Read Mayday for Free Online Page B

her gaze. In that moment she again looked like a young child, desperate and vulnerable. The stoic quickly returned. “Mom tells me I’m a big part of it. Some days, I believe her.” She paused. “You don’t learn that crap staring through a window. If you want to leave, there’s the door.”
    I closed my eyes, and visited a different time.
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    â€œIf you want to leave, there’s the door!”
    Five-year-old me glanced up from my sidewalk chalk in time to catch Mom shove Dad onto the front steps. He stood motionless for a long time, shoulders drooped, head slightly back. Amazing what details stick.
    â€œAnd finish that garage!” Mom’s voice pushed out from inside. “You know what Dr. Jude says. That roof is a symbol of provision. And if you’re not willing to do your share—”
    The door slammed, and Dad turned. He forced a smile my way and quietly walked toward the ladder, then eased it against the house.
    â€œIs Mommy mad?” Addy asked.
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said. “Why don’t you go in and give her a hug? She’ll like that.”
    Addy ran inside, and I walked toward the ladder, yanked on the back of Dad’s shirt.
    â€œDo you want to come up?” he asked.
    I dropped my chalk, Dad hoisted me onto the ladder, and together we clambered onto the roof. Tarpaper and shingles lay everywhere, and Dad surveyed the job. He plopped down, lay back, and covered his eyes.
    And cried.
    I lay down beside him and placed my head on his chest.
    â€œI’m losing her, Coraline. That therapist has his hooks in her.” He groaned. “Here’s a quote to live by: If you’re going to fight a doctor, you need more than common sense on your side. Remember that.” Dad exhaled and stroked my hair. “I’m sorry, you don’t need any of this on your shoulders.”
    I sat up. “Don’t let Mommy see the doctor. Why do you visit him?”
    â€œI don’t know anymore.” Dad propped himself up on an elbow. “At first we went to talk about you.” He cupped my cheek in his hand. “You were one loud girl.”
    I jumped up and stumbled toward the ladder. “
I
make Mommy see him?”
    â€œNo, at the beginning, we went for help because, well, some kids scream. A lot. I’m not good with noise, but—”
    I scampered down the rungs, Dad calling after me. “You are not the cause of what’s happening. Coraline!”
    But it was too late. I heard his words, and they lodged in my heart. Later, Mom would be certain they remained.
    Dad tried to find me—I heard him calling for nearly an hour—but I was behind the shed hiding inside a bush, the little girl with a broken heart.
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    â€œStill with me, Shane?”
    I stared at the garage door. “Sucks to be blamed by a parent who doesn’t act the part.”
    â€œYeah,” she said. “It does.”
    â€œSucks to be the only one who sees what’s going in a house.”
    Crow stretched and sighed. “My friends—Basil, Mel—they wouldn’t get that.”
    I forced a smile. “Yeah. It’s the story of my life.”
    She nodded, and we dropped into a long silence. Crow walked toward me. “I’m glad you showed up.”
    â€œWell,” I said, “that’s my story. But I wonder, with you, maybe there was more going on between your folks than you know. I mean, marriage isn’t like chemistry. Two happy people in a beaker, add a drop of kid potion, and the whole experiment blows up. I don’t think it happens that way.”
    â€œI think I was there and you weren’t,” Crow snapped, and then rubbed her forehead and lowered her voice. “You’re hard to figure out, Shane.”
    â€œThere’s a good reason for that.”
    We stepped out of the garage and walked slowly back toward the school—a