“Oh. I didn’t you know had a sister,” he said, glancing at me before returning to Christian. “See you on the court.” And with a mock salute, he was gone.

“Do you just tell people you’re an only child?” I said, yanking my chem book out and shoving it in my bag.

“What? No,” he said.

“Whatever,” I said, turning to go.

“Wait.” He stopped me with a heavy hand on my arm. “Why are you acting so weird?”

I’d never loathed him more than in that moment. “What’s wrong with you?” I shot back. “Dad’s gone and you don’t even care.”

“Really? That’s what this is about?” he said with a scoff. “It’s not like this is the first time he’s disappeared. And for the record, I care.”

“No, you don’t. Because you don’t have to care. You’ve got Mom.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? We have Mom. Both of us. Dad’s the one who left and he left all of us. I didn’t make him go. He ran off. Again.”

“He only left because of Mom.” Christian was willfully distorting what happened. I didn’t know why I was bothering. He’d been brainwashed by our mom. He’d never understand. “Were you even there Saturday night? Did you hear them?”

“I was there,” he said. “I was going to get my keys and bounce but then they started arguing downstairs, so I couldn’t leave.”

“Did you hear the whole thing?” I could still hear the disdain in Mom’s voice when Dad said he wanted a divorce: Oh, really?

“As a matter of fact, I did. It’s basically the same fight they have all the time.” He rolled his eyes. “Dad’s flakey, Mom gets mad, Dad runs off for a few weeks, comes back all contrite. Things are okay for a while and then it starts up all over again. Rinse and repeat.” His voice was devoid of emotion, like he’d been reading me the weather report. Cloudy with a 30 percent chance of divorce. “I don’t know why you’re so worked up. You know he’s coming back.”

That was the thing. I didn’t, not this time.

“Hey.” Elise seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Her eyes traveled between us a few times, curious, then she smiled at Christian. “What’s up, guys?”

“Nothing, let’s go,” I said, pulling her along.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as soon as we were out of earshot. I just shook my head. In the Pink Caddy, I drew my knees in, curling into myself.

“I hate him,” I said.

“Your . . . dad?” she asked, passing a cigarette to me and lighting one for herself.

“Christian.” I held my cigarette between my fingers, unlit, forgotten. “Dad left two days ago and he’s just acting like nothing’s happened.”

Elise studied me but didn’t say anything, releasing a stream of smoke to the side.

“How can he just—” I broke off. It wasn’t that he didn’t get what I was going through—he didn’t want to. It was easier for him to live in his bubble where everything was perfect and he was perfect.