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don’t move. She asks the waiter for a box, pays the check, and stands, telling me it’s time to go.
    She reaches for me. And I jump.
    “I’m sorry, Carley.” She sighs and steps back. “Why don’t we get going?”
    She’s apologizing to me?
    I follow her out. Rainer waves like a doofus, and I blow him a kiss. Mrs. Murphy shakes her head but lets it go.
    We get into the car. “Are you okay, Carley?”
    “I’m fine.” I watch a movie of myself running.
    Running and running and running.
    “I don’t think you’re okay,” she replies.
    “I told you not to play psychologist with me.” I count things on the dashboard.
    “It’s okay to cry, Carley. You have good reasons. I can see you’re filled right up to the top with it.”
    How can she see that? “I…
never
cry. What’s the point? It’s just weak.”
    “I know things are hard for you, but I think the release would make you feel better. You know, like shaking a Coke bottle. The pressure builds up.”
    “Don’t play science professor with me either,” I tell her.
    “People are meant to cry,” she says. “It’s human nature and it might do you some good.”
    “What about penguins?”
    “I don’t think penguins cry.”
    I want to laugh at her. “No, but they have wings.”
    “You’ve lost me.”
    “Yeah. Look, penguins have wings but they don’t fly. Nobody gets ticked at them. Hey…” I look her in the eye. “Why don’t we go down to Antarctica and shove some poor unsuspecting penguin into a cannon. Tell him that because nature gave him wings, he’s meant to fly. We’ll launch the sucker, and when he lands in a broken, mangled heap… we’ll ask Mr. Penguin if he’s better off. If it’s done him some good. What do ya say?” I pump two fists. “Are ya
with
me?”
    She starts the car.

CHAPTER 11

High Tops Girl from the Planet Oblivion
    A fter getting back from shopping, Mrs. Murphy does not argue when I tell her I’m going to bed. I crawl under the cold covers and think of the warmth of Vegas. How the sky is never dark, even at night. How I used to live there with my mother, and it was my home. How I only have one full day left before I have to go to school.
    The next day is Sunday, and I spend most of it with my nose in a book entitled
Samurai Shortstop.
It’s Daniel’s and it’s about baseball, but the twerp refuses to read it. It’s actually pretty good.
    Jack Murphy comes home after lunch. He does not say hello to me even though I’m standing right there when he comes in. Mrs. Murphy’s face screws into worry. She puts her dish towel down and follows him upstairs. I figure this is more interesting than TV.
    I stand at the bottom of the stairs and hear the deep sandpapery voice of Mr. Murphy—even rougher than usual.
    “Julie. I
told
you this would be a mistake.”
    “We don’t know that, Jack. We hardly know her at this point.”
    Oh my God. They’re fighting about me?
    “So are you going to tell me what happened last night?” he asks. “You came to bed crying and wouldn’t tell me why. I know she did something.”
    I made her cry?
    “And then… then,” he continues, “I open the checkbook this morning to pay the bills, and I see you’ve spent a fortune on her. What were you thinking, Julie?”
    She fires back. “It’s important for a girl that age to have the right clothes. I’m sorry, but I thought it was worth it. I won’t spend like that again. Besides, it’s not
all
out of pocket, Jack. The state gives us money.”
    “Not enough for this. Let’s look at what’s happened so far. She fought with Daniel…”
    “She didn’t fight with him.
He
got upset.”
    “Well, you cannot call me at the station to come home because of drama with this girl.”
    Mrs. Murphy mumbles something I can’t make out.
    Then I hear her coming. I scurry back through the living room, through the back hallway, and into the family room. When she comes back into the kitchen, I am lounging on the couch, but my heart