I knock at room 208. Mrs. LeBlanc answers the door. “Oui?”
I lean forward and whisper, “Sorry—but I need to speak with Colin MacPherson.”
Students aren’t supposed to interrupt classes, but Mrs. LeBlanc knows who I am. She gives me a sympathy smile—the type I’ve been dreading—and says, “One moment…”
She pushes the door open. “Colin M. You have a visitor…”
The whole class turns and looks at me. Some of them put their hands over their mouths and whisper. I feel like one of those prisoners they used to chain up in the public square.
Colin has a strange look on his face. He must know how upset I am. He fumbles with stuff on his desk for a second, and then he gets up and starts walking toward me. He’s halfway across the room when Jared Luongo screams out, “Hey, Ria. Looks like your dad finally got what he deserved!”
There’s a moment of confusion when everyone gasps and chairs screech and Mrs. LeBlanc tries to restore some kind of order.
I don’t know what I expect Colin to do. Pound the guy? Run to me? Murmur something soothing in my ear like, “Don’t listen to him. He’s a jerk”?
I don’t know what I expect—but anything would have been better than what he does.
He hesitates.
“Colin?” I’m so shocked I can barely make the word come out.
He takes three steps toward me and stops, just out of arm’s length.
He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t have to.
I know immediately that he’s heard the stories. That he’s believed them. That he’s chosen them over me.
I stand there with my mouth open, my eyes desperately scanning the room for another explanation. That’s when I see Helena. I forgot she’s in this class. I feel a little twitter of hope—but she picks up her pen and starts writing in her notebook.
She can’t even look at me.
I turn and race down the hall. A door opens, and Mr. Goldfarb says, “No running in the…” He sees it’s me and slips back into his classroom.
He knows too.
Everybody knows.
I keep running until I get to the LeSabre.
The whole way home, all I can think about is Colin. I can’t believe he’d do this to me—do this to Dad! I feel so betrayed and hurt and angry—but then it’s as if some acid trickles into my brain. I see the words multimillion-dollar scam, and just for a second I imagine the MacPhersons losing everything they own because of something my father did.
I feel like I’m in a horror movie and there’s some maniac waiting for me behind every door.
I just want to get home—whatever that means. I push my foot to the floor and gun it.
I haven’t even turned onto our street, and already I see at least four media vans camped outside our house. I can’t face them. I take a hard turn to the left and park the next street over. I sit there stunned for at least an hour, too scared to move. Kids are going to be coming home from school soon. They’re going to look at the car. They’ll look at me. I get out and sneak home the back way, through a neighbor’s yard. The neighbor sees me from her dining room window and waves.
I wave back. She obviously doesn’t believe the stories.
Or she hasn’t heard them yet.
Mom is sitting with Elliot at the kitchen table while he eats his after-school snack. She stands up when I walk in the door. It’s weirdly formal. It’s scary.
She says, “Ria, I’m glad you’re back,” but she doesn’t look glad at all.
“There’s something I need to talk to you and Elliot about.” She sits down and pats the chair so that I’ll sit down too.
I don’t like the sound of this. She’s going to say something about Dad. I can tell. I want to yell at her—I would yell at her—but Elliot is here, looking so cute and innocent and almost happy, eating his oatmeal cookie.
I hold my purse in my lap as if I’m ready to bolt at any moment.
“You may have noticed the vans outside,” she says.
“Yes!” shouts Elliot. This is a major event for him. “Live at Five! Just like on tv. I can hardly wait to tell my teacher!”
Mom reaches out and ruffles his hair. “Hmm. Honey, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
That confuses Elliot. His teacher loves Live at Five!
“Why?” he says.
Mom ignores him. He holds his cookie so tightly, a big piece breaks off, and he doesn’t even pick it up.
Mom’s lips smile. “In many ways, your father was a wonderful man… He certainly loved you both very, very much.”
I know it’s coming.
“But there are some things about him you should probably know.” She clears her throat. “He was a stockbroker. That means that people gave him their money to invest for them.”
Elliot’s eyes are huge. He’s trying really hard to be good, to understand.
“What does ‘invest’ mean?”
She explains it to him. I know I only have a minute. She’ll tell him what “invest” means, and then she’ll tell him what “multimillion-dollar scam” means.
She’s going to tell Elliot our father is a criminal. I know she is. That’s what she wants. She’ll turn his own son against him. There will be no one but me to believe Dad anymore.
“Daddy buys companies for people?” Elliot says. “I don’t get it.”
Mom looks away, trying to come up with another way to explain the stock market to a five-year-old.
“Excuse me,” I say. “I know this is important—but could we talk about it later? Colin wants to take Elliot and me rock climbing at the Great Wall this afternoon.”
Elliot starts bouncing up and down in his seat. “Yeah! Yeah! We’re going to the climbing wall!”
Mom doesn’t know what to do. I can see that. Her little talk isn’t going as well as she planned, and there’s no way Elliot will be in any state to listen now.
She sighs. She rubs both hands over her elbows and says, “When will you be back?”
“He wanted to take us out for burgers too”—more squeals of delight from Elliot—“so I doubt we’ll be home before eight, eight thirty.”
Mom knows when she’s beat.
“Okay, Elliot. But you’ve got to take your medicine before you can go.”
Normally, Elliot hates using his asthma puffer, but this time he practically swallows it. I don’t waste any time stuffing him into his shoes and sweater. We’re out the door in three minutes.
Elliot thinks we’re scrambling over the back fence because we’re practicing for the climbing wall.