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I could lie and say no, but there’d be no point since I’d have to come clean in a month, anyway.
I nod.
“Well, who is it?” Dad asks.
In a raspy whisper, I say, “Johnny Raikes.”
“What?” my mom, dad, and sister yelp as one.
They’re looking at me as though I’ve just confessed to eating puppies for breakfast.
Mom’s hands are clamped over her mouth as if she has a bomb in there she doesn’t want to risk exploding.
My sister’s eyebrows have disappeared under her bangs.
And Dad’s features are frozen in horror.
He speaks first. “After what he did to you in high school, you got back together with the Raikes boy?”
I shake my head. “We’re not together.”
Dad’s face turns purple. “You mean he got you pregnant and now he’s refusing to take responsibility?”
Before I can clarify things, I’m back to hugging the bin and puking my heart out.
“That’s it, Harry!” Mom says. “That boy, oh, he had us fooled with the kind act and the muffin basket. But I know exactly when this happened.”
“When?” Dad asks.
“Halloween night, they must’ve had a one-night span.”
“One-night stand,” Teresa corrects.
“Whatever the name,” Mom continues. “I saw her do the walk of shame out of his house at one in the morning, wearing a cheap witch costume.”
I want the floor to swallow me. Or at least to stop vomiting long enough to debunk their wild theories.
Teresa crouches next to me and starts massaging my back, whispering in my ear, “Oh, you’ve been naughty.” While Dad screams, “That’s it! I’m going over there and putting that boy in his place.”
I wish I could stop him, explain how things really happened, or that I’d told Teresa so that she could clarify the situation for me. But I didn’t and at the moment I’m too busy retching to do anything else. I can only listen helplessly as Mom proclaims, “I’m coming with you.” And then the twin bangs of the front door as they leave.
“Sorry,” Teresa says soothingly. “I didn’t mean to rat you out.”
I squeeze her hand, letting her know it’s okay. Mom would’ve put me in an ambulance otherwise.
“You want me to stay here with you, or go next door to make sure they don’t kill him?” my sister asks.
I stop hugging the bin only long enough to make a go gesture, and then I’m back in puking hell.
38
JOHN
Everyone is ecstatic to be having Thanksgiving in the old house. At least us oldies. Nora and her two cousins don’t have an emotional attachment to this place, but for my parents, my sister, and I, it feels like the first Thanksgiving we’re having at home in fifteen years.
Mom has taken over the kitchen as if this were still her house. I’m not complaining. Her cooking is definitely better than mine. And despite my worries this would be Nora’s first major holiday without her mother, the day is turning out great.
Still, as we sit at the dining table, I can’t help but throw a wistful stare at the blocked-by-drawn-curtains window. Is Marissa already at her parents’? Will she scurry home without a word once her dinner is finished or sneak over for a slice of pie and maybe a goodnight kiss?
