Six (13 page)

I know, I know. I'm sorry,
said their dad. He put his head in his hands.

“What's the matter with him?”
signed Emma.

Parker just shook his head. What could he say to her? That his father was losing his mind? He was quite certain of it now, but he wasn't sure it would help to upset Emma with that.

“He's tired,”
he signed back finally, just as his father looked up.

“Let's go,” he said.

Parker nodded and their father stood up.

“But what about our letters?”
signed Emma.

*  *  *  *  *  *

It was a muted ceremony. Their father handed Emma her letter, then turned to Parker and handed his over with what Parker read as a look of guilt. Parker took it, turned, and dropped it in the water, but not before noticing how expertly it had been sealed back up. Had he not found his father last night, Parker would never have suspected a thing.

He didn't bother to watch where it went. “Let's go,” he said.

Emma, sitting cross-legged and watching her own letter float off into the distance, turned to Parker and their father with a look of utter confusion on her face.

“But . . .” she signed.

There must have been something in his and his father's expressions that told Emma that, for once, it was not worth arguing. With tears in her eyes—but not another word—she stood up. Their father put his arm around her, but she shook it away and walked off.

*  *  *  *  *  *

The silver car pulled up behind them as they exited the park. Parker would have been too lost in his thoughts to have noticed it had their own car not suddenly bolted forward as his father slammed his foot on the gas pedal.

“Dad!”

Parker's dad, his jaw clenched tightly, looked up at the rearview mirror and then, without saying anything, accelerated.

At the same time, Parker and Emma pulled out the straps of their seat belts and turned to look out the back window.

“Get your heads down!” shouted their father.

Parker pulled Emma down with him just as their father drove full speed into a bend. With the entire force of his body pressing into his seat belt, Parker strained his neck forward to get a view of what was happening from the side mirror.

The silver car was directly behind them.

For the first time, Parker began to wonder if maybe his dad wasn't going crazy after all.

He kept a silent watch on the side mirror as their car hurtled at top speed along the empty country road, the silver car in close pursuit. Parker glanced up and saw the lights of an intersection up ahead of them turning red.

“Dad!”

At the same time that Parker shouted, his dad cursed under his breath. Perhaps hoping that the lights would turn before they reached them, his dad kept his foot on the accelerator until the very last minute. Then, as Parker gripped tightly onto the seat, his father slammed his foot down on the brake and screeched to a full stop. Parker jumped around again to get a look at the two men in the car behind, half expecting one of them to be leaning out the window with a gun pointing in their direction. The reality, it turned out, was very different.

Parker stared at the men as they chatted to each other without the slightest look of agitation on their faces. The one in the passenger seat—the one who had ruffled Emma's hair—leaned forward and picked something up. A bottle of water. He handed it over to the driver, who took a sip of it just as the lights turned green. Perhaps unaware of how distracted the men in the car behind them appeared to be, their father slammed his foot back onto the accelerator, and their car shot forward again, straight through the intersection and up the long clear road ahead of them. Parker remained turned and watched as the silver car—still stationary—grew smaller with distance. At any point, thought Parker, the driver of the silver car was going to realize they were getting away and pick up the pursuit. Instead the car did the very opposite of what he thought it was going to do: it indicated and slowly turned left at the light. The chase—if that was what it had been—was over.

“They're gone, Dad,” said Parker as he turned around.

His dad was looking in the rearview mirror, and Parker guessed—by the fact that his father had already begun to slow down—that he had also seen the car turn away. He looked as confused as Parker felt as he pulled the car to the side.

“Are you both okay?” he asked, turning around in his seat.

It was only then that they both realized Emma was crying.

*  *  *  *  *  *

“Three chocolate milk shakes,” said his father.

“Great choice,” replied the waitress. “Would you like something to eat, too?”

“No, thank you.”

“Are you
sure
?” She was smiling. “You won't taste chicken wings better than ours.” As if to prove her point, she motioned over to a sign with the words
WORLD'S BEST CHICKEN WINGS
shining in neon pink.

“Three milk shakes,” said Parker's father. “That's all.”

“They're very good,” insisted the woman.

“I
said
three milk shakes. That's all. Now, if you wouldn't mind leaving us alone . . .”

Clearly taken aback by the curt response, their server hesitated—as if wanting to give their father a piece of her mind—then looked at the two children: Emma with red eyes and Parker with a sullen face. She turned abruptly and left without another word.

As soon as she was out of sight, Parker felt his wrist vibrate, and both he and Emma—probably as reluctantly as each other—pressed down to answer.

We need to talk,
said his father.

Neither Parker nor Emma responded.

I know you're both confused about what's going on.

Parker guessed that Emma was doing the same as he was; listening to their father with her thoughts muted.

Parker's father—probably realizing the same thing—sighed.

It's hard to explain everything,
he continued.
You know that my work isn't something I can discuss. It's as much for your own protection as for mine.

Parker looked up and pressed down on his wrist.
Why? Don't you trust us?

Of course I trust you. I trust you both. There'll come a time—soon—when I can tell you more. I promise. In the meantime, I have to hold some things back from you both.

Did those men want to hurt me?
asked Emma. It was the first time she had spoken since they'd left the park.

Parker's father considered the question for a moment.
I don't know,
he said finally.

Emma's eyes widened.

I don't think so,
said his father, correcting himself.
I think they probably just wanted to give me a scare.

The image of the man casually handing the driver a bottle of water as they chatted came into Parker's mind.

Or maybe they weren't doing anything at all,
said Parker.

His father shrugged.
Possibly. The thing is . . .

He stopped as the waitress returned and placed the milk shakes in front of each of them. She was no longer smiling.

The thing is,
said their father, continuing his thought as they all took sips of their drinks,
the people I work for are very unhappy with me at the moment.

Why?
asked Parker.

Because they hired me to do something and I
haven't
managed to do it yet.

But you've only been there for three weeks!
said Emma.

Parker's father gave a weak smile.
That's what I keep telling them.

And they don't care?
asked Parker.

His father shook his head.
My boss is not a reasonable man. That's probably the politest way I can
put it.

What's he going to do to you?
asked Emma.

Nothing. It's going to be fine. I'll get the work that he wants me to do done and then I can leave. He's just annoyed that it's taking me longer than he thought it would.

But you can do it?

Yes, I can do it. I'm nearly there. Like I said, I think today was just about giving me a bit of a scare. And it worked. But he needs me to get the job done and that's not going to happen if I were to leave. Do you understand that?

Parker and Emma nodded, though neither he nor Emma looked very convinced.

I know you're both going to worry about this—and that's why I didn't want to say anything, but nothing bad is going to happen and you don't need to worry—I'll take care of everything. I promise.

How long is it going to take?

A month. That's it. You'll have to put up with me working all hours for another month and then we're done. Okay?

Not really,
thought Parker. Luckily, he had already pressed the mute button on Effie before the thought crossed his mind. He nodded and unmuted the call.
Okay, Dad.

The waitress reappeared at their table. “Will you be wanting anything else?” she asked.

“No, thank you. Just the check,” said their father with an apologetic smile. “We'll try the chicken wings next time.”

The waitress narrowed her eyes at him, then turned on her heels and walked off to get the bill.

“Let's go home,” said Parker's father.

“
I thought we were going to get the stuff for the alarm from the hardware store,
” signed Emma.

“Another time,” said their father, standing up.

Parker dragged himself out of bed on Monday morning with a heavy head and a tight knot in his stomach. The events of the previous day had been playing heavily on his mind, and he had struggled to sleep. When he had finally passed out—sometime in the early hours of the morning—his dreams had been filled with the sound of his mother calling for him, always just out of reach no matter how fast he tried to run. He had woken up in a cold sweat, exhausted, relieved only for a moment that it had been a dream before remembering that the nightmare wasn't over; he now had to go to school and face Aaron.

*  *  *  *  *  *

His father and sister were already having breakfast in the kitchen when Parker came in. Both were already dressed; Emma in an eye-watering mix of fluorescent pink and orange, and his dad in his usual white shirt and tie. His father's hair was wet from the shower, but he looked anything but refreshed; his face was gray and the deep bags under his eyes were just as heavy as they had been the day before. Parker guessed he wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping.

“I'm not feeling well,” said Parker.

Parker's dad put down the cup of coffee in his hand and looked up. “What's the matter?”

Emma was standing at the kitchen counter behind his dad, staring at Parker. They didn't have Effie turned on, but Parker guessed by the look on her face that she had lip-read what he'd said. She raised her eyebrows at him, and Parker quickly looked away.

“I think I ate something bad. I was sick in the night.”

“Why didn't you wake me up?”

“I didn't want to bother you. Can I stay home?”

His dad stood up and approached Parker. He put his hand on Parker's forehead, and Parker, already feeling guilty enough about lying, pulled back.

His father narrowed his eyes. “Are you really sick?”

Parker nodded as his wrist began to vibrate. Using Effie was such a normal occurrence in their house that his dad didn't notice Parker pressing down on his wrist to answer.

What are you going to do, stay home forever?
asked Emma.

Just today, okay? I'll go in tomorrow.

Behind his dad, Parker saw Emma consider this and then, finally, she shrugged. Parker switched Effie off.

His dad stared at him a little longer. “If you're upset about yesterday . . .”

“I'm not! I'm just sick. Really.”

“Parker, don't do this to me. Not today. I can't stay home.”

“I don't need you to stay home. I'll be fine on my own.”

His father was shaking his head before Parker had even finished speaking. “No way. I'm sorry. You're going to have to go in.”

“But I'm sick!”

“I'm sorry. You're not staying home on your own.” His dad paused. “Is this about the fight with the boy at school?”

Parker looked at his feet. “No. And you said you weren't going to talk about that.”

“Okay. Fine. I understand it's hard, but you've only been there a week—it'll get easier. You have to go in. I'll give you a note to excuse you from gym, if you want.”

Parker was furious. “I was
throwing up
.”

“I'm sorry—I'm not changing my mind.”

“You're actually going to send me in to school throwing up?”

“You're not throwing up now. You'll be fine.”

Parker willed himself to be sick right there at his father's feet, but unfortunately, nothing more than a gagging sound came out.

“Go and get dressed,” said his father calmly. “You can rest when you get home.”

Parker glared at his dad and then, realizing that nothing was going to change his mind, stormed off.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Parker was still fuming when he arrived at school. As soon as the bus stopped, everybody jumped up except Parker. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Wish me luck!”
signed Emma. She was standing up, her backpack already on her back.

Parker shrugged. “Why?”

Emma's mouth dropped open as if she couldn't believe he didn't know what she was talking about.