How was the meeting? father asked me over dinner. He had stopped locking himself away now, which i suppose should have elated me, but it didn't. I was so used to him not being around, it bothered me to see him for longer than five minutes.
Nancy had prepared a wonderful chicken caserole with white rice. It was my and Jema's most prefered meal. Almost as though she had prepared it as a 'Congratulations-you-made-it-into-a-support-group' present. I wanted to cringe, but found that I couldn't because 1) the food was delicious and 2) it would look impolite.
I swallowed down a fork of rice, It was okay. I lied. Jema smiled to herself as though she knew better than to believe that.
Heard there's a new kid around. Father said, raising an eyebrow. I stared at him.
Becky told you? Was that allowed? Isn't she supposed to keep her work confidential? father nodded. I shrugged.
Are they nice? The other kids...to you I mean.
I shrugged. I choose not to speak to them.
Why not, Lucy? I took you there to make friends.
You took me there to 'fix' me father. Jema stopped eating and stared at us.
Lucy, please.
Look, I don't want to make friends. Not with those people anyway. No one's really my age and the people who are, don't act like it.
Jack is. My father said.
No one likes Jack. I cross my arms and look away. The name feels foreign on my tongue and I feel as though I have betrayed him by saying nobody likes him.
Could he be the Jack with little Birdy? Well, technically not with him but could he be? And why on earth does father know about him?
