Escape Velocity by Robin Stevenson

Documents, Letters … I stop, about to pull out the Letters file, but then I notice the next file: Lou. The skin on the back of my neck prickles, and I shiver. I raise my hand to lift out the file, and just as my fingers touch it, I hear my mother’s key in the lock.
    I slam the drawer shut, twist the key out, and drop it back in her desk mere seconds before she steps into the apartment.
    She sees me standing at her desk and frowns. “What are you up to?”
    â€œLooking for a pen,” I say, picking one up and closing the drawer. I hope the key is in the right spot and that she won’t notice that anything has been disturbed. “I was doing some homework and mine ran out.”
    She relaxes. “Homework already?”
    â€œI know. I can’t believe it either. Pages and pages of stuff to read, a paper to write…” Relief is making me babble.
    â€œWell.” She looks at me.
    I stop babbling, and there is a long awkward silence. I can practically hear my heart beating and the image of that pale blue file folder with my name on it lingers so vividly in my mind that I’m almost surprised she can’t see it too.
    â€œHow was school?” she asks at last.
    â€œFine,” I say.
    â€œGood.”
    Another silence. Finally Zoe sighs. “Well, I suppose I should let you do your homework. I wasn’t planning to cook tonight. Do you mind helping yourself to something?”
    â€œI can cook. If you want.”
    She shakes her head. “I’m not really hungry.”
    The filing cabinet is pulling at me like a powerful magnet. It takes all my strength to keep my eyes from sliding sideways toward it. “So, are you staying home this evening?”
    She nods. “I have a grant proposal to finish. I’ve been procrastinating, but the deadline is coming up.”
    My heart sinks. No way I’ll be getting a look at that blue file tonight then.
    And then the phone rings and I forget the file. “That could be Dad,” I say.
    Zoe looks at me oddly, and I realize that I never told her he was having surgery today. She picks up the phone. “Hello?”
    I hold my breath.
    â€œI’m her mother,” Zoe says. “Can I help you?”
    Dad. The surgery. My hands are cold.
    Zoe’s eyebrows draw together in a frown. “His bypass surgery?” A long pause. “Uh-huh. Okay.”
    She is staring at me, and I can tell she’s furious that I didn’t tell her he was having surgery, but I don’t care. “Is he okay?” I whisper.
    She turns her back on me and speaks into the phone. “Right. Yes. Do you know when he’ll be able to go home?”
    I let my breath out in a long shaky sigh. The operation must have gone well if she’s asking that.
    â€œI see. Very well. Thank you for calling.” Zoe hangs up the phone and turns to me. “Your father had bypass surgery this morning.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI take it you already knew all about that? You didn’t think that perhaps you should have mentioned it to me?”
    Her words are clipped with anger, but I ignore her question. “Is he all right?”
    â€œHe’s fine. Sleeping, at the moment, the doctor said.”
    â€œDid they say when he can go home?”
    She shakes her head. “They don’t know yet. But Lou—”
    â€œI’m going to my room,” I say. “I have homework.”
    We stare at each other for a moment and then I turn away, walk to Zoe’s spare room and close the door behind me.
    I lie down on the bed and cry and cry, my face buried in the pillow to muffle the sound.

Fourteen
    W hen I wake up, it’s dark and I’m starving. I get up, open the door and listen for Zoe. I can’t hear anything. I hope she has gone out after all. Not just so I can snoop—though I have every intention of doing so—but because being around her feels like such a