her distance from Odessa as she speedily dialed her mother’s cell phone.
Voice mail.
“Have a seat,” she said to Odessa. “We have to wait to hear back from your mommy.”
Mommy. How embarrassing. Did this nurse realize she was in the fourth grade?
“I can’t wait,” Odessa said. “I have to go home NOW.”
“I’ve left a message. I’m sure she’ll call back when she gets it.”
“But,” Odessa said, “I’m running out of time.”
The nurse looked puzzled. How could Odessa make this woman understand? She had to get home so that she could jump back and give Oliver the answer.
Then … it came to her. Sometimes there’s another solution right under your nose, but you fail to see it because you’re too focused on the obvious.
“If you can’t reach my mother,” Odessa said, “can you call my father?”
The nurse nodded wisely, as if this were an unusually brilliant idea. She checked Odessa’s file, and dialed.
Odessa knew Dad would answer. He always had his BlackBerry within arm’s reach.
The nurse hung up. “He’s on his way.”
Odessa’s heart soared. It wasn’t that she’d be able to beat the clock, it was that Dad, with all his markets and stocks and trading and his new apartment and his new almost-wife, still could make time for her. His sick kid.
Or his fake-sick kid.
When she climbed into his car, he handed her a bottle of ginger ale and one of her favorite magazines. He put on 101.3, the station she and Jennifer both loved. Odessa was in a hurry, but still, she wished the drive would last forever. She tilted her seat back a little. Dad took her hand.
Just then the next wrinkle in her plan occurred to her.
“Dad,” she said. “You need to take me home.”
“Where do you think I’m taking you? I’m taking you home, so you can rest up and feel better.”
Odessa swallowed. “No, Dad, I mean home. To Mom’s house.”
Dad pulled the car over to the side of the road. He reached into his glove compartment and took out a roll of his minty tummy tablets.
“My apartment is your home too.” He turned to face her. “I know you don’t spend as much time there as you do at your mother’s, but that’s because of our schedules and my work, and we’re just trying to make things easier for you and Oliver. That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t feel like you are at home with Jennifer and me.”
Why’d he have to look like he’d just lost his favorite hamster? And why’d he have to say Jennifer’s name?
Odessa stared straight ahead, out the windshield of the car that wasn’t moving. Even though it was her favorite station, a song she didn’t like played on the radio.
“I know, Dad. It’s just that I really need to go to Mom’s house. The Green House. I need to go to my room. My own room. My attic room. Please. I know you don’t understand, but I really need to go there. Can you take me there?”
“Your mother is at work. I don’t have a key.”
“Mrs. Grisham has a key. We can borrow hers.”
“Wait here,” Dad said. He climbed out of the car with his BlackBerry and paced up and down the sidewalk with it pressed to his ear.
“Fine,” he said as he started the car engine. “I talked to your mother. I’ll wait there with you until she gets home.”
Odessa’s feet felt heavy as she climbed the stairs to the attic. She told Dad she was just going upstairs to change into pajamas.
It was so nice to have him there. He was in his regular seat on their couch, waiting to start a movie on pay-per-view, one of the stupid comedies they loved watching together. It felt almost normal to see him there. She could imagine all four of them together, in this new house.
She didn’t miss her old house. She just missed her dad.
She looked at her clocks.
12:47
The assembly started at nine. She had some time to spare. Just enough for a movie she’d seen a billion times before.
She ran downstairs.
“What happened to your pajamas?” Dad asked.
She threw her
Voice mail.
“Have a seat,” she said to Odessa. “We have to wait to hear back from your mommy.”
Mommy. How embarrassing. Did this nurse realize she was in the fourth grade?
“I can’t wait,” Odessa said. “I have to go home NOW.”
“I’ve left a message. I’m sure she’ll call back when she gets it.”
“But,” Odessa said, “I’m running out of time.”
The nurse looked puzzled. How could Odessa make this woman understand? She had to get home so that she could jump back and give Oliver the answer.
Then … it came to her. Sometimes there’s another solution right under your nose, but you fail to see it because you’re too focused on the obvious.
“If you can’t reach my mother,” Odessa said, “can you call my father?”
The nurse nodded wisely, as if this were an unusually brilliant idea. She checked Odessa’s file, and dialed.
Odessa knew Dad would answer. He always had his BlackBerry within arm’s reach.
The nurse hung up. “He’s on his way.”
Odessa’s heart soared. It wasn’t that she’d be able to beat the clock, it was that Dad, with all his markets and stocks and trading and his new apartment and his new almost-wife, still could make time for her. His sick kid.
Or his fake-sick kid.
When she climbed into his car, he handed her a bottle of ginger ale and one of her favorite magazines. He put on 101.3, the station she and Jennifer both loved. Odessa was in a hurry, but still, she wished the drive would last forever. She tilted her seat back a little. Dad took her hand.
Just then the next wrinkle in her plan occurred to her.
“Dad,” she said. “You need to take me home.”
“Where do you think I’m taking you? I’m taking you home, so you can rest up and feel better.”
Odessa swallowed. “No, Dad, I mean home. To Mom’s house.”
Dad pulled the car over to the side of the road. He reached into his glove compartment and took out a roll of his minty tummy tablets.
“My apartment is your home too.” He turned to face her. “I know you don’t spend as much time there as you do at your mother’s, but that’s because of our schedules and my work, and we’re just trying to make things easier for you and Oliver. That doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t feel like you are at home with Jennifer and me.”
Why’d he have to look like he’d just lost his favorite hamster? And why’d he have to say Jennifer’s name?
Odessa stared straight ahead, out the windshield of the car that wasn’t moving. Even though it was her favorite station, a song she didn’t like played on the radio.
“I know, Dad. It’s just that I really need to go to Mom’s house. The Green House. I need to go to my room. My own room. My attic room. Please. I know you don’t understand, but I really need to go there. Can you take me there?”
“Your mother is at work. I don’t have a key.”
“Mrs. Grisham has a key. We can borrow hers.”
“Wait here,” Dad said. He climbed out of the car with his BlackBerry and paced up and down the sidewalk with it pressed to his ear.
“Fine,” he said as he started the car engine. “I talked to your mother. I’ll wait there with you until she gets home.”
Odessa’s feet felt heavy as she climbed the stairs to the attic. She told Dad she was just going upstairs to change into pajamas.
It was so nice to have him there. He was in his regular seat on their couch, waiting to start a movie on pay-per-view, one of the stupid comedies they loved watching together. It felt almost normal to see him there. She could imagine all four of them together, in this new house.
She didn’t miss her old house. She just missed her dad.
She looked at her clocks.
12:47
The assembly started at nine. She had some time to spare. Just enough for a movie she’d seen a billion times before.
She ran downstairs.
“What happened to your pajamas?” Dad asked.
She threw her
Similar Books
