Fault Lines (8 page)

I thought I might explode right there.

“What did Mr. Reiber do?” Todd said.

I took a deep breath and blew it out. I wanted to explode and be gone, but no such luck. “Nothing, just forget it. It’s a long story and it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s done.”

“Well, if he split up your parents, why don’t we do something about it?”

The faint glow of a streetlight softened Todd’s face, and I suddenly saw him clearer than ever. Long eyelashes under his uncut hair. Full movie-star lips. Cheekbones jutting out. He was cute enough that he should have been running after Taylor instead of me.

“What are you talking about?” I said. “What would we do?”

He smiled and his eyes crinkled. “I don’t know, but I could think of something to make him pay.”

Make him pay
. Those words were all I heard.
Yes, make him pay for all he’s done.
Nothing from my dog trainer voice. Not a peep from my good side.

I was unleashed.

now

ready, AIM, fire

Mom’s already seated in the waiting area of the school’s counseling office when I arrive at the end of the day for my “post-arrest review.” I sit two seats over. Dad leans against the opposite wall. He tries to smile at me, then looks straight-faced at the clock. 3:10.

The door to the counselors’ small meeting room is closed, and a sign hangs on the outside that reads “AIM meeting in progress.”

I’ve heard of AIM, also known as Academic Investment Matters, but I’ve never had a meeting before. All I know that happens is problem kids and their parents listen while teachers list their bad behavior.

At least I hope all we do is listen. I hope Mom and Dad don’t speak. They’re not so good at anything but arguing anymore.

My gray-haired counselor, Mrs. Vernon, opens the door. She’s tiny, but students and teachers alike call her General V. “Are the Burkharts here? Please, come in.”

We enter to the stares of all my teachers except Mrs. Luna, and I can breathe again in her absence. Thank God she’s missing. She won’t be here to say the one thing I don’t want Mom and Dad to know, what happened with Ricky York, the boy in the play, the day that turned into the night that Creeper’s window got broken.

“Have a seat,” Mrs. Vernon says, motioning to three chairs on one side of a table, facing my accusers.

Mom and Dad pick the two outside ones, so I’m in the middle.

Mrs. Vernon sits at the corner. “We’re here today at the request of the Juvenile Court, to prepare a report for Danielle’s upcoming court appearance. In addition, we need to develop strategies for improving her school performance. Before we begin with each teacher, can either of you shed any light on the situation?”

She’s looking from Dad to Mom, skipping over me.

The door opens. Mrs. Luna peeks in before sliding through and slipping into the nearest chair. “So sorry to be late.”

My stomach turns.

“Yes,” Mrs. Vernon says, looking over the top of her glasses at Mrs. Luna. “I was just asking Danielle’s parents to share any pertinent information with us.”

Dad clears his throat, but Mom answers. “We’re going through a divorce.”

The teachers nod and look at me. I flush.

“And selling our home, and getting rid of her dog,” Dad adds angrily, looking past me at Mom.

Silence. Please God, strike me dead. Don’t let them launch into a fight here.

“All right then,” Mrs. Vernon says. “Let’s get started with Mr. Fritz, who let me know in advance that he needs to leave early. He has only a few minutes to talk about Danielle’s performance in computer class.”

The Ditz talks fast and doesn’t say much. There’s no homework in computers, he explains, and it’s pretty straightforward work in class. My grade remains a B in there, he says before leaving.

It’s hard to listen. I’m waiting.

Mrs. Vernon is the director of this show. She steps in to introduce each teacher every time one finishes talking. She tells them what pattern to follow. Positive stuff first, then negative, plus when the change happened and how it can be reversed. It’s obvious she wants to punish Mrs. Luna for being late, because she skips past her in the movement around the table. Saving the worst for last.

“And finally today, we’ll conclude with Mrs. Luna, who has perhaps had the most interaction with Danielle as both her English teacher and director of the freshman play. Mrs. Luna, what can you add?”

“Well, Dani’s grade has fallen in my class as well,” Mrs. Luna says. “It’s plummeted to a D in just a matter of weeks, and it’s very sad. She had always contributed such wonderful ideas in class discussions. She’d been doing so well with her work. Now she sits there looking… I don’t know…
lost
. That’s what I mean. Like she doesn’t know where she is or which way to go.”

“And how is she doing in the play?” Mrs. Vernon asks.

Everyone’s eyes are on me like spotlights angling from all directions. I watch my hands rubbing together.

Mrs. Luna hesitates, breathing in sharply and blowing it out in a huff. I wish she’d just rip off the Band-Aid.
Go ahead. Mom and Dad already know I’m rotten. Feel free to confirm it.

“I can’t add anything to what’s already been said,” Mrs. Luna says, “except that I’m deeply concerned.”

Nothing about that day with Ricky. I don’t make eye contact with her, or anyone. I’m memorizing the swirls in the fake wood table top. I just want to be done, but Mrs. Vernon keeps talking, explaining how she’ll type up her notes and send a copy to Mom and Dad along with the court.

“Excuse me,” Mrs. Luna says. “I’d like to speak with Danielle alone. Could you finish up with her parents in your office, Mrs. Vernon?”

The other teachers stand to leave. So do Mom and Dad, but Mrs. Vernon sits there. No one wants to leave without her command.

“Please,” Mrs. Luna says.

“Meet me in my office, Mr. and Mrs. Burkhart.”

The room empties, and the door closes. Mrs. Luna moves to the chair next to me. “Dani, I had no idea what was going on with you at home. I wish you would’ve told me, because I care about you. I care very much. Maybe I can help.”

I’m beyond help now. Doesn’t she know that?

“You’ve had an atomic bomb drop right in your back yard,” she says. “I know it’s devastating. But now you’ve got to get started folding cranes. Metaphorically speaking, if you know what I mean. You’ve got to find hope.”

Maybe she could have used a better example than folding cranes to make her point. Doesn’t she remember the little girl dies at the end of the play? That her friends finish folding cranes to make her wish come true?

Who’s left to fold my cranes?

The fact is if Mrs. Luna wants to talk about metaphors, that bonfire at Derek’s was the perfect image to start off my post-dad life.

then

the bonfire was just beginning

The morning after the bonfire, I found out the truth about Mike and Taylor. He was shut in his bedroom with the hip-hop music cranked. I banged on the door, and he turned the volume down before opening up.

“I heard something unbelievable about you and Taylor,” I said, looking into his blank eyes, desperate to see the answer I wanted. “You two aren’t going out, are you?”

He leaned into his door frame. “None of your business. Just leave her alone. I heard what you did, and you better lay off.”

“Did you hear what she said to Justine?”

“Yeah, I heard she made a joke, and you flipped out like a psycho. And if it happens again, you’ll answer to me.”

Me, answer? “And who’ll you answer to? For selling your soul?” I said.

He slammed the door in my face but then flung it open again. “Oh, and lose Todd Gurganus. Trust me, he’s not your BFF.”

I walked away. “Save it for someone who cares.”

We must’ve torn a page from Mom and Dad’s book, because we went from screaming at each other to ignoring each other’s existence completely – with the smoldering silence destroying as much as the shouting.

The only good thing to happen that week was watching Taylor drop out of drama club. She didn’t get a part in
A Thousand Cranes
, and she made a big dramatic scene of announcing she didn’t want to work offstage. Best news ever.

The less great news: I got the Grandmother part, and my ex-bestie Maddy Miskowski got Sadako. That meant we’d be spending lots of time together in rehearsals, and we’d even be forced to hold hands at one point during the play.

Plus Ricky York got his little speaking part, and he didn’t improve at all during lunchtime read-throughs.

At the end of the week, Dad had scheduled our first “visit” with him for all day Saturday and part of Sunday. Mike wasn’t going – had some football excuse – so it was just me and Bobby.

It all made me prime to go after Creeper. Todd and Derek and me planned it out for Friday night. We all did it that first time when he wasn’t home, with just soap and eggs, but I made sure to get all my aggression out on those windows so they were completely covered.

The next morning Mom backed out of the driveway real slow, watching Creeper on a ladder with a hose and bucket cleaning up the dried gunk.

“Someone vandalized Mr. Reiber’s house,” Mom said as she turned the car into the road and shifted into drive. “How terrible.”

She didn’t say anything else for the ten-minute drive to Grandma’s. She stared out the windshield with a glazed auto-pilot look.

Grandma and Dad acted happy when Mom dropped us off. Grandma’s apartment door flew open and they came out all smiles like they hadn’t seen us in ten years and we’d just crossed the ocean in a row boat to get there.

I plopped on the couch and flicked on the TV. I could hear Bobby in the kitchen, telling Dad about school, all excited about the two of them making lunch together.

Grandma picked our coats off the floor and held them over her arms, staring at me. I ignored her. I didn’t want to talk. Even she couldn’t make everything OK now.

When she opened her mouth, I jumped in first. “I can hang those up. I’m sorry we left them on the floor.”

She dropped them on a chair. “I’m not worried about the coats, Sweetheart.” She sat down on the couch and took the TV remote from my lap. “Do you mind?” she asked, holding it up in front of me.

“I guess not,” I said, but I kept staring at the TV even after it went black.

“I’m worried about
you
.”

She stroked my hair, but I felt like pulling away and shutting myself up in my bedroom – if I had one there.

“You’ve been dealing with so much lately,” she said. “It’s fine if you’re not ready to talk about it, but I’m here to tell you that I’m ready whenever you are.

“No one expects this to be easy,” she said. “I just want you to know that I’m aware how difficult it is. Not only the divorce, but moving, these visits, Justine’s dad, losing Barney.”

I flinched when she said Barney’s name. She was quiet for a moment. Then she tried a different route to get me talking. “It doesn’t seem fair to lose such a good friend in Barney, right when you need him the most.”

I give her credit; she was good, but I wasn’t going to spill. “Mmm,” I grunted, trying to act bored with the whole conversation.

She must have seen she was getting nowhere, because she switched gears again. “There’s something I think we need to do.” She slapped both hands on her knees and stood up. “Come with me.”

I didn’t want to, but my legs got up and followed her into the dining room where she sat down at the table with her iPad. She opened Google and typed in the search “finding a new home for a dog.”

“Have a seat,” she said, so I sat at the seat next to her. “We can’t wait until the last minute and do nothing about Barney, because that will just make it worse.”

Bobby wandered in from the kitchen to see if anything fun was going on. He stood next to her chair. “What are you doing?” he said as the results of Grandma’s search popped up on the screen.

She turned in the chair and took his hand. “I don’t want Barney to end up in a shelter, Love. There are a lot of resources out there to help find a good home, but you have to give it time. We need to get started now so we can find him the very best possible place.”

I felt a smoldering anger in my chest. Why the rush? We’d only had two people look at our house and nobody had even come close to buying it.

Grandma turned back to the screen and clicked on a website. She explained all these tips she’d found, about on-line classified ads where people shop for pets to adopt, but also about how veterinarians sometimes know people looking for a dog, and how you should post flyers advertising the dog everywhere that pet owners shop.

“For the flyers and the internet classifieds, the key is to get a really great picture and write a wonderful description of Barney,” Grandma said. “I can help you with that, but we should start putting it together.”

The smoldering in my chest turned to flames, a raging inferno fed by gasoline.

“Forget it!” I yelled, and Bobby and Grandma both jumped back a little. “I’m not doing any flyers! Ever! I’ll just take Barney and run as far as I can get from this place! And never come back!”

I stood there with my hands on my hips and Grandma looking into my eyes like she could see the fire.

“I know,” she said. “That’s tempting, isn’t it.”

Grandma paused and Bobby tapped her on the shoulder, whispering as if I couldn’t hear, “You know, if she yelled like that at Mom, she’d be in big trouble.”

Grandma smiled and hugged him. “You’re right, Bobby, it isn’t nice to yell.”

“Especially at your grandma,” he said and glared at me.

“At anyone, it’s not nice. But sometimes, your feelings can get so big and out of control that things happen you don’t mean to happen.”

Dad stuck his head in the room. “Everything all right in here?” he asked.

“Just fine,” Grandma said. “Bobby, you go with Daddy. I need to talk with Danielle.”

She leaned toward me with her elbows on her knees, still in the dining room chair. “I’m going to loan you my digital camera, and I know when you calm down, you’ll do the right thing.”

I kept my face blank and tried to snuff out the fire so she’d stop talking to me. She walked across the room to a big cabinet, opened a drawer, pulled out the camera, and handed it to me. “Go put this in your bag right now, so you’ll have it when you get back home.”