Unraveling Isobel (21 page)

She was right. If I didn't send it now, I would lose my nerve. I marched up to the desk and pulled out an envelope. I wrote Dad's address down and practically slapped the stamp on. The older librarian came around the corner and stared at me behind the counter.

“I have permission. She said I could use one of the stamps.” I pointed to Mandy. The older librarian followed my finger and then looked back at me.

“Oh.” Her voice was flat.

I waved to Mandy before heading out the door. Now that I'd written the letter, I wanted to go home and see Nate and tell him about Nicole.

Downsides to living in the same house as the guy you like:

 

1. The chances of running into him in the hallway with seriously bad bed-head and morning breath
that smells like a week-old corpse left in the hot sun are high.

2. If you walk past his door at night, you'll discover he snores. That or he's keeping a running sawmill in there with competing chainsaws.

3. You can't watch your favorite cheesy TV shows without him knowing you have no taste. This leaves you pretending to have a huge interest in the stuff they show on public television.

4. He sees your weird eating habits, like how you like strawberry Pop-Tarts with peanut butter smeared on top.

5. Your favorite flannel pj's with the sock monkey design all over them have a seriously saggy ass, and thus you have to get up extra early so that you are dressed by the time you go downstairs for breakfast.

The major upside of living in the same place is that you see way more of him. Except, of course, when you really need to. I couldn't wait to talk to Nate and tell him about everything: seeing Dr. Mike, what happened with Nicole, and the letter to my dad. I flung open the front door and ran smack into Dick.

“Jesus!” I yelled out. Had he just been freaking standing there next to a closed door? Who the hell does that?

“Please don't cuss in this house,” Dick said. “It isn't ladylike.”

I did my best to avoid rolling my eyes. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “Is Nate home?”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to talk with him.”

“What did your therapist say?”

Clearly, Dick wasn't going to let me find Nathaniel until we played twenty questions. “It's sort of private. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all that.” If Dick thought I was going to let him have a peek into my brain, he was more deluded than the average schizophrenic. My mom stood in the doorway to the kitchen clutching a dish towel.

“I think Isobel's seeing Dr. Mike is a good step forward. Nip any problems right in the bud,” my mom said.

“How in the world are we supposed to trust the medical opinion of someone who calls himself Dr. Mike?” Dick argued.

Even though I had mocked Dr. Mike's name, it was totally different when Dick did it.

“He has great credentials,” my mom said, twisting the towel in her hands.

“Well, I hope so. It isn't that I want to cause trouble, but I also don't think we can afford to bury our heads in the sand. All I can say is that if we don't see some radical changes around here, we're going to need to look at other options.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“I think you need far more help than ‘Dr. Mike' can give you. I spoke to someone in Olympia. He recommended that with your family history and current acting out, you would benefit from a residential program. At the very least until they get you on a working medication regime.”

I felt my nostrils flare in annoyance. “I don't need medications.” I turned to face my mom. “I don't need to be on drugs. There isn't anything wrong with me.”

“Nothing wrong?” Dick shook his head sadly. “What would you call your behavior lately?”

“For the record, Dick,” I put the emphasis on his name, “you're not my dad. So while I appreciate your input, decisions about my life aren't up to you.”

“What goes on in this house is up to me,” Dick fired back.

“What, you're planning to kick me out unless I do what you want? Do you think that's a threat? That sounds like a dream come true. Go ahead, tell me to leave. I can be on the next ferry back to Seattle. I have friends I can stay with so that I'm not cluttering up your house—oh, excuse me, I meant your estate.” My face was inches from Dick's. I really hoped that if he called my bluff, Anita would forgive me for our fight. Otherwise it was going to be really awkward when I showed up at her place with my duffel bag and all my worldly belongings.

“Both of you stop it.” Dick and I stopped our staring contest
to look over at my mom. She was on the verge of tears and her lower lip was shaking. “We're a family now, and we solve problems as a family. No one is going anywhere.” Mom shoved the towel under her arm and dashed past us up the stairs.

“I hope you're happy. You've upset your mother.”

“
I've
upset her?” I snorted. I couldn't believe the arrogance of this guy. I shook my head. There was no point in arguing with him. “Excuse me, I need to speak to Nate.” I stepped around Dick and headed for the stairs.

“Nathaniel's not home.”

“Fine, I'll wait.”

Dick grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above my elbow. He pulled me close, and I could feel the spray of spit from his mouth when he spoke. “You stay away from him. I know your type.” He looked me up and down like I was naked and he didn't like what he saw. “You think you can make yourself better by clinging to someone like Nathaniel. You need him for your reputation, and you're nowhere near good enough for him.”

I yanked my arm back. “I have no idea what you're talking about.” My heart was beating fast. Dick's “I'm a caring stepdad with your best interests at heart” act was officially over.

“Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. You need him to make yourself look good.”

“I'm going to tell my mom what you said.”

Dick laughed. “You do that. You turn to your mother like
a security blanket. You think she's going to believe you given everything going on?”

“I know what you're doing.” I tried to keep my voice unwavering. “You're trying to convince my mom I'm crazy.”

“It's not that hard of an argument to make.”

“I'm not crazy.”

Dick smiled. “I don't really care one way or the other.”

I pushed past Dick and ran up the stairs to my room. I slammed the door loud enough so that it echoed through the whole house.

Chapter 29

A
dults love to tell teens how this is the best time of our lives. How we should consider ourselves lucky to be living this “worry free” lifestyle. I can't tell if they say this stuff because they are completely delusional or they've forgotten what it is really like to be a teenager, or if they know how much it can suck, but they enjoy lying to us.

As a teen, you might not have the worries of a full-time job and having to pay a mortgage, but you do have to deal with the fact that you are completely at your parents' mercy. Your parents can decide (without any input from you) where you live, where you go to school. They can control what you wear. They tell you when you have to be home and try to decide who you're allowed to hang out with. They police what's on TV or if your house even has a TV. They decide when dinner is served and
what you'll be eating. If they decide they want to be vegetarians, you're stuck trying to eat hot dogs on the sly.

Here's the real kicker: until you are eighteen, the law totally supports this domination. I knew a girl in my old high school. Her parents found religion and decided that she dressed too slutty. They cut up everything she owned. Including a pair of amazing expensive jeans that she had saved up her after-school job money to buy. Do you have any idea how many Happy Meals a girl has to make to buy designer jeans? A lot. They bought her a bunch of clothing that looked like it belonged on an eighty-year-old Amish woman. This girl went to the police because she figured there had to be some sort of law against your parents ruining your life, and she found out there was nothing she could do. Unless they're beating or molesting you, the authorities stay out of it. In fact, if you complain too much, you're considered a troublemaker. Your parents can force you to go to one of those teen boot camps where you have to sleep outside and eat cockroaches in order to learn some sort of valuable lesson.

Best time of our lives? Not freaking likely.

I sat folded up in the window seat in my room with Mr. Stripes the stuffed zebra in my lap. I hadn't bothered going down for dinner. There didn't seem to be any point in acting like everything was fine while Dick did his best to convince my mom to send me away. I kept waiting for Nate to come home, but it was getting dark and there was still no sign of him. After what Dick had said, I couldn't ask him where Nate was, so I
was stuck waiting. He never carried his phone, so I couldn't call him. For all I knew he had moved out. While I waited, I kept thinking about what Dr. Mike said about taking control of some part of my life. I couldn't take control of Dick, as much as I would like to force him to bend to my will. I couldn't convince my mom that Dick was twisting everything I said and did. I couldn't control when Nate came home, because if long-distance mind control worked, he would have been here hours ago. If I could control where I lived, I would be on the next ferry so fast, all people would see is a blur as I ran down to the dock. Sure, I could take control of my health by exercising more, but I had the sense that wasn't going to make me feel better. I looked around the room. My eyes snagged on the pile of seashells that were still on my dresser. I walked over and picked one up. I tossed the shell into the air and caught it while I thought about it.

This was something I could tackle. I might as well take the lead. There were really only three options. Either Evie was intent on trying to send me a message, Dick was behind everything to get rid of me, or I was crazy. If neither of the first two options checked out, then I would have to go back to Dr. Mike and figure out what to do. My dad had done it. I could do it. I heard the crunch of gravel outside. I ran to the window and looked out just in time to see Nate pull his car into the drive. I yanked on a sweatshirt and grabbed my shoes and slipped down the stairs as fast as I could without making a sound. I paused in the foyer and listened. I could hear the murmur of the TV mixing
with the voices of my mom and Dick talking.

The front door opened. Nate stopped short when he saw me. His mouth widened into a smile.

“Hey.”

I pressed my fingers to his mouth and looked over my shoulder. The sounds from the family room didn't change. He took a step back and started to open his mouth again. I shook my head and slipped past him. I took a few steps and then motioned for him to follow me.

We walked down the driveway, staying close to the tree line in case anyone looked out the windows.

“Can you tell me what we're doing?” Nate whispered.

“I don't want our parents to overhear us.” We rounded the corner to the orchard, and I stopped. The moonlight was brighter here.

“Come here.” Nate pulled himself up into the nearest tree and perched on one of the branches.

I stood next to the tree and looked up at him. “Do you honestly think I can get myself up there? Do I look like Tarzan?”

“I keep forgetting you're from the city and never learned valuable survival skills like tree climbing.” He hung on to the trunk with one arm and leaned over. “Give me your hand.”

I reached up and he grabbed my arm and carefully pulled me into the tree. My legs spun like they were running up the trunk. The last guy I went out with, Josh, had been more of the creative type. He played guitar and wrote poetry. He and I used to make
fun of jocks, but I had to say there was something very nice about a guy who had some muscles. Something very nice indeed. I had to fight the urge to ask Nate to do it again, or bench-press a pear tree for me.

We each sat on one of the thick branches. I held on to the trunk with one arm to avoid falling. Apparently, in addition to muscles, Nate had an inner squirrel. He didn't have any trouble balancing in the tree, whereas I felt like I could fall out anytime.

“Your dad and I had a huge fight. I don't think he likes me.”

“Welcome to the club. I would tell you it's exclusive except the list of people my dad doesn't like is long. He hasn't liked me for years. If we had a few years, I'd tell you all the things I've done to disappoint him.”

“You dad does like you. In fact, he wants to protect you from me. He told me to not bother trying to get my claws into you and drag you down to my level.”

Nate laughed. “Bother. Definitely bother. I like the idea of you getting your claws into me.”

“You know who else wants to get her claws in you?”

“You mean other than you? Am I going to have to install one of those take a number machines for all the women chasing me?”