I roll my eyes. “Yeah, thanks. I got that part. I meant where did it come from?”
She gives me a withering look. “I don’t know, Zach. The supermarket?”
May snort-laughs and Gwen’s face flushes with pleasure. I jab May with my elbow, trying to get her to stop encouraging my little sister’s attitude problem, and she snickers again. I don’t even care that they’re ganging up on me—at least May has some life in her again, and Gwen looks happy for the first time all day.
I open the fridge, and by some miracle there is actual food in it. Like, not just the normal Styrofoam take-out containers full of rotting leftovers. Actual fresh fruit and vegetables.
I glance over my shoulder at Gwen. “Seriously, where did this come from?”
“I told you. I. Don’t. Know.” She sticks her tongue out at me, and then it’s back to her phone.
Fourteen-year-olds are so much fun.
I give the top of her head the finger and then turn to May. “Well, it appears we’re going to be able to eat something other than Easy Mac. Are you hungry?”
May shakes her head. “No. I’m good. Just some water or whatever.”
I stick my head back in the fridge. “La Croix?” I hold one up for May to see and she nods. As I walk over to the cabinet to get her a glass, I mutter under my breath, “We have La Croix? What is happening? This is so weird.”
The kitchen door swings open and my father walks into the room. He’s dressed in normal street clothes. Not a bathrobe in sight. It’s like an alien kidnapped my dad and replaced him with an ordinary person. May considers him, then turns her eyes to me, then back to him, probably wondering why I told her my dad was some sort of recluse when he’s obviously a normal dude wearing khakis and an old gray T-shirt.
“Hey, kiddos.” He ruffles Gwen’s hair as he passes by.
He has never called us kiddos in our entire lives.
“Hey.” Gwen looks up from her phone and does a mini double take. She shoots me a WTF expression, and I shrug.
“Zach!” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “How was school? And who’s this lovely lady?” He walks over to May and sticks out his hand. “Jay Teller.”
“May.” She gives him a tentative smile and shakes his hand.
“What are you doing, Dad?” My voice comes out weary.
He turns to me. “What do you mean?”
This act he’s putting on is bullshit. No one’s fooled by it. I’m so tempted to start a fight with him, but I catch sight of May out of the corner of my eye, and I don’t want her to think I’m an asshole. Instead, I shrug like I couldn’t care less.
He gets all huffy, like I hurt his feelings. “What’s the big deal? I went to the market earlier today. I thought we could all have dinner together tonight because—”
I interrupt him. “Sure. Whatever. Sounds good.”
His eyes narrow, but he lets my tone slide. “Great. May, you’ll join us?”
She starts to protest, but he won’t take no for an answer. For the first time ever. Normally, he’s all about that word.
He insists that we all sit in the kitchen while he fixes us a snack. As he’s chopping vegetables, he asks May question after question, so many that it’s embarrassing. It’s like he’s never met a friend of mine, like he thinks he needs to put on a show to make sure she’ll come back. I want to yell at him to stop, to shut up, to leave us alone, but instead I silently pick at my food, and when I can’t take it for one second longer, I excuse myself to the bathroom, leaving May behind.
What in the fuck am I doing here?
The question has been running through my head since I walked into the house. With every passing moment, I’m getting more and more wound up, more and more trapped in my lies. More and more worried