He looks up at my head cam then away. Then he turns to his dad and holds up five fingers, and the curtain falls back into place.

We walk home, and he waits until I’m inside before he leaves.

Dad still isn’t here, and that scares me, because I don’t want to be alone.

Upstairs, I put the camera on my desk, then pull off my sneakers and limp to the bathroom. The blood is starting to clot, and I wash it and wrap it and put a fresh sock on, then go back to my room. I’m looking out my broken window when I hear the camera click off.

Only then do I pick up the brick and remove the paper to see a drawing of a magpie and the number 14.

Chapter 48

I get a freezer bag from the kitchen and tuck the paper inside, sealing it shut and imagining what the police will think if I hand it over.

I scrub the blood from my carpet, then lie awake until Dad comes home. He must have seen the damage in the dark, because he walks into my room without knocking.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” I say, hiding my foot from him.

I wanted so much for him to come home, but now he’s here, I want to be alone again. I want to feel him close but not too close, the way I’m used to, through the sound of the TV and the rumble of his snoring when he falls asleep.

He touches the window frame, stares outside, then turns back with a look I haven’t seen before.

“Who did this?” he asks.

I wonder if this is the moment that changes him, the one we will look back on and laugh about—the day a brick and a hidden bleeding foot forced my dad back to life.

He leans into the black, then shakes his head, and says, “What am I supposed to do?”

With his back to me, in the dark, his voice sounds more fragile than ever.

“I thought this was over.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. It’s all I have, and I know it’s not enough.

When he turns, I see a tear slip down my father’s cheek before it soaks into his beard.

“Are you going to call the police?” I ask.

He should. It’s the responsible thing to do. But he doesn’t want them back here. He doesn’t want the reminders they bring.

He looks outside one last time, shakes his head again, and says, “Sleep in my room tonight.”

I expect Dad to go downstairs, but instead he sits in the chair next to his bed, and every time I open my eyes, he’s watching me.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I’m here.”

Chapter 49