and sometimes people die from it. You can’t . . .” I shrugged, helpless to explain it any better than that.
Dad looked away, his jaw tight. “I miss her. So much.”
“You never talk about her.”
“No.”
“But you still think of her?”
“Every day. Every moment.” He faced me again. “You look so much like her.”
I bit my lip. I wanted to hide my face. I wanted to look in a mirror.
“Dad, I’m sorry.”
His eyes drifted out of focus. I tensed, anticipating the return of his anger. I didn’t think I could handle it now.
“I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I went behind your back.” My eyes flooded with heat. “I’m sorry I wrecked the bus.” My breath hitched. I put my face in my hands and felt the sobs take me over, wracking my body.
He sat next to me on the bed, put his arm around me.
“Hush, now,” he said, stroking my hair, but it only made me cry harder. “You were right,” he said. “You did everything right. None of this is your fault.”
His forgiveness punctured some invisible membrane inside me, and I dissolved into hysterical crying, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, gasping for air. Dad held me until I became still.
After a long silence, he released me, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his prescription bottle.
I frowned. The last time I’d checked, he had only a few pills left—but the bottle he held now contained at least ten tablets. Also, they were the wrong color; it was apparent, even through the orange plastic vial. I read the label, and my mouth fell open.
“How—”
“You need them, Ellie,” he said, pressing the bottle into my hands, “and I need you.”
My throat tightened. “But what about yours? Your heart!”
He pulled another bottle from his coat pocket, smiled, and rattled the pills inside. “Got it covered.”
“But we were broke. How did you get these? Did you—”
“I didn’t steal. I never had your light hands.”
I shook my head and felt the ghost of a smile on my lips. Dad returned a more substantial one. Then he held up his wrist, showing a band of pale skin where his watch had been. “Nothing up my sleeve.”
“You sold your grandfather’s watch?” My smile vanished. That watch had been in our family for almost a century.
“Pawned it,” he said, smiling more broadly. “But you can buy it back for me, once we’ve received that big fat check from Flynn & Kellar.”
I gaped at him, and a tornado inside me seemed to suck away my breath.
“You’re going to do it?”
He nodded.
I threw my arms around him, and he squeezed me tightly.
“I’ve been a fool,” he said. “Trying to protect my reputation, my pride. What I should have been protecting is you.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “I can’t afford to lose you, Ellie. So we’ll do the show. I won’t pretend to be happy about it. But yes, of course, we’ll do the show.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but he shushed me.
“I have conditions,” he said.
I nodded, ready to accept any conditions he laid out.
“First, you will take your medication every day, and you’ll tell me when you’re running low. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Then start now.”
I opened the bottle and tapped one of the little blue tablets into my palm. I stared at it for a moment, feeling relieved but also terrified. It would be good to feel even again, to level out, to have that chemical safety net. The drug would protect me from the lows—but what if it blocked out the highs as well? What if it dimmed the stage lights, numbed the rush of performing, tamed the impulses I’d give in to so freely with Liam? Would all those precious highs dissolve as the medication took hold? I didn’t know. Somehow, I couldn’t remember how it had been before.
“Take it, Ellie,” Dad said.
I closed my eyes, placed it on my tongue, and swallowed it dry.
“Good.” Dad smiled. “Second, you will take the rest of this semester off.”
My shoulders stiffened. Taking a semester off would push everything back half a year: graduation, job, insurance. Dad was looking older by the day, and I wasn’t sure we could afford the delay.
He put a hand on my arm. “You’re not dropping out—you’re just taking a health leave. I’ve already called your doctor, and he’s writing your principal a letter. You can take double courses in the summer if you must.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “I won’t budge