I make my way around the side of the building, my feet crunch- ing loudly on the dead leaves. It will be a miracle if he doesn’t hear me coming. I use the go-bag as a stool to peek in the high window, which, thankfully, is still open. Dad has discovered the phone in the laundry room. It’s right next to the window, so he’s got his back to me. I work my toe in a spot where a brick is missing and hitch myself a little higher. “This is bullshit. I said I’m working on it.” Dad’s pacing, but the cord is keeping him on a short leash. Three tight circles later, he says, “If I can get it, I’ll need some guarantee that my family will be safe.” Oh. My. God. Who is he talking to? “I don’t believe you.” His voice is controlled, but his movements are jerky. Five more circles. “What happens if I can’t find it?” Dad leans against the wall. “No, you’ve made that very clear.” Dad slams the phone in the cradle and I almost fall off the wall. I grab my bag and haul ass to the house, praying I make it there before Dad sees me.
What do You think about The Rules For Disappearing?
