“Hey, Ollie Girl,” he said, smiling at her in anisn’t this a nice surprisesort of way.
All the spit in her mouth dried up. She felt like Daddy had hit her with the sledge, torn her right open and exposed her insides.
“Grab a pry bar and give me a hand,” he said.
She worked to steady her breathing. To not freak out and start screaming or, worse, lose it completely and start bawling like a little kid. The room seemed to tilt and glow, everything growing brighter. She thought of that stupid old expression about being so mad you saw red and understood it now. Understood that fury brought its own fire with it, tinting the world around you.
“But you said we would finish the living room first.” She choked the words out, eyes getting blurry with tears she was trying so hard to keep back. “I told you I didn’t want my room changed! I’m happy with it the way it is.”
He blinked at her from behind his scratched plastic safety goggles, his blue eyes bloodshot, with dark bags under them. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a week, a haunted man.
“I thought it would be a nice surprise. I thought you wanted a nicer room.”
“But I didn’t—”
“Is it so wrong?” Daddy asked. “For me to want my best girl to have the best room?”
She didn’t answer. Didn’t speak. She was afraid if she opened her mouth, she would either yell or start to full-on cry. Why hadn’t he listened to her? Why did he never, ever listen to her?
Was this why Mama had left?
Had he not listened to Mama, either? Just ignored everything she said, everything she asked for?
She rubbed at her eyes, clenched her jaw. Stared at the sledgehammer in her father’s hand, willing him to drop it. Concentrating with all her might. She wanted him to drop it and for it to fall on his toes, crush them, break them maybe. She wanted him to feel pain, to be shocked by it.
Then, as she watched, the heavy hammer slipped out of Daddy’s grasp, dropping to the floor with a thud, just missing the toe of his right work boot. He paid no attention.
Olive blinked down at it, not quite believing.
She held her breath.
Had she done this? Did she have that kind of power? Something awakened, brought to the surface by rage?
No way, Odd Oliver,she told herself.
It was coincidence, that’s all. People couldn’t control the world around them like that.
Least of all her.
“I was thinking we could put built-in shelves along this wall,” Daddy said, gesturing. “Floor to ceiling. With maybe a built-in desk right in the center. A place for you to do your homework. To set up a computer.”
“But I don’t even have a computer.” Her anger now came out as a whine. She hated whining.
“We’ll get you one. To go with your brand-new room.”
He smiled big and wide, and she thought,So this is how it’s going to be.A bribe. A trap, really. But it didn’t matter. It was no use fighting. What’s done was done. Daddy had made up his mind. He had already taken a sledgehammer to things, torn down the wall behind where her bed used to be. The air was full of dust, the carpet covered in the rubble that was once her wall. She hated the way the walls looked without drywall—the studs, plumbing, wiring, and junction boxes exposed. It was like catching a grown-up getting undressed. It embarrassed her. Made her wish she hadn’t seen.
Houses held secrets.
Her father seemed determined to expose all of their house’s secrets, to strip it down and tear it wide open for all the world to see. Even in her very own room.
“You could use a computer for your schoolwork,” Daddy said, giving her a sly smile. “Think how much easier your homework would be. You’re still getting homework, aren’t you?”
She nodded, looked down at the dusty carpet while he held her in his gaze.
She was sure, absolutely positive, then that he knew. He knew she hadn’t been to school that day, that she’d been skipping regularly. He knew, but he wasn’t going to say anything, wasn’t going to confront her or punish her.
The world felt off-kilter, torn open.
