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home from his poker nights, Mom would drill him with questions. She’d ask him who was there and did he go out for a drink after and if so where did he go and who did he talk to? It sounded more like an interrogation than a conversation. Whenever they went out to a party or something together, there would usually be a fight when they got home. They’d hold out long enough to pay the babysitter. Then Mom would start in on Dad. I guess they assumed I was sleeping. But I was usually awake. And when they got to their room, I could hear everything.
    A typical fight went like this:
    Mom: So ... Marie looked nice tonight.
Dad: Hmm.
Mom: Don’t you think she looked nice?
Dad: I really didn’t notice.
Mom: Her dress must have cost a fortune. Wasn’t it fantastic?
Dad: It was all right.
Mom: I thought you said you didn’t notice.
Dad: I’m going for a run.
    Or this:
    Mom: Who was Richard talking to?
Dad: Kelsey.
Mom: Who’s she?
Dad: She’s working with Dan on the Stevens account.
Mom: You know her?
Dad: We’ve talked.
Mom: At work?
Dad: Yes, Laura, we’ve talked at work. I work with her. We talk.
Mom: You never told me about her.
Dad: I’m telling you now.
Mom: Only because I asked.
Dad: [angry silence]
Mom: Does she work on your floor?
Dad: I’m going for a run.
    Even though I was young, I was old enough to understand that Mom’s jealousy issues drove Dad away. But after Dad moved out, Mom started telling me different reasons for why he left.
    “Your father never knew what it took to be a decent parent,” she ranted. “He was always looking for a way out, right from the start. I should have known things would end up this way.”
    Mom told me the kind of stuff you should never tell your kid. Even if it’s true. I didn’t believe her at first. But after hearing too many times how Dad left us because he’d rather have his freedom than be part of a family or how if he loved us more he’d still live here, I started thinking that maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t entirely her fault.
    Actually, I know it wasn’t. Because before he left us for some woman he’s not even with anymore, there was that thing with my babysitter.
    Justine was my friend. When she came over, it was never like she was just there to watch me. It was like she really wanted to be there. We told each other secrets. She’d tell me things about her life, things that mattered, like about college choices and boys she went out with and how it felt to be so close to the new life that was waiting for her after high school. I knew she would be leaving for college soon, but I hoped she’d go somewhere close so she could still come over.
    Justine was like the older sister I’d always wanted.
    This one time when I was ten, Justine was downstairs waiting for my parents to come home. I was in bed, but I wasn’t sleeping. Then I heard my parents come home. I was always nervous when they got back from social events because I was never sure if they’d start fighting as soon as Justine left. I decided to sneak downstairs and see if Mom looked mad.
    Except I didn’t find Mom when I went downstairs. I found Dad.
    And Justine.
    Kissing.
    I don’t know if Mom knew about it. She never said anything to me. Of course I never said anything to her. She had enough pain in her life without me adding to it. But after that night, Justine never came back. She never even said good-bye.
    People destroy your trust. Then they leave.
    You can never completely know anyone, no matter how well you think you do. There will always be parts of their lives they leave out. There will always be some truth about them you don’t ever get to know.
    Or maybe one day you’ll find out their truth. And you’ll wish you never had.

Seven
    Being inconspicuous was a lot easier at my old school. Here, there’s nowhere to hide.
    First off, classes are smaller. Even if I sit in the back row, I’m still way exposed. Teachers care more here. If you zone out, they call on you. If you don’t