Still, I keep Cassie out of Floyd’s way. I keep myself out of Floyd’s way. For three days. Unfortunately, I slip up on Thursday evening when I drop a glass and it shatters on the floor. Floyd’s into the kitchen like a slapshot to the net.

“That glass belonged to my father—it’s irreplaceable. You broke it on purpose, didn’t you?”

Trying not to tremble, I say, “It was an accident.”

He bounces on the balls of his feet, his eyes locked onto mine. “You’re lying.”

I can’t help it. I take a step back. Glass snaps under my heel.

“S-sorry.”

From the living room, the crowd screams as someone scores. Soccer, rugby, what do I care as long as it distracts him? Obviously he hasn’t forgotten that I attacked him, swore at him, and made Opal lose her cool, thereby humiliating him—the ultimate sin.

“Clean it up,” he says, and marches out of the room.

My knees don’t want to hold me up. I stumble into the pantry to fetch the broom and dustpan.

Okay, let’s try and gain some historical perspective (a phrase used frequently by Mrs. Baldwin, history teacher, grades seven and eight):

Josef Stalin (1879–1953): responsible for the deaths of approximately 25 million (approximately ... means no one bothered—or was left—to keep track).

Vlad III (ca 1431–1476)(the original Dracula—see, reading broadens your horizons): impaled thousands of men, women and children.

Popé (ca 1630–1690): led a rebellion against the Spanish conquistadors, then became a brutal tyrant himself.

Phraates IV (ruled Parthia ca 37–32 BC): killed his father to gain the throne.

*

FRIDAY NOON, I lift Cassie on the ATV. Since I’ve already told Rolf that I fell off it, I’ll have to stick to that particular lie and hope he and Docker don’t compare notes.

As I fasten her helmet, I say, “Remember what I told you? You won’t tell Rolf, Marigold, Tully, or Caramel that Floyd beat me up. I fell off the ATV down by the river and hurt my face on the rocks. Got it?”

“Telling lies is bad,” she says. I bet she’s quoting from The Backyardigans.

“Usually. But when you live with Floyd, telling lies is the only way to go.”

I turn on the ignition and we drive away, every jounce and bounce grating my teeth. The power truck’s parked in Rolf’s driveway. The house looks great, and Marigold has planted— guess what—orange, red, and yellow marigolds in the window boxes, along with smudgy little blue flowers.

“Pretty,” Cassie says.

Caramel bounds into the yard and she forgets the flowers. Rolf comes out on the step. He blinks. “Fell off your ATV, is that what you said?”

“Down by the river. Landed on some rocks.” Funny, I don’t like lying to him.