but she realized she was at fault, too. “I should have done something! I should’ve made you take her to the therapist or something. Whatever needed to be done! I should’ve made you do it or done it myself, like Aunt Fran did!”
“You can’t do that, honey, that’s not your job. You’re a kid.”
“I’m not a kid . . . I’m a teenager!”
“You’re not an adult.”
“So what?” Allie shouted back, crying full bore. Her nose filled with mucus, congested. “What difference does that make . . . whose job it is? You’re the adult, but you didn’t do . . . the adult job! Sometimes the kid has to do the adult job!”
“No, no, no, that’s not right!”
“I should’ve found a way . . . to take her home myself! The 5K put her over the top, Dad!”
“Enough!” her father shouted, throwing up his hands. His face turned red, and the veins in his neck bulged. “What do you want me to say, honey? I’m sorry? Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m out of sorrys, okay? I can’t always make it better. I can’t always make everything better!”
“Could you not make it worse?” Allie shouted at him through her tears, then rushed out of the kitchen and ran upstairs to her bedroom.
CHAPTER 32
Julian Browne
Julian pushed his banana pancake around in the syrup. Sasha wasn’t answering his IM and he’d called her twice, but the housekeeper had told him she was out, which she wasn’t. She was in her bedroom but she must be mad at him, after last night. All he’d done was show her the truth, which was that Kyle was totally lame.
“You’re not hungry?” His mother sipped her coffee, peering over the rim of the cup. She had on her bathrobe and wacky reading glasses, so she looked like a hippie professor.
“I’m full.” Julian forced a smile, since she had made his favorite pancakes.
“I hate that I have to be gone all afternoon. What are you going to do?”
“Swim, play tennis.” Call Sasha.
“Tonight is bridge night. I tried to get them to move it, but you know how that is. A foursome.”
“It’s okay, I might be doing something with Sasha or David.”
“Good, just be home by eleven.” His mother returned her attention to the Sunday paper, spread out on the table between them. “Well, this is interesting.”
“What?” Julian asked, but he didn’t really care. She was always pointing out Dear Abby columns about divorce and children and ex-husbands, like mom propaganda.
“Hmm, I think this person lives in the development.”
“What person?”
“It’s a woman who’s living under an assumed name, or her maiden name. Her ex-husband was a doctor who went to jail for fondling little girls, his own patients. Can you imagine?”
“No,” Julian answered idly, wondering if he’d overplayed his hand last night.
“What’s the matter with people? His name is Hammond, but they call him ‘Dr. Dirtbag.’ His wife turned him in to the police, then moved here from Columbus, Ohio. Here, on Paso Fino. Yikes. I doubt your father will like that very much.”
“Right.” Julian half-listened, wondering if he’d ever get Sasha on the boat now.
“She has a son your age, too. He’s going to the high school in the fall. What a shame.” His mother clucked. “His name is Kyle.”
“What, a new kid named Kyle? From Columbus?” Julian got up to see the newspaper.
CHAPTER 33
Sasha Barrow
Sasha checked her Buddy List, but Kyle still wasn’t online. His screen name, Buckeyezzz716, was grayed-out at the bottom of the list.
“Sasha, telephone!” Bonnie called her, from the base of the stairwell. “It’s Julian!”
“Tell him I’m still out!”
“He’s been calling! He says it’s an emergency!”
“Okay,” Sasha called back, rolling her eyes. She had punished him long enough. She picked up the phone. “I’m so mad at you for what you did to Kyle.”
“You’re about to thank me.”
“What do you mean? I would never thank you.”
“Sash, he’s not who he says he is. Did you see the newspaper today?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Whatever Kyle told you about himself, it’s a lie. He’s not who he said he is. His father was a doctor, and he’s in jail for molesting little girls. His patients.”
“What?” Sasha didn’t believe him. “Julian, you’re making this up.”
“No, I’m not. Look online. You can read it for yourself. He’s not only a loser, he’s a lowlife. Whatever he told you was a lie.”
“Come on.”
“I’m not kidding, it’s real. My mom checked at the office. He uses a fake last name. His real last name is