and partly because she felt odd talking to them, knowing that their relationship wasn’t what she’d always believed it to be. Every time she’d start to call them Mom or Dad, she’d stop and think, then lose her train of thought. Even so, she wasn’t so upset that she couldn’t be reasonable; she told them about the party at dinner on Halloween.
“It’s tonight,” she said. “He lives on Jefferson Street. It starts at seven thirty.”
Kyle looked up from his plate. “I’ve heard about that party. I was thinking I might stop by.”
“Will Jak’s parents be there?” asked their father.
Tamisin shrugged. “I guess.”
Their mother looked up from pouring another glass of milk for Petey. “Who else is going?”
“Heather … And probably Jeremy Johnson. He hangs out with Jak a lot.”
“Good kid, Jeremy,” said Kyle. “Knows how to handle a football.”
“So do I!” said Petey. “Want to see?” The little boy began to push back his chair, but his brother stopped him.
“Later, sport,” Kyle said, ruffling Petey’s hair.
Their mother frowned and set down her napkin. “Your father and I have never met Jak or his parents. We need to know more about them and if they’re going to be home.”
“I have their phone number,” said Tamisin. Taking the scrap of paper out of her pocket, she glanced at it again. Jak’s handwriting was angled oddly, and his letters were scrunched together, making them hard to read.
“I’ll be right back,” her mother said, taking the note. She left the dining room shaking her head. Tamisin could hear her go into the kitchen.
“Hello, is this Mrs. Catta?” came Tamisin’s mother’s voice from the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you go to school the other day?” Kyle asked. “You seemed fine when I got home.”
“She was sick, right, Tamisin?” said Petey.
“That’s right, Petey. I was sick,” Tamisin said, looking directly at Kyle as if daring him to question her.
“Huh,” was all he said before picking up his fork again.
Her mother was talking in the kitchen. “Perhaps I don’t have the right number. Do you have a boy namedJak? Your grandson? I see. Yes, I’m sure he’s a good boy. Uh-huh. Thank you very much.”
When Tamisin’s mother returned to the dining room, she looked a bit bewildered. “Apparently Jak lives with his grandmother and his uncle, who I think is named Bert. His grandmother has a strange accent; it was hard to make out exactly what she said.”
“Will his grandmother be there during the party?” asked Tamisin’s father.
“I believe so. She said that she intends to trim her nails tonight, which struck me as an odd thing to tell someone.”
Tamisin hopped to her feet and picked up her plate to carry it out to the kitchen. “So now you know that a responsible adult will be there. I’d better go get ready. Can someone give me a ride?”
“I will,” said Kyle. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll check out the party for you.”
Tamisin was setting her plate in the dishwasher when she heard her mother say, “I never said she could go. I’m going to call her back in here and tell her so.”
“Oh, let the girl go to the party,” her father said. “It will be good for her to do something fun to take her mind off … you know.”
“What?” asked Kyle. “What does she need to take her mind off?”
“Nothing you need to worry about, son,” said his father. “Just take her to the party and make sure she’s all right.”
“Sure,” said Kyle. “But I don’t know how long I’m going to stay.”
Tamisin went to the party dressed as a black cat—a simple enough costume that she was able to put together with clothes she dug out of her closet. She took her purse with her, stuffing in a few extra things she thought she might need. Heather wore her grandmother’s old hippie dress and a wreath of dried flowers. She made Tamisin wait while she took her allergy medicine, declaring that there were sure to be cats at Jak’s
“It’s tonight,” she said. “He lives on Jefferson Street. It starts at seven thirty.”
Kyle looked up from his plate. “I’ve heard about that party. I was thinking I might stop by.”
“Will Jak’s parents be there?” asked their father.
Tamisin shrugged. “I guess.”
Their mother looked up from pouring another glass of milk for Petey. “Who else is going?”
“Heather … And probably Jeremy Johnson. He hangs out with Jak a lot.”
“Good kid, Jeremy,” said Kyle. “Knows how to handle a football.”
“So do I!” said Petey. “Want to see?” The little boy began to push back his chair, but his brother stopped him.
“Later, sport,” Kyle said, ruffling Petey’s hair.
Their mother frowned and set down her napkin. “Your father and I have never met Jak or his parents. We need to know more about them and if they’re going to be home.”
“I have their phone number,” said Tamisin. Taking the scrap of paper out of her pocket, she glanced at it again. Jak’s handwriting was angled oddly, and his letters were scrunched together, making them hard to read.
“I’ll be right back,” her mother said, taking the note. She left the dining room shaking her head. Tamisin could hear her go into the kitchen.
“Hello, is this Mrs. Catta?” came Tamisin’s mother’s voice from the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you go to school the other day?” Kyle asked. “You seemed fine when I got home.”
“She was sick, right, Tamisin?” said Petey.
“That’s right, Petey. I was sick,” Tamisin said, looking directly at Kyle as if daring him to question her.
“Huh,” was all he said before picking up his fork again.
Her mother was talking in the kitchen. “Perhaps I don’t have the right number. Do you have a boy namedJak? Your grandson? I see. Yes, I’m sure he’s a good boy. Uh-huh. Thank you very much.”
When Tamisin’s mother returned to the dining room, she looked a bit bewildered. “Apparently Jak lives with his grandmother and his uncle, who I think is named Bert. His grandmother has a strange accent; it was hard to make out exactly what she said.”
“Will his grandmother be there during the party?” asked Tamisin’s father.
“I believe so. She said that she intends to trim her nails tonight, which struck me as an odd thing to tell someone.”
Tamisin hopped to her feet and picked up her plate to carry it out to the kitchen. “So now you know that a responsible adult will be there. I’d better go get ready. Can someone give me a ride?”
“I will,” said Kyle. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll check out the party for you.”
Tamisin was setting her plate in the dishwasher when she heard her mother say, “I never said she could go. I’m going to call her back in here and tell her so.”
“Oh, let the girl go to the party,” her father said. “It will be good for her to do something fun to take her mind off … you know.”
“What?” asked Kyle. “What does she need to take her mind off?”
“Nothing you need to worry about, son,” said his father. “Just take her to the party and make sure she’s all right.”
“Sure,” said Kyle. “But I don’t know how long I’m going to stay.”
Tamisin went to the party dressed as a black cat—a simple enough costume that she was able to put together with clothes she dug out of her closet. She took her purse with her, stuffing in a few extra things she thought she might need. Heather wore her grandmother’s old hippie dress and a wreath of dried flowers. She made Tamisin wait while she took her allergy medicine, declaring that there were sure to be cats at Jak’s
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