Fear of Falling by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

at all, like he’s too busy to notice Dad’s gone. He never even mentions Dad. But that’s partly because Brian’s hardly ever here anymore. After Dad left, Brian went out and got a job at the multiplex at the mall, and his job seems to take up most of his free time.
    And Mom? She doesn’t say much about Dad anymore either, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t thinking about him. I want to ask her what she’s thinking, but how does a twelve-year-old boy ask his mother for the lowdown on her marriage? I mean, I still have trouble talking to her about my math grades!
    So we all just go on pretending nothing’s wrong and waiting for Dad to come home… with Ashley running downstairs to look out the window every morning, as if she thinks Santa is going to leave Dad on our doorstep or something.
    â€œDon’t hold your breath, Ashley,” I mutter.
    â€œWhy not?” she asks, then immediately starts holding her breath, making a big show of how fat her cheeks are. That’s the kind of kid she is. Say “Don’t step in a puddle,” and she jumps in with both feet to find out why.
    Mom looks annoyed. “Ashley, stop that. Do you want to turn blue? Ashley—” Mom gives up and starts to load the dishwasher. “I guess she’ll breathe when she needs to.”
    A horn beeps outside, and Brian peers out the kitchen window. “It’s the guys, Mom. Gotta go.”
    â€œBrian—wait!” Mom says. “You haven’t eaten anything.”
    Brian digs into the cereal box for a handful of those bran buds, shoving them into his mouth as he heads out the door. “Yum!” he shouts over his shoulder. “You’re a great cook, Mom! See you guys at the parade.” And he’s gone.
    Mom shakes her head and turns back to the dishes.
    â€œI think it’s wrong to let Ashley go on believing Dad’s going to show up for Thanksgiving,” I mutter to Mom as I scrape back my chair and stand up.
    â€œDavid!” Mom whispers through clenched teeth, sending me a look that says, Watch what you say in front of Ashley.
    I shrug and carry my bowl to the sink. “Well, you know it’s true,” I whisper back. “Dad’s not too good about keeping promises anymore.”
    Mom sighs heavily. I guess she knows that even better than I do. “All right, David,” she says quietly. “I’m skeptical, too. But I’m going to keep an open mind, and I want you to do the same, at least around Ashley.”
    â€œOK, I guess.” I head into the hall to get my jacket. Inside the coat closet, Ashley’s backpack is half open on the floor. There’s a drawing poking out, done with colored markers. The drawing is of two goofy-eyed stick people. One is big with yellow hair. The smaller one is holding the big one’s hand. Across the top it says, “I lov yu Dady.”
    Suddenly I fight back a choked feeling in my throat. I used to have the same hope about Dad that Ashley does. I mean, we’re his kids, his family. How could he leave us and not come back?
    But the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. First the phone calls stopped. He was never good at writing letters, but he did e-mail us sometimes. Then even the e-mails stopped coming. Mom hasn’t said anything specific, but money is so tight now that I sometimes wonder if he’s stopped sending her checks, too.
    Thinking about Dad gives me that falling feeling—the one I have in the dream. Don’t go there, I tell myself. Just forget about it.
    A horn honks in the driveway, and I yank open the front door. Dr. Mac leans her head out of the van and waves. “Come on David, let’s go!”
    Yes! It’s time to ride.
    â€œSee ya, Mom,” I shout, then slam the door and leave all that other stuff behind.

    When we arrive at Quinn’s Stables, Brenna and Sunita are already there. Maggie, Zoe, and I pile out of Dr.