Read Online Losing Faith by Denise Jaden - Free Book Online

heading for the kitchen. I’m not even sure I’m hungry, but I’ve barely eaten lately and I’ve been getting more and more dizzy since the burial. At first I assumed it was an emotional reaction, or a consequence of too much sleep, but now I’m wondering if it could just be lack of sustenance.
    “I’m busy,” he says, which doesn’t answer my question.
    I look in the fridge and the most obvious thing is a pizza box on the middle shelf. It’s not until I open it up and see the pineapple piled up on half of the remaining pieces that I realize how old it is. Faith was the only one in the family who liked pineapple. The thought of eating it, even if it isn’t filled with salmonella, makes me want to hurl. I dump the whole thing inthe garbage and cut up some cheese to go with a box of crackers from the cupboard. After making a plate up for Dad and one for myself, I push through the door into the living room.
    This time Dad’s not zoned out, but rather looks like he’s had too much caffeine. He picks up papers, places them down again. Grabs the phone and starts dialing, only to shut it off and drop it back onto the table. I watch from just inside the room as his behavior becomes more and more frantic.
    “Where’s Mom?” I finally walk over and place the plate of cheese and crackers beside his papers. Just as I do, he decides he needs that space to spread out his work and holds the plate up, darting his eyes around in frustration. Doesn’t seem like a hard problem, but it shocks me that Dad, of all people, can’t find the simple solution. “Here.” I take it and put it on a side table instead.
    Since he doesn’t seem able to answer my question about Mom—it’s pretty obvious she’s up in their room again anyway and besides, I was only trying to make conversation—I head back for the stairs.
    Being alone is just so much easier.
    Plan E: Somehow we all need to get back to normal.
    Monday the Jenkins Family of Three returns to real life. Dad looks like he’s been doing hard labor through the nightwhen he drags himself to the coffeemaker first thing in the morning. He spent the last five days taking care of all the remaining incidentals surrounding Faith’s death. It would probably have taken me a year to get around to contacting everyone affected, but Dad’s already called her optometrist, dentist, and schoolteachers, old and new. Taking care of all the details is obviously helping him get through it.
    His real job, Concord Financial Services, could do without him for another week I’m sure, but he’s pushing himself, getting back on that horse. And I understand how it would be easier to just think about numbers right now.
    I’ve tried all weekend to come up with a way to tell the church ladies to stop bringing us food. Mom needs to cook again. Cooking is numbers for her.
    And for me, numbers, I’ve decided, is school. I’d never admit it to anyone else, but I actually don’t mind school. Of course that wouldn’t be apparent from the amount of homework I’ve done this week. Each time I open my schoolbooks, all I can think of is how Faith will never spend another day in classes. She’ll never graduate, even though she was a good student. I want to keep up on my schoolwork, I do, but at the same time it almost doesn’t feel fair.
    Instead, I’ve spent most of my mind-numbing hours thinking about how I’ll act with Dustin when I go back.Amy and everyone else will be easy, business as usual, but I don’t want my boyfriend to think I’m a basket case and not know how to talk to me anymore. I practice phrases like “Hey, how’s it goin’?” and “Yeah, actually, I’m doing okay” in front of my mirror until I can pass them off without a flinch.
    But it’s far from business as usual at Sharon High Monday morning. It appears that way when I first step through the school doors, but then two kids near the entrance stop mid-conversation and stare. They go back to talking, but in nearly a