Straight to the bathroom. Lock the door. Hot water feels great. Best shower of my life.

Go to my room, lock the door, fall on my bed. Don’t care that my feet stick out in space. Don’t care about nothing.

Little brother knocks just as I’m falling.

I grunt.

“Robby? You okay?” he asks through the door

Say, “Yep, just tired.”

“Sure?” he asks.

I say “Yeah” with my last ounce of strength. Then sleep.

Katie

Maybe Mum was right. Rob’s parents did seem relieved that there was a REASON he was missing and it wasn’t that he’d been mysteriously abducted by aliens or kidnapped by bandits.

But can you imagine how stupid I felt when the police car pulled up, and there I was? Rob probably thinks I’m a nosy, gossiping sticky-beak.

Yeech! I just wanted to evaporate, but Mum and I couldn’t LEAVE because the police car was blocking the driveway! We hid around the side of the house. My cheeks burn just thinking about it.

Anyway, when we finally got out of there, Mum was either A) sorry she’d made me go, or else B) it was her way of thanking me. But in any case, we stopped at the mall and she bought me those expensive jogging shoes I’ve been drooling over. They’re really cute. I’m going to wear them to school Monday.

I wonder if Rob’s going to be there.

Sarah said she’s not supposed to go to school until she tells the principal WHO gave her the test. But she’s going to show up Monday and just act normal. She thinks that once Mr. Chen has had a chance to cool down, he’ll forget the whole thing. I hope so.

I thought it sounded scary either way. To go to school or not to go. To tell or not to tell: THAT IS THE QUESTION.

For once, I’m glad I’m not in Sarah’s shoes.

Sunday

Sarah

My father was two and a half hours late, but at least he didn’t cancel. He said something about a big case for a finicky client (Dad’s a lawyer). I don’t remember the details, but

of course

it was through

no fault

of his own

that he was late.

Thankfully, he showed up alone. Not that my half sister isn’t adorable, but still, it’s nice sometimes not to have to watch her eat with her hands.

At Sunday brunch, the Overland Cafe is always full of divorced dads and kids on best behavior. So first we had to wait in line. Then we had to wait to order. There was plenty of time to study the menu, although I’d memorized it years ago. My father probably had, too—not that it mattered, since he always orders the same thing:

Two poached eggs
A plain bagel—dry
A small grapefruit juice
And a decaf-lowfat-double-latte.