The Impossible Knife of Memory by Laurie Halse Anderson
Gerta, the guidance secretary, was completely covered by orange rubber fish scales. An enormous clam, opened to show a pearl inside it, sat on her head.
“No costume?” Gerta asked as I signed in.
“I’m going to wear something different tonight,” I said. “Right now I’m disguised as a rebellious, irritating teenager.”
“Very convincing. I hardly recognized you.”
Ms. Benedetti, dressed as an old-school, guaranteed-to-piss-off-the-Wiccans witch with a pointy hat, wart on the chin, cobwebs and plastic spiders nestled in her wig, opened her door.
“Ger-a agh-agh allowee,” she mumbled, beckoning me in and brushing aside the thick cobwebs that drooped from the ceiling. “Ome ee.”
I had to squeeze by an inflatable cauldron and step over life-sized plastic rats to get to the chair.
“I o oou own my—” Benedetti began.
“Ma’am.” I interrupted and pointed at her fake teeth. “Would you mind?”
“Oh.” She pulled out the teeth and took off her hat. “Feels so natural, after a while you forget you’re wearing them.”
It took all my strength, but I resisted the temptation to comment.
She pushed a plastic orange bowl across the desk. “Candy corn?”
I didn’t want to take anything from her, but my stomach overruled my head and I snagged a handful.
She waited until my mouth was full.
“Hayley, we have a bit of a problem.”
I stopped mid-chew, mind racing with the countless disasters that could follow an opening statement like that.
“I had a meeting with Mr. Cleveland,” she continued.
I started chewing again.
“He said he’d set you up with tutoring.”
I nodded, hoping she didn’t notice the blushing because my tutoring sessions no longer had anything to do with math.
“And yet your grade hasn’t improved at all.”
I shrugged and took another handful of candy.
“He said you had shown some interest in helping revive the school newspaper, but that has fallen by the wayside, too. In addition—”
“Did you tell my father about Trish?” I asked. “He said he talked to you.”
“We didn’t talk about Trish,” she said. “We discussed her concerns.”
“What were those, exactly?”
“Most had to do with your father’s unconventional approach to your homeschooling. He confirmed that he had not been entirely truthful about your lessons.”
“Was he angry?”
“Not at all. He simply asked if I thought you were struggling in any subjects. According to your teachers you haven’t had any problems with the material, with the exception of math, of course.”
“You said ‘most.’ What else?”
“In trying to understand the whole student, it’s helpful to have a picture of the larger family dynamic.”
“That sounds like a load of crap,” I said. “Did you ask Dad about this ‘dynamic’?”
“I tried.” She picked up a piece of candy corn with her fingernails. “I got the impression that you’d have more to say about that than your father.”
The final bell cut her off.
I jumped up. “Can we talk about this on Monday?”
“I imagine so.” The witch sighed and popped the candy in her mouth. “Be careful tonight.”
53
Our washer and dryer stood at the bottom of the basement steps. I led Gracie past them and opened the door to the rest of the basement.
“Whoa,” Gracie said. “It didn’t used to look like this.”
When we first moved in, Dad had spent an afternoon trying to deal with Gramma’s old stuff in the basement. I helped him until we got in a stupid argument about some ancient books of his. They stank of mold and I said we needed to throw them out and he’d yelled at me so I’d stormed out. This was the first time I’d ventured past the washer and dryer since then. It looked like Dad had stopped working as soon as I’d left.
“I swear to you this wasn’t here then,” Gracie said, pointing at the rickety metal shelving unit half filled with plastic tubs and cardboard boxes. “There was a little round table and three chairs, and a rug and a toy chest—”
“Knock it off, will you?” I asked. “You’re freaking me out. Your memory is unnatural. I bet you have a brain tumor or something.”
She stuck her tongue out at me. Her mood had been better since her parents had declared a temporary truce after their family therapist had threatened to quit.
“This is ridiculous,” I said. “We’ll never find anything. How about I just carry an open umbrella and say that I’m a rainstorm?”
“Such a pessimist.” Gracie pulled a bin from the shelf, set it on the ground, and opened it. “Eww! Old wigs and mouse poop.” Two bins later, she shrieked in triumph; she’d found our old dress-up clothes and a box of arts and crafts supplies that were free of rodent turds. I pointed out that we had grown a bit in the past decade and she called me an ungrateful bitch and we dumped everything on the floor and started pawing through it to figure out a costume for me.
“How about Sexy Princess?” Gracie asked, putting a bent tiara on her head.
“Absolutely not,” I said.
“Sexy Cowgirl?” Gracie held up a kid’s holster and six-shooter.
“I’d rather be warm than sexy,” I said, holding up an old shawl. “It’s going down to the twenties tonight.”
She rummaged in another bin. “Feathers!” she shouted triumphantly. “You could be Sexy Big Bird!”
“That’s disgusting,” I said.
Before she could reply, heavy footsteps hurried down the wooden stairs. My gut tightened.
“Dad?” I called.
He stopped in the doorway. “What are you two doing down here?”
“I need a Halloween costume,” I said quickly. “Gracie asked me to help her take her little brother trick or treating.”
“It’ll be supersafe,” Gracie added. “We’ll only go to the houses of people we know and—”
She stopped when my father held up his hand.
“That’s great, sounds like fun,” he said, “but where’s the vacuum cleaner?”
“What?” I asked.
“The vacuum cleaner,” he repeated. “I can’t find it. Or the thing you use to clean the toilet.”
“Toilet brush is in the holder in the garage. Vacuum cleaner is in my closet.”
“Thanks.” He studied the mess we’d made on the floor. “What time are you heading out?”
“I’ll make dinner before I go,” I promised.
“Don’t worry about that, I got it.”
“Remember, I’m spending the night at Gracie’s,” I said.
“I remember!” he called. “Have fun!”
“You can count on that!” Gracie whispered as she danced a few steps.
“Shh!” I warned. Finn’s mother had taken an unplanned trip to Boston because his dad had the flu. She wasn’t going to be home until Sunday night. Maybe Monday. So we had an empty house for the whole weekend.
“Hey!” Dad’s footsteps thudded back down the stairs, and his face poked around the corner. “No parties and you don’t go near the quarry, understood?”
“Of course it is, sir,” Gracie answered super sincerely. “My parents have the exact same rules.”
“Good,” Dad said. “Glad to hear it. You girls leaving soon?”
An alarm bell clanged in my head. Michael.
“I don’t know, Dad,” I said. “Maybe I should come back here. What if a million little kids show up or some idiots egg the house? It’ll drive you nuts. If I stay, you won’t have to deal with any of it.”
“You go,” he said firmly. “I’m having a friend come over for dinner. Between
Definitely Michael. My heart sank. Would it be better to spend the night here to make sure that creep did not cause a catastrophe or go to Finn’s and spend all night worrying?
“Mr. Kincain, do you have a date?” Gracie teased.
Instead of losing his temper or being rude, my father grinned and cleared his throat. “Well, maybe,” he said. “Maybe not. I’ll let you know tomorrow, how’s that?”
Dear gods above. Michael has hooked my father up with a skank piece of trash.
54
It took the rest of the afternoon, a raid on Mrs. Rappaport’s closet, and a cheeseburger (medium rare, spicy mustard, toasted bun), but by the time Finn and Topher got to Gracie’s house, I was costumed.
“Well?” Gracie asked the guys as she spun me around in the driveway. “What do you think?”
“Aaah,” Topher said, incapable of looking at anyone other than his girlfriend. Gracie’s Sexy Nurse costume had robbed him of the power of speech.
“Erm,” said Sherlock Finn, eyes wide. “Do I get three guesses?”
“If you say Sexy Big Bird, I will punch you in the throat,” I warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Finn said.
“Come on!” Iron Man, aka Garrett, grabbed his sister’s hand and pulled her down the driveway. Topher followed, his eyes still on Gracie.
“Come on, you guys,” Gracie called to us.
“In a minute,” I promised.
The wind was picking up, blowing hard enough to send the last of the leaves to the ground and make little tornadoes, the tiny funnels gathering speed and spinning down a street filling with superheroes, witches, and monsters who giggled as they ran from house to house, their bags already drooping with candy.
Finn waited for our friends to get a little farther away, then he drew me into the shadows. “I like the mask.”
I kissed him.
“The wings are cool, too,” he eventually said.
I’d woven an entire bag of feathers into an old shawl of my grandmother’s. Gracie had pinned the most colorful feathers in my hair. She’d also dug into her treasure chest of makeup and painted bold streaks of violet, gray, and turquoise around my eyes. Under the shawl, I was wearing black tights and a black football jersey of her dad’s that went down to my knees. As long as I kept my wings on, no one could see the name and numbers on the back of it.
The wind stirred my feathers. I touched the fat piece of amber-colored glass hanging around my neck. In the bottom of my grandmother’s jewelry box, it had looked like a garage sale leftover. In the half-light, with the wind gusting, it glowed, transforming me.
“This is a magic amulet,” I whispered into his ear. “I am an owl, bird of the night. I see everything. I know everything.”
“Do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Yes. Beware, boy, or I’ll turn you into a toad and eat you.”
* * *
We followed Garrett for hours: running up driveways, cutting through yards and gardens, begging him to share his loot and laughing as he found a million and one reasons why he wouldn’t. His Iron Man costume was one of the best out there, but I don’t think he cared. For a while, we walked with some of his buddies. Their parents wore costumes, too, video game characters and football players and vampires, lots of middle-aged vampires, some sipping from coffee to-go cups that did not have any coffee in them, given how often they tripped over their own feet.
Topher spent a while on the phone, lagging behind and talking into it so quietly I couldn’t hear what he was saying. Gracie gave him a dirty look when he caught up to us and pulled away when he tried to put his arm around her waist.
“What’s going on?” Finn asked.
“Party at the quarry is hot.” Topher kept his voice low enough that the parents ahead of us wouldn’t hear him.
“No,” Gracie said.
“The place doesn’t have ghosts,” Topher said. “I asked. But it does have Jell-O shots, dancing, and the possibility of a bong or two.”
“Nothing good happens there,” Gracie said. “I’m not going.”
“All those stories are exaggerated,” he said. “It’s just a way to get girls nervous so they’ll want their boyfriends to hold them tight.”
“Well, maybe you should find a different girl,” Gracie said.
All that magic in the air, squealing kids, spooky music, free candy, and those two had to fight. I was beginning to see signs of zombification in both of them, but Halloween was the wrong time to bring up the subject and, besides, I had better things to do.
Finn and I took advantage of every shadow to sneak in kisses. When thin-boned fingers of clouds raced over the moon, it felt like I could soar.
* * *
Gracie’s mom had given permission for Finn and Topher to hang out until midnight watching movies with us, so when Garrett’s bag was full, the four of us headed back toward the Rappaports’.
“I think you need some sweats,” Finn said for the fiftieth time. “You can’t claim to be a very wise owl if you get pneumonia.”
“I’m not just an owl, I am Athena.” I flapped dramatically, twirling so he wouldn’t see my teeth chatter. “Goddess of wisdom and weaving and weapons and cheeseburgers. Goddesses do not wear sweatpants.”
“They do when they’re in human form. I’m pretty sure it’s a Goddess Law.”
I sneezed. “Goddess Law? I am so using that.”
“I’m not kissing you again until you get something warmer.”
“How can you be boring and hot at the same time?”
We caught up with Gracie, Topher, and Iron Man and told them we were detouring past my house and would meet them in a few minutes. Finn insisted on draping his coat over my shoulders, and did it gently so I wouldn’t lose any feathers. The warmth felt better than I wanted to admit.
The rental car parked in the driveway brought me crashing back to Earth.
“Ugh,” I said. “My father has a date. Stay outside, okay? The sight of her might blind you.”
55
They froze, caught in the act of laughing.
A blue cloth covered the dining room table. Two long, white candles stood in the middle of it, flames jumping. A glass beer mug filled with grocery store flowers sat between the candles, next to matching salt- and pepper-shakers I’d never seen before. Music was playing from a phone at the end of the table, the crappy, soft oldies Dad hated.
My father stood quickly. The napkin that had been in his lap fluttered to the ground. “I thought you were sleeping at Gracie’s.”
“I need my sweatpants.”
He’d shaved. Found the iron, too, because his khakis didn’t have any wrinkles. Neither did his shirt, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. His old watch was strapped on his left wrist. He was wearing a tie, too, an honest-to-goodness tie, knotted with military precision.
I hit the switch to the left of the door and turned on the living room lights.
“Didn’t think you’d be home till tomorrow,” Dad said, blinking. “Yeah, um . . . well.”
Trish reached out and muted the phone.
Threat
“Why is she here?” My voice sounded like it came out of someone else’s mouth, someone calm, someone whose heart beat slowly.
Under the table, Spock whimpered.
“I invited her,” he said.
“Are you crazy?” I asked, still calm, though my hands were damp.
“Hello, Hayley.” Trish stood up, setting her napkin beside her plate. She took a few steps in my direction and stopped. “Wow. You look so grown-up.”
“Wow,” I said, calm, calm, calm. “You look old. No, not ‘old,’ that’s not the right word. ‘Diseased,’ maybe.”
“Whoa, princess.” Dad put his hands up as if he were being held at g
“Not necessary?” I asked. “When did this happen, this invitation? Was it before or after you told me she was coming? Oh, wait. You didn’t tell me, did you?”
The polite mask fell off his face. Adrenaline shot into my heart.
“You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d say ‘Trish? The drunk who abandoned us?’”
There was a knock at the front door.
The snake opened her mouth. “Hayley,” she said, “you have to give me a chance.”
“I don’t have to give you shit!”
“Enough!” Dad’s voice shook the walls.
The noise in my head was so loud I barely heard him. I had crossed the floor. I was in her face. “Get out now or I’m calling the cops.”
The knock sounded again. Spock headed for the door as it opened.
“Excuse me,” Finn said. “It’s just . . . you were yelling. Everything okay?”
“We’re fine,” Dad said.
“Miss Blue?” Finn asked.
Assess
Trish hadn’t flinched. She met my gaze, having to look up a bit because I was taller than she was. She wore contacts instead of glasses. Concealer that couldn’t hide the dark circles under her eyes, hair dyed a flat brown with faded highlights. Her blush stood out like stop signs on her cheeks because all the color had drained from her face.
The front door closed. Finn’s footsteps and then his voice, “Hello, Mr. Kincain. I’m Finn, remember? We met a couple weeks ago.”
“What are you doing here?” Dad asked him.
Trish stepped around me and walked up to Finn, her hand outstretched. “My name is Trish Lazarev,” she said. “I’m an old friend of the family.”
Finn shook her hand. “Finnegan Ramos, ma’am, new friend of the family.”
“You told me you’d be with Gracie and her brother,” Dad said.
“We were. We were just calling it a night,” Finn said. “I walked Hayley home because she was cold.”
“You’re cold ’cause you’re not wearing any goddamn pants,” Dad said to me.