Chapter 20

"We need to talk."

So much for my dream of a quiet Sunday afternoon after a long weekend of gymnastics.

Traci stood over me looking pissed. She'd looked that way a lot this weekend. Kelly had just left. The two of them had been closeted together for almost three hours. "What makes you think I need your help with my friends?"

Okay, that's it. I stop trying to help. Sisters, at least.

"I..."

"Kelly told me you talked to her Friday after the meet."

"I did."

"Why?"

I got up out of Dad's chair. "Certain brats may have forgotten, since they've been so wrapped up in their own problems, but Kelly is my friend too. And MY FRIEND wanted to talk."

Traci's jaw dropped. I walked to my room and closed the door.

"Maybe I shouldn't go."

"Maybe you should quit the job you love and stay home. You can home school the brat. That way you can keep her in a bubble and protect her from the world."

"Tony!"

I think I managed to shock my mother. I smiled and let her think about it.

"You think I'm smothering her?"

I shrugged. "Not usually. Usually you have a sometimes irritating habit of letting us dig our own holes, then try to climb out. But right now your only daughter is hurting and you want to help. You want to make everything better."

"You don't?"

"I know I can't. Only Traci can make it better. Either she and Peter work something out, or she has to get over it."

"Damn. It's hell when your kids get smarter than you."

I smiled. "Not smarter, just more objective. I can take a step back and see that it's Traci who has to make the next move. You can't. You're Mom."

Mom climbed out of Dad's chair, came over, and ruffled my hair. "So we wait?"

"Patiently."

I sat on the sofa and watched as Mom paced the living room. Traci was over at Kelly's, which at least got her out of the house.

"If I strangle the kid, will you bury the body for me?"

"Peter?"

"It's all his fault she's hurting."

"It's..." Damn! "It's nobody's fault. It's just ... one of those things."

"You know. You know, don't you? What this is all about."

Damn, Damn, Damn! When I'd told Mom about the fight I'd managed to give the impression that I didn't know what it was about. "Yes," I said finally."

"Then..."

I sighed. "You already know my answer to that. Is there any sense in us getting in a fight, too?"

"It's not your secret to tell," she said resignedly.

I nodded.

"But maybe I could help."

"If Trace wants you to know..."

Mom's turn to nod. "So I wait?"

"No, you go to Philadelphia. You sit through three days of meetings and pretend you couldn't have learned just as much in a one-page memo. You visit your old friend Mary and relive your glory years of protests and getting hauled off to jail. Then you call Dad and meet him in San Francisco for a weekend and wonder why you ever had kids." Dad had a planners' conference all week and had left today.

"What about baseball?"

"Doesn't start until next week. I actually have a week with nothing extra to do. No football, baseball, gymnastics. No play. Nothing."

"But she's not even talking to you."

"Which just means it's a quiet week, too."

"Can I talk to you?"

Traci stood in the door of my room, several large white specks in her hair giving me a hint that either the weather had changed or Traci needed a stronger shampoo.

"If you can wait three-and-a-half sentences..." I was just finishing a paper comparing international aid programs to the welfare state. I typed the last period and saved the paper, then turned to my sister. The white specks had disappeared, so I assumed they were snow and not dandruff.

"Yes?" Considering our conversation that afternoon, I tried to sound as neutral as I could.

"I ... I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For jumping on you today. I thought you were interfering."

I smiled. "I'm a big brother. Interfering is in my job description."

Traci ignored my joke. "Kelly said she talked to you, not the other way around."

Traci stood, scuffing her feet.

"Did you get why she was mad?" I asked after a minute.

"Yeah, I guess I never thought ... I ... I wish I'd never talked to Peter."

You and me both. "Trace, I don't want to pry." Pry, hell. I don't want to know. "I don't know if you and Robbie ... or you and Kelly ... still ... I mean, if Peter had found out the hard way, walking in on you ... it would have been worse." That had to be the most disjointed sentence I'd ever uttered.

"Sometimes." She didn't specify if she still played with Robbie or Kelly or both. I figured I'd leave it there.

There was another long silence.

"Trace, if it's any consolation, you're not the first teenager to wish life had a do-over."

"TONY SIMS. PLEASE COME TO THE OFFICE."

I snapped my book closed. "Didn't we do this last month?" I said in disgust.

"And always debate," Robbie pointed out.

"Maybe if you had an unlisted address," Tami suggested.

"Have I ever mentioned just what a comfort you two are?"

They shrugged in perfect unison. I gathered my books, nodded to Mrs. Conners, and left.

The scene in the office almost duplicated last month's. Melissa Bates was still buffing her nails while reading a magazine that was open on the counter in front of her. Mr. Reed was chatting with Mrs. Hatcher, but this time instead of sitting on the edge of the spare desk he was sitting in the chair behind it.

"People."

"Tony, you have another phone call. Mr. Hollowell."

Without waiting for an invitation I came around the counter, picked up the phone, and pressed the flashing button. "Tony Sims."

"Tony, This is Miss Stanton at the middle school. Mr. Hollowell had to step away. There's been another fight. Traci..."

"I'll be right there," I interrupted.

Well, Mom can stop worrying about the brat, 'cause I'm gonna kill her.