Page 41 of Keeping Score

Not me. Not Liam. It couldn’t be us.

I couldn’t stomach the idea of it being us.

“What are you doing, Maggie?” she said, watching me as I stood by the window.

“I’m waiting for Dad to take me to the dance,” I told her, feeling stupid as I said it. “He knows it’s tonight.”

“Oh, baby,” my mom said, drying her eyes on the sleeve of her ratty sweatshirt. “I’ll take you to the dance. Let me get ready.”

“No!” I shouted, furious with her. “I want to go with Dad!”

Why would I want to go to the dance with my mother? What would I say when my friends asked why I brought her instead of my Dad? How would I feel seeing everyone with their fathers when I didn’t even know where mine was?

No. If my Dad wasn’t taking me, I wouldn’t go at all.

“Maggie, your hair,” my mother said, coming to touch my fresh curls, still smelling half fried from the heat. “Did you use the curling iron all by yourself?”

I nodded.

“You look so pretty, baby,” my mom said, reaching out to hug me.

I pushed her away. I didn’t want her touch. I didn’t want anyone’s.

Everyone disappointed me.

Dad left. Liam was never home. Mom had retreated to her room.

Everyone left me, and I hated them all for it.

I heard the sound of a car pulling up, and my heart pounded with anticipation as I turned my attention away from my mother and back out the window.

Then, it broke all over again, because I’d been foolish enough to hope.

It wasn’t him. It was just Liam, getting dropped off by his friend’s mom. I watched him walk up the path, hockey bag in tow as he took each step with a heavy foot.

He never wanted to be home anymore.

I didn’t either, but I had nowhere to go.

And I had to be home, in case Dad showed up. I had to be here to tell him we needed him to stay.

I started to sob. I couldn’t help it.

Everything was wrong, and I had a feeling it was never going to get better.

And worse than the realization of that was the loss of hope that had kept me going. I had only survived this long because of it. Now, that was shattered, too.

The door opened and Liam walked in, staring between me and our mother in alarm as the two of us cried.

“What’s going on?” he asked warily, looking like he wanted to take a step back out the door and get as far away from us as possible.

“Maggie’s father-daughter dance was tonight,” Mom told him. She sounded sorry for me.

I didn’t want Liam to feel sorry for me, too, so I forced myself to wipe away the tears and put on a brave face.

“Why’d you dress up?” Liam asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “It’s not like he’s here to take you.”

I wanted to scream.