Chapter 11: April 28

The last father left at nine, carrying a tray of leftover sliders and a kind of tact I didn't want.

I locked the door behind him and turned around.

Devin was stacking paper plates in the kitchen with his back to me.

"What does she know?" I asked.

"Katie, it's been a long day."

"What does my mother know?"

"I'll tell you everything after the final."

"The final's next Sunday."

"I know."

"That's a whole week."

"I made a promise," he said, and he put the plates down. "I can't break it until then. It's not mine to break."

"To who?"

"To your mother."

He said it plainly, and that was the worst part.

"Is she sick?" I asked.

"No."

"Is she hurt?"

"She's fine. She's completely fine."

"Then why can't you tell me?"

"Because I'd be taking something from her," he said. "And I've already taken enough."

I stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

I thought about screaming, or throwing a plate, or kissing him until he told me.

None of it seemed like the right move.

"Okay," I said.

He looked up, surprised.

"Okay?"

"You made a promise. I understand promises." I picked up my bag. "I'm going to bed."

"Katie..."

"Goodnight."

I went upstairs, shut my door, and sat on the edge of my bed for forty minutes.

At ten minutes to eleven, I heard the downstairs bedroom door close.

At eleven, I heard the shower start.

I put on my sneakers and went down the back stairs in the dark.

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