking.”

He ignored my comment, pulled out of the driveway more carefully and started driving toward home. “We're picking up Chinese. I phoned in an order,” he said after a minute.

“Whatever. How come we have to see them again? We just saw them on Tuesday.”

“Fiona, don't start.” He sounded weary, like I was such a pain in the backside.

“I'm not starting anything,” I said, stung. “I was just asking.”

“I'm seeing quite a bit of Kathy,” he said after a pause. “I know that's upsetting for you, and I can understand that, but I think it'll help if you get to know her. Honestly, Fiona, I think you'd like her if you gave her a chance. If you tried to see her as a real person, not just…”

“Some phony who pretends to be able to talk to dead people?”

He tightened his hands on the wheel and gave me a level glance. “Not as someone who's trying to take your mother's place.”

“She can't do that.”

“No. She knows she can't. She doesn't want to. But if you'd let her, I think she could be a good friend.”

“Yeah, right.” I rolled my eyes.

Dad shook his head like he was disappointed in me, and neither of us said anything more. There didn't seem to be much to say. When Dad ran into Jade Garden to pick up the sweet-and-sour chicken, honey-garlic spareribs and pork fried rice, I closed my eyes and tried to picture Mom's face. I couldn't do it. I could picture the photos I had of her, but I couldn't actually see her real face in my mind. It kept slipping away.

I guess Dad must have given Kathy a key, because when we got home, she and Caitlin were already inside, setting our dining-room table and getting drinks out of our refrigerator. It was totally weird. Dad and I never even used the dining room. I stood around feeling like this wasn't my house at all.

“Sit, sit!” Kathy invited us to the table like she was the one who lived here. Dad sat down, grinning like everything was just wonderful. I ignored him and took the seat beside Caitlin, who kept staring at me, her straight blond hair hanging limply around her pale little face. I felt like throwing something at her, but instead I just asked her to pass the spareribs. Despite Joni's cookies, I was starving.

Kathy helped herself to some sweet-and-sour chicken. “This is delicious.” Red goop dropped from her fork and splattered Mom's favorite tablecloth, a white one embroidered with tiny flowers. She wiped at it with her napkin, making a big ugly smear. “I'm taking Caitlin shopping tomorrow. She's outgrown liars and fools all her clothes from last year. We're just going to the mall, but I wondered if you might like to come along.”

“Me? Why?” I couldn't think of anything I wanted less.

“For fun. You must need something, don't you? Capris? A new dress? Summer's coming up.” She laughed. “That's our excuse, at least.”

If she was psychic, she'd have known I didn't wear dresses. Actually, if she was even mildly observant, she'd have known. “Thanks, but I'll pass.”

“I think it's a great idea,” Dad said. “I can't even remember the last time you got new clothes.”

No doubt. Buying me clothes had been Mom's job. Sometimes Joni picked up a new hoodie or pair of jeans for me. Dad never even seemed to notice.

“I hate shopping,” I said.

“There's no need to be rude about it.” He looked a little taken aback. He took his glasses off and rubbed them on his shirt. Without his wire rims framing his eyes, he looked kind of exposed and vulnerable, like a crab without its shell.

“Think about it,” Kathy said lightly. “You don't have to decide right now.”

I slid the chow mein toward my plate and dished myself a large scoop of noodles. “Actually, I'm busy tomorrow. I have plans with Abby.”

“What are you doing?” Caitlin asked quickly.

I wondered if she had guessed I was lying about having plans. “It's not really any of your business,” I told her. My voice was sharper than I meant it to be.

Dad put his glasses back on and instantly was his usual, slightly grouchy self again. “Fiona! That is enough. You are being inexcusably rude.”

I pushed my plate away, suddenly not hungry. “Whatever.” I snuck a sideways glance at Caitlin, who was still staring at me. Her expression hadn't changed, but her cheeks were turning pink.

“Excuse us a moment,” Dad said. He grabbed my arm, hustled me into the hallway and closed the door.

I pulled my arm free and stared back at him, my stomach a tight ball of anger.

I thought he was going to yell at me, but he didn't say anything at all for a long time. Finally he sighed, his hands hanging limp at his sides. “Fiona. That was beyond rude. It was unkind. I'm ashamed of you.” His frown carved deep creases between his eyes. “I know this is hard for you, okay? You've made that pretty obvious. And I am trying to be understanding, but enough is enough. Caitlin's just a kid. She's had plenty to deal with herself, but she's managing to be friendly and polite. I don't see you even making an effort.”

I glared at him. “None of this was my idea. I don't want her here. I don't want Kathy here. And if you woke up and saw that she's a fraud, maybe you wouldn't want her here either.”

He stepped back abruptly. “This conversation is over,” he said. “My relationship with Kathy is not up for discussion.”

“But Dad—”

“To your room. Now.”

I slammed the door behind me, cut through the kitchen and grabbed two apples from the fridge drawer. Then I went up to my room, threw myself on the bed and ate them while staring at the ceiling. There were about a thousand cracks on it. I usually liked making pictures out of them—seeing faces, or sailboats, or animals.

Tonight, all those cracks just made me feel like everything was falling apart.

eleven

A few minutes later there was a knock at my door. “What?”

The door opened a crack, and Caitlin poked her head in.

“What do you want?” I said rudely.

“Mom said I should come up and hang out with you, but you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to.” Caitlin's voice was so quiet I could hardly hear her, and she looked a bit scared: all wide-eyed like some baby animal. I thought it was kind of mean of Kathy to send her up here just so she and Dad could be alone together.

“You can come in,” I said awkwardly. “It's nothing personal, you know. I just don't think my dad should be seeing so much of your mother.”

She shrugged and slipped through my door, closing it behind her. “I know. I don't want them dating either.”

“You don't?”

Caitlin tucked a limp strand of blond hair behind her ear. Everything about her was pale: almost white hair, skin that looked like it had never seen the sun, transparent blue eyes. She looked like one of those albino bunny rabbits.

She shook her head. “No offence, but your Dad's all wrong for my Mom. He's too old, for a start.”

“He's not old.”

Caitlin shrugged again. “Whatever.”

My thoughts were racing. Even though I agreed with her that Dad and Kathy were wrong for each other, I didn't like her comment about Dad being old. Not that I disagreed—I'd said pretty much the same thing the other night when I pointed out the age difference between him and Kathy. I just wouldn't have expected Caitlin to be so direct.

On the other hand, if she didn't want them together either, maybe she could help me figure out a way to put a stop to it. I narrowed my eyes, wondering how much to trust her. “So your Mom's a psychic. Like, professionally?”

“Yeah. That's another reason I don't think she should be involved with your Dad.” She rolled her pale eyes with what looked like scorn. “He's got no spiritual abilities at all.”

I could feel my jaw drop. “Excuse me? You don't think she should date my dad because he's
not
a psychic? That's, like, the dumbest thing I've ever heard.”

“Sorry.” Her cheeks went instantly pink.

“Seriously. You can't actually believe the whole psychic thing?”

Caitlin looked at me straight on. “Mom's not a fake, if that's what you're thinking. She's helped a lot of people.”

“Yeah, I'll bet.” Helped them to hand over their money, I thought. “You're in grade six, right? I guess you'll be going to middle school next year?”

“I homeschool,” Caitlin said. She looked around my room. “What's with all the maps?”

“Those aren't maps,” I said. “They're charts.”

My walls are covered with nautical charts. They're old and out of date, but I didn't mind. It's not as if the oceans change that much from year to year. Though I guessed they might, if global warming continued. I pushed that thought away, because thinking about climate change always made me anxious. I stood and crossed the room to stand beside Caitlin. “South Pacific,” I said. “The little brown dots are islands. Lots of them are uninhabited.”

Caitlin screwed up her pale little face. “Who'd want to go to an island no one lives on? There'd be nothing there.”

I looked at her incredulously. “Yeah. That'd be the point. Duh.”

A hint of pink rose in her cheeks.

“You could go somewhere else,” I said quickly. “That's the whole thing about sailing; that's why it's so great. You could sail to San Francisco or New York. Europe. Africa. Australia. Anywhere you want.”

Caitlin looked unimpressed. “You could fly to any of those places in a lot less time.”

“Yeah, sure, but sailing…”

“I took some lessons last summer,” Caitlin said. “It was kind of boring.”

All the air rushed out of my lungs in a big
whoosh
. I couldn't stand it.

“Well,” I said, “it's been nice chatting with you, but I have homework to do.”

Caitlin just stood there looking dumb, so I grabbed my books and pushed past her, out the door and downstairs to the kitchen. Dad and Kathy were in the living room, talking. Their voices drifted in, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. I picked up the phone and speed-dialed Abby.

“You have to rescue me,” I said. “This is a nightmare.”

“Hold on,” she said. Then she yelled “Mom!” without taking the phone away from her mouth, practically rupturing my eardrum.

I held the phone several inches away from my ear and listened to Abby telling her mom that we absolutely had to start work on our science project right away. Muffled response.

“Fiona?”

I put the phone back to my ear gingerly. “Yeah?”

“Mom says you can come over here or I can come to your house. To work on our science project. I can sleep over, she says.”

I hesitated. What I wanted was to get out of my house, but Dad was more likely to agree to Abby coming over. Or not. He was pretty mad at me. “I'll go check with Dad,” I said slowly, “but if you came over here, you could talk to Kathy. Maybe you could help me figure out a way to prove that she's a fake.”

Dad wasn't crazy about the idea of Abby coming over.

“It's almost seven,” he said.