The Disappearance Of Sloane Sullivan. Gia Cribbs
the tune to “Have a Little Faith in Me” by John Hiatt. It was the song my dad always sang to my mom when she was upset.
I listened, transfixed, until the song ended. I wiped away tears that were still falling and asked, “Where’d you learn that song?”
“I used to sing it to my little sister when we were younger. I took care of her a lot.”
It was the first time he’d ever mentioned anything about his real life, but I didn’t have any trouble imagining him taking care of a little sister just like he’d often taken care of me. I realized he was right. I had to have faith in him. He was all I had left. “So what are we going to do?”
He wiped more of my tears away. “We’ll start over someplace new. We’ll live together from now on, okay?”
I took a shaky breath. “I need a new name?”
Mark nodded. “Do you have one in mind?”
“Faith.”
I took a deep breath. In the almost five years since that day, I’d only heard Mark say “have a little faith” a handful of times. Only when something was important, when it was big. And this time, he’d been talking about me not knowing anything. I buried the echo of the voice I’d heard deep inside my head. I don’t know anything.
I silently counted to twenty and let the screen door slam behind me in what had quickly become my way of announcing I was home. “Hey!” I called, forcing my voice to be light.
A moment later, Mark poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey! How was your day?” He sounded like he hadn’t just been sighing and snapping and faithing at someone.
“Good.” I tossed my backpack on the island and opened the refrigerator door, pretending to search for a snack. What I really wanted was to know what was going on.
Mark hopped onto the island and played with the straps of my bag. “How was school? Anything interesting happen?”
Cold dread filled my whole body. They know. They know Jason’s here. That’s what’s big. Mark has to handle telling me I screwed up and we have to move again, and soon. My shoulders slumped. There had to be a way to reason with him, to get him to understand that I couldn’t do it anymore. But wait. If Mark knew who Jason really was, he wouldn’t be making conversation. He’d be telling me we have to leave right now. So maybe he doesn’t know everything yet.
I grabbed a yogurt and turned to face him. I was going to find out exactly what he knew. “I invented a nephew for you today.”
Mark’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s...not what I expected you to say.”
“I accidentally called my friend Jase instead of Jason, and before I knew it I was explaining the slip by saying that’s what I’ve always called my cousin Jason.” There. I’ve opened the door to all Jason-related topics. Now tell me what you know.
Mark nodded in mock seriousness. “I’ve always loved Jason. He’s my favorite fake nephew.”
I pursed my lips. Nothing? “He’s your only fake nephew.”
“Oh. Right.” He grinned.
Okay. “What did you expect me to say?”
He threw his hands up. “I don’t know, something about the senior scavenger hunt perhaps? I mean, how many times does a person get to do something like that, even someone like you who’s been in tons of schools?”
“Oh. It was pretty fun, I guess. Better than being stuck in class.”
“And?”
“And how was your day? Anything interesting happen?”
Mark frowned. “No. Why would it?”
I threw my hands up too. Because you were talking to the Marshals about me! “Because it was your first day on the job.”
“Oh.” The corners of his mouth twitched slyly. “It was pretty fun, I guess. Better than being stuck in the house.”
I made an annoyed noise at his use of my own words against me.
He jumped off the island and stole my yogurt and spoon in one swift move. He ate the whole thing in three bites. “I’m going for a run and then I’m playing basketball,” he announced as he tossed the empty cup in the trash. “Wanna come? But I’m warning you, if you come I’m making you spill more details about the scavenger hunt than, ‘It was pretty fun, I guess.’” He hummed as he left the kitchen.
I watched Mark leave. What just happened? I’d given him the perfect opportunity to talk about Jason and he hadn’t mentioned a thing. The sound of Mark’s bedroom door closing gave me an idea. “I’m coming!” I called as I hustled to my room to change into running clothes, glaring at his closed door as I passed. If you’re not going to tell me what’s going on, I’ll just have to find out myself.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.