Page 3 of Degradation
From the corner of my eye, I see Andy reassess April with unconcealed surprise. She has power over my father.No onehas power over John Novelle.
‘It takes Marguerite a little time to settle into new places, but I’m sure she’ll get there.’
‘Where did you meet?’ I ask, burning with curiosity.
My father clears his throat. ‘April and I knew each other a long time ago, didn’t we, honey?’
April takes a sip of wine and then gives my dad a small smile. ‘Yes, a long time ago. We reconnected as friends and, well, that’s that. Your dad was there for me and for Marguerite during a... Well, a few months. We spent some time together and realized there was more to our friendship.’
It sounds plausible, but it reeks of one of my dad’s spins. April knows all the etiquette rules, though, which means my dad didn’t pick her up in a bar, or something. I’ll bet they knew each other like she says, but there’s probably a lot more to the story than what they’re telling.
I look at Marguerite. Dinner has been served and she’s eating slowly, moving her food around her plate. She’s made separate piles for her potatoes and broccoli. They aren’t touching anymore. She consumes each pile individually, barely looking up from her plate.
The rest of dinner passes quickly and soon dessert is served. Marguerite hasn’t spoken even once and hasn’t looked at any of us, except for when my father asked her a direct question and her mother nudged her. Even then, she only glanced up to incline her head as little as possible in response.
My father didn’t like that. He considers it disrespectful, but he didn’t say anything.
Then the plates are cleared, and my dad looks at me and Andy expectantly. It’s permission, or an order, to leave, depending on how you look at it.
We both stand and April smiles at us like she means it. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you both. Sweetheart, why don’t you go with them? Maybe they can show you around the house, so you don’t get lost again.’
I nod automatically, and the girl rises without a word, following us out of the dining room.
She trails us up the stairs to the wide corridor and stops when Andy whirls around.
‘In this house, we dress for dinner,’ he sneers, looking down at her well-worn clothes.
I watch her face, expecting her to get upset. Most other kids do when Andy decides to be a dick, but she just looks at him. She doesn’t act like she cares at all.
I snort. ‘Don't be a jerk. You sound like Pop.’
He scowls at me. ‘You show the weirdo around.’
He turns and goes to his room. ‘You’re not my sister,’ he calls over his shoulder. ‘Don’t expect me to be nice to you.’
He shuts it quietly, leaving us in the hall alone.
I watch her. She’s looking around, taking in the cream carpet runner and the painting on the wall close by.
‘Want me to show you around?’
She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t move when I start walking.
‘You don’t want to see it?’ I ask.
Nothing.
‘Okay. Well, I’m going to play video games, then. Want to do that?’
This time, she follows me to my room.
She stands at the threshold, taking in my gray walls and my twin bed that looks so tiny in the corner. Her eyes move to the couch sitting in the middle of the room in front of the seventy-inch flat screen on the wall.
‘Come in.’
She takes one step inside as I get the controllers from the TV cabinet and then, belatedly, she comes to sit on the other side of the couch, as far away from me as she can get.
I hand her the controller and start the car racing game.
