Page 40 of Proof

“Not exactly. She’s just got her own stuff she’s always busy with. Most of the time, she’s out with Bruce, or she’s out and Bruce is in his office. Honestly, I feel like a visitor.”

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I guess I’m used to it.”

“Does it make you feel bad?” Chris asked.

“No, not really. I mean, I know she loves me and all that, but she is not like most other moms. She doesn’t participate in any school activities. Sure, she’ll come to a game, but she’s not baking any cookies,” Carter snorted.

Chris laughed out loud. “I’m really sorry.”

“About what?”

“That you feel like you’re a visitor at your own mother’s.”

“Not your fault. I always tell people I live with you. I mean, I do most of the time, so it’s not a lie.”

“Just a stretch of the truth.” Chris eyed him.

“Dad. Look. My room at your house is my room. She doesn’t even let me put anything up on the walls just in case they have guests.” He grabbed another handful of onion rings.

Chris thought about the first time Luna had spent the night and slept in Carter’s room.

As if reading his father’s mind, Carter said, “I know Luna slept in there once. But you know what I mean.” Carter was much more mature than Chris was giving him credit for.

“I’m really sorry you feel that way about staying at your mother’s. You should feel it’s your home as much as you do when you’re with me.”

Carter shrugged. “Like I said, it’s no biggie. As long as I have my room in your house, I’m good with it.”

Chris’s shoulders relaxed for the first time in days. He didn’t realize how much stress he’d been holding in. “So how are we going to play this?” Chris asked, wondering how much of a sleuth he’d raised.

“I’m going to keep my eyes and ears peeled. I’ll text you anything that seems a little goofy.”

“No texting. No emails. No electronic fingerprints.”

“Right. I guess I’m gonna have to start writing things down,” Carter joked.

“Funny, dude. I bet you are the only one in your class who has a signature.”

“And I can write cursive, too.” Carter opened his eyes wide.

“Has your mom ever mentioned Luna?” Chris tried to sound casual.

“I heard her say something to Bruce about her name. Something about how ‘hippy-dippy’ it sounded. Then Bruce told her the only difference between her name and Luna’s were two consonants and a vowel. They start with the same two letters and end with the same one.” Carter snickered. “I thought it was kind of cool of Bruce to come up with that.”

“Ha. That never occurred to me,” Chris mused. Some investigator. “Listen, there’s something else. You are going to have to sit down with a psychiatrist.”

“A shrink? Why?” Carter held up a rib midair.

“So they can evaluate you. Make sure you are having happy thoughts,” Chris said. “Seriously, they want to make sure you’re well-adjusted, and if you are capable of making a decision on your own as to who you’d rather live with.”

Carter nodded. “What if I just tell them?”

“Not that easy, son. Just answer the questions honestly. Don’t try to fake anything. It’s their job to see through the bunk. But I have complete faith in you.” Chris squeezed a lemon wedge into his palms and wiped them with a napkin. He noticed Carter watching him. “Gets the sticky stuff off. And the smell.”

“How come I never saw you do that before?”

“Maybe you just weren’t paying attention while you were stuffing your face.” Chris grinned.

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