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Authors: Katie Finn
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realizing who he was, seeing Hallie
again— were too big to be contained in the house, massive as
it was.
I headed down the stairs, feeling like I should have taken a
compass, or a map, to guide myself back to the kitchen. Luckily, I
didn’t have to worry about being quiet, even though it was after
ten. Bruce— and as a result, my dad and Rosie as well— kept West
Coast time even when in New York, so that they would be around
to talk to people in California well into the night.
The kitchen was quiet, no sign of Bruce trying to sneak non-
caveman food. So there was nobody to have to explain to as I pushed
out through the back door, walking past the darkened pool house,
then the pool, lit with underwater lights. I kicked off my fl ip-
fl ops and dipped a toe in as I passed. It was just slightly heated,
the perfect pool temperature. I walked down the steps that led to
the dunes, then out the gate and onto the sand, the path lined
with beach grass, fi nding my way by moonlight. In no time, I was
at the water’s edge, the moon huge above me, the beach deserted
and all mine.
—-1
I sat on the sand and looked out at the water. I was back in the
—0
—+1
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Hamptons. I was staying in a new place, with a new haircut. I
was infi nitely wiser and more experienced than I had been the
last time I’d been there.
But it was becoming abundantly clear that the mistakes I’d
made— and the people I thought I’d left behind— hadn’t actually
gone anywhere.
-1—
0—
+1—
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CHAPTER 6
T hat summer seemed ill- fated right from the start.
On the last day of fi fth grade, my dad picked me up from
school. This wasn’t so unusual, since the afternoons were prime
house- showing times for my mom. Normally my dad was writ-
ing, but he had been suffering from writer’s block recently—
something that, even at eleven, I was sure wasn’t helped by my
mom commenting on it, with loud sighs, at dinnertime.
The only clue I had that something out of the ordinary was
happening was when he took me from school directly to Gofer Ice
Cream and told me I could get what ever I wanted. This raised my
suspicions immediately. My father had recently gone on a health
kick, declaring refi ned sugar to be of the dev il, and the thing that
was interfering with his creative pro cess. So I could barely taste
my vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles because of the way my
dad was looking at me— desperately, and not just for my refi ned
sugar. It was like he wanted to watch me having one last happy
—-1
memory before everything crumbled. Needless to say, this made
—0
—+1
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 59
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me lose my appetite, and I threw away most of the cone before it
had even started melting.
My mom was waiting for us when we got home, and for the
fi rst time I understood what an ambush felt like. She and my dad
sat me down at the kitchen table, one of them on either side of
me. They told me that they were separating, that they weren’t
getting divorced, they just needed to take some time apart. But
they still loved me, and always would. They went on to say other
things— about logistics, and how I would spend the fi rst two weeks
of the summer with my mom, and the rest of it away with my dad,
who was going to teach a writing workshop in the Hamptons.
But I wasn’t really listening to any of this. Instead, I was holding
on to the one sentence that was all I wanted to hear— it was just a
separation, and they weren’t getting a divorce .
My dad left for his workshop, and I spent the next two weeks
with my mother, in denial and trying to pretend that my dad
was just away on a business trip, like my friends’ fathers— the ones
who didn’t work
again— were too big to be contained in the house, massive as
it was.
I headed down the stairs, feeling like I should have taken a
compass, or a map, to guide myself back to the kitchen. Luckily, I
didn’t have to worry about being quiet, even though it was after
ten. Bruce— and as a result, my dad and Rosie as well— kept West
Coast time even when in New York, so that they would be around
to talk to people in California well into the night.
The kitchen was quiet, no sign of Bruce trying to sneak non-
caveman food. So there was nobody to have to explain to as I pushed
out through the back door, walking past the darkened pool house,
then the pool, lit with underwater lights. I kicked off my fl ip-
fl ops and dipped a toe in as I passed. It was just slightly heated,
the perfect pool temperature. I walked down the steps that led to
the dunes, then out the gate and onto the sand, the path lined
with beach grass, fi nding my way by moonlight. In no time, I was
at the water’s edge, the moon huge above me, the beach deserted
and all mine.
—-1
I sat on the sand and looked out at the water. I was back in the
—0
—+1
S 57 T
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 57
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 57
10/2/13 7:32 AM
10/2/13 7:32 AM
Hamptons. I was staying in a new place, with a new haircut. I
was infi nitely wiser and more experienced than I had been the
last time I’d been there.
But it was becoming abundantly clear that the mistakes I’d
made— and the people I thought I’d left behind— hadn’t actually
gone anywhere.
-1—
0—
+1—
S 58 T
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 58
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 58
10/2/13 7:32 AM
10/2/13 7:32 AM
CHAPTER 6
T hat summer seemed ill- fated right from the start.
On the last day of fi fth grade, my dad picked me up from
school. This wasn’t so unusual, since the afternoons were prime
house- showing times for my mom. Normally my dad was writ-
ing, but he had been suffering from writer’s block recently—
something that, even at eleven, I was sure wasn’t helped by my
mom commenting on it, with loud sighs, at dinnertime.
The only clue I had that something out of the ordinary was
happening was when he took me from school directly to Gofer Ice
Cream and told me I could get what ever I wanted. This raised my
suspicions immediately. My father had recently gone on a health
kick, declaring refi ned sugar to be of the dev il, and the thing that
was interfering with his creative pro cess. So I could barely taste
my vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles because of the way my
dad was looking at me— desperately, and not just for my refi ned
sugar. It was like he wanted to watch me having one last happy
—-1
memory before everything crumbled. Needless to say, this made
—0
—+1
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 59
105-56018_ch01_3P.indd 59
10/2/13 7:32 AM
10/2/13 7:32 AM
me lose my appetite, and I threw away most of the cone before it
had even started melting.
My mom was waiting for us when we got home, and for the
fi rst time I understood what an ambush felt like. She and my dad
sat me down at the kitchen table, one of them on either side of
me. They told me that they were separating, that they weren’t
getting divorced, they just needed to take some time apart. But
they still loved me, and always would. They went on to say other
things— about logistics, and how I would spend the fi rst two weeks
of the summer with my mom, and the rest of it away with my dad,
who was going to teach a writing workshop in the Hamptons.
But I wasn’t really listening to any of this. Instead, I was holding
on to the one sentence that was all I wanted to hear— it was just a
separation, and they weren’t getting a divorce .
My dad left for his workshop, and I spent the next two weeks
with my mother, in denial and trying to pretend that my dad
was just away on a business trip, like my friends’ fathers— the ones
who didn’t work
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