Tell by Norah McClintock Read Free Book Online

was watching everything that was happening. He was really paying attention.But when he pulled some good cards, all of a sudden he had a blank look on his face, like he didn’t care anymore, like whatever. And his lips.” I had noticed that right away. “He licked his lips a couple of times, right?”
    â€œWith Phil, mostly it’s the lips,” Jack said. He grinned at me. “You should take up poker. You’re pretty observant.”
    There was also the other thing Jack had told me to watch for. He said I should look at what Phil did with his cards at the end of a hand when he was playing with Jack and when he was playing with me. I had done exactly what Jack had said.
    â€œAt the end of a hand with you, Phil throws his cards onto the pile where all the other cards are,” I said. “With me, he puts his hands over the cards and he slides them in to where my cards are and then he sort of blends them in with the rest of the deck.”
    Jack didn’t say anything.
    â€œWhat does it mean, Jack?”
    â€œWhat does what mean?” Jack said.
    â€œHe puts his hands over the cards when he plays with me.”
    â€œCovers them up, you mean,” Jack said.
    I nodded.
    â€œLike maybe he’s hiding something,” Jack said. He turned the key in the ignition. “I know he’s your dad, David—”
    â€œHe’s my stepfather.”
    Jack shrugged. “It’s not my family. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t get involved.”
    I waited.
    â€œBut some things are wrong,” he said. “And I can’t just stand back and watch them happen. That’s why I told you what to look for.”
    Maybe that’s where Jack was different from me, but I didn’t say anything. Instead I went back inside. I looked at the mess in the living room. There were empty beer bottles everywhere. And ground-up potato chips and pretzels all over the carpet. Plus dirty paper plates and napkins, dirty glasses, and some pizza grease stains onthe table that my mother would freak over if she ever saw them, because this was her table—or so she always said. She had picked it out. Phil had probably paid for it. She always made a big deal over using coasters and place mats so that the table wouldn’t get marked up.
    â€œCome on,” Phil said. “Help me tidy up.”
    â€œI just spent all night cleaning the garage,” I said. “You tidy up.”
    I knew that Phil was angry because his face got all red.
    â€œI’ll play you for it,” he said. “If you lose, you do the cleanup by yourself.”
    â€œTwo out of three,” I said so I’d have a good chance to watch.
    I won the first hand. I didn’t see Phil do anything out of the ordinary. At the end of the hand, he threw his cards in.
    On the second hand, Phil licked his lips when he fanned out his cards and again after picking up three cards. He won that hand. He slid his cards in.
    The same thing happened on the third hand. Phil licked his lips. I don’t thinkhe even noticed he was doing it. He won again.
    â€œI guess that settles it,” he said.
    He started to slide his cards into the middle. I reached out and pushed his hand away from the cards. I guess he didn’t expect that because he looked startled. I grabbed his cards before he could react. He tried to snatch them back, but I got up from the table and ran into the kitchen.
    I had started with five cards. I’d discarded three and drawn three more. When the hand was over, I threw my cards onto the discard pile. Phil had also started with five cards. He had also discarded three and thrown them onto the discard pile. So there should only have been five cards under his hand as he slid them across the table. But instead there were eight—the five that made up his winning hand and that he had showed me, and three more. Where had the extra three cards come from? There was only one