Untethered by Katie Hayoz Read Free Book Online Page A

Going to Dad’s.”
    “Yeah.”
    I think about it. Dad living somewhere else. It doesn’t seem possible. He was part of home. You could always find him at his desk working on the computer. Or at the kitchen table, a newspaper in his hand. Once in a while he left his post and took us places. He took me to the hospital for blood tests. To the DMV for my driver’s license (which was useless since no one ever lets me take the car –“too risky” with the cataplexy). And he went shopping with me a few months back, but that was a disaster: being so small I still shop in the girls’ department, and he kept picking out things with pink bows or princesses for me to wear. But mostly, Dad was around the house. Our house. And now, he’s gone.
    Then I think about how Dad has said he doesn’t want to try with Mom, and yet here we have to give up our whole weekend to sit and listen to him tell us he loves us even though he left us. “Why should we have to spend time with Dad on the weekend, anyways? That’s the only free-time we’ve got!”
    Cassie waves her hands in the air the way my mom does when she’s wafting incense around the room. “Come on, Sylvie. Cut your dad a little slack. It’s not like you’re ever that busy on the weekend.”
    Okay. That pisses me off. She used to stay home on weekends, too, before becoming Miss-I’m-All-That-America. I whirl on her. “Who are you? I thought you were supposed to be my friend.”
    “I am. I didn’t—”
    “Go on your date, Miss Good Times.”
    “You’re not the only one with problems.”
    We’re in front of my house now. Sam kind of slinks around me and walks towards the back door. (The front is for visitors.) I stand and look Cassie in the eyes. “Yeah, well, when your problems equal mine, let me know.”
    “You always think the world is out to get you, Sylvie.”
    “Haven’t you noticed my life lately? The world is out to get me.”
    We stare at each other for a long time, then for some stupid reason she starts laughing. Despite the hot anger still boiling in the pit of my stomach, I feel the edges of my mouth turning up, and a giggle escapes me. She laughs some more and I finally can’t hold back. We both laugh so hard our eyes leak.
    “God, I’m such an idiot. I’m sorry, Cass,” I say, wiping my eyes. “Give me a call after your date.” I wave and head into the house.
     
    A couple of hours later, my anger is still there, slippery and unsure of who to lash out at. But soon enough, I find a victim. From my bedroom window, I see Dad pull up. That’s it. I’m not going anywhere with him . If he isn’t going to try, neither am I.
    “Sylvie! Your father is here! Come on down!” My mom’s voice has changed pitch since Dad’s left. Like by talking higher, she’ll sound happier.
    I pop my iPod into the holder, turn the volume on LOUD and stretch out on my bed. Thirty seconds later Mom is at my feet.
    She’s wearing a turquoise sweat suit. Mom is a massage therapist and regular energy freak. This weekend is some sort of Yoga convention at Festival Hall. Hundreds of women in their forties discussing chakras and sitting in the lotus position. She turns off my stereo. “Your father is here.”
    “I’m not going.”
    “Yes, you are. We agreed on this.”
    Now I sit up. “We didn’t agree on anything, Mom.”
    She glares at me, her eyes wet. Again. “Don’t do this, Sylvie. I’m having a hard enough time right now as it is.”
    “Oh, and I’m not?”
    You’d think I slapped her for how shocked she looks. Her eyes peel back real wide and she claps her hands to her mouth. And then, all of a sudden, she sits down on the bed and wraps her arms around me. They’re thin, but solid. She smells like lavender soap. “Oh, my baby girl. Oh, I’m so sorry, Sylvie.”
    It feels like I’m six again and waking from nightmares. She’s hugging me with that same intensity, like if she squeezes me close enough everything bad will disappear. I give in for a