I thought of my notebook, the one in which I’d been drawing during Mr. Jorgenson’s lecture, but surely that wasn’t enough to get me expelled.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked the stout woman as we walked.

“Your mother is waiting for you in Mr. Hamilton’s office,” Mrs. Baker said, not answering my question. Her voice was quiet and strained, as if it pained her to speak any louder.

It was beyond weird. I wondered if she was always that emotional when she had to pull someone out of class.

She looked at me, inhaled sharply, and repeated, “Your mother is waiting for you.”

I was tempted to stop walking and demand answers from her. After all, if I was going to be kicked out of school, it’s not like it would’ve made much of a difference. But I quashed that urge and followed her up the broad stairs to the front office.

Just as Mrs. Baker had said, my mom was sitting with Mr. Hamilton in his office. Her eyes were puffy, and her usually flawless complexion was red and splotchy, as though most of her makeup had been washed off. I’d seen her enough times like this to know she’d been crying. It was unexpected. I’d always figured she’d be furious and raging if I was asked to leave her alma mater, not all weepy and emotional. I hesitated before I stepped into the room.

“Mom?”

She jumped up from her seat and raced toward me, arms outstretched. “Oh, Talia, honey!” She held me in a tight embrace, and her body heaved as she sobbed into my shoulder.

There was no way this was about me getting expelled.

“Mom, what happened?” I tried to wriggle free, but with the way she was clinging to me, I could barely move. “Is Dr. Griffin…?”

“I’m fine, Talia,” my stepfather said behind me. His voice was even, almost flat, and when I strained my neck to look at him, I noticed the lines on his face were more pronounced. He didn’t look angry, but there was an eerie stillness about him.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked once my mom loosened her grip.

Dr. Griffin turned to the principal. “Martin?”

Mr. Hamilton bobbed his head and moved to the open door. “Take your time.” He offered us an uncomfortable, tight-lipped smile before he left his office and shut the door behind him.

“Sit down, honey,” my mom said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. I sank into one of the leather seats but warily eyed them both, my senses on high alert. She crouched down so we were at the same level and took my hand in both of hers. After a deep breath, she said, “Talia, honey, your dad….” She tilted her head back, tears spilling from her eyes. I noticed there weren’t any traces of mascara as tears raced down her cheeks. She had been crying for a while.

“Is he demanding full custody of me?” I said, ready to jump to my feet. “Because I won’t go with him. I won’t!”

“No, no, sweetheart,” she said. “It’s nothing like that.” She took another deep breath. “He….” She hung her head. “I can’t, Rob. I can’t do it.” She dropped my hand, covered her face, and crumpled into a sobbing heap on the floor beside me.

I stared at her for a moment before I looked up at my stepfather. “Dr. Griffin? What’s going on?”

He knelt down to help up my mother and moved her to the chair beside me. After he handed her another tissue, he put his hand on her shoulder. “There was an accident,” he said. My mom whimpered but he continued. “It was a multi-vehicle collision on the 101 early this morning,” he said, referring to one of the freeways linking Playa del Lago and other North Valley communities to Los Angeles and its surrounding areas. “A semi jackknifed, blocking the eastbound lanes and precipitating a number of accidents.”

“Okay.” That seemed like a lot of random information.

“Eight people had to be airlifted to nearby hospitals.”

Mom let out a muffled sob, and he squeezed her shoulder.

“And my dad was one of them?”

Dr. Griffin paused before he shook his head. “As of now, Vince is the only fatality.”

I heard his words, but they didn’t connect. “You mean, he’s dead?” As soon as I said it, I knew it was a stupid question, but it was like my brain needed to hear those exact words to make sense of them.

He nodded. “The paramedics pronounced it at the scene.”

“Oh.” It was all I could think to say.

The whole thing was strange. I didn’t feel anything, but I knew I was supposed to. All I could muster was relief at not having to hang out with him next Saturday.

I watched my mother weeping softly into a soggy tissue. She hadn’t cried like that since before the divorce. Mom had remained stoic and unflappable since then, almost as though she’d closed a door on her feelings. And now her ex-husband — who let his pride and jealousy turn him into a cruel, raging monster — was dead, and whatever strength she’d demonstrated was suddenly gone.

Or maybe her strength had been a false front all along. Maybe there had been something more to my dad and their marriage than I knew or understood. Maybe her feelings for him never went away and had been there all along.

Whatever it was, I didn’t get it. She may have been crying over my father, but not me. I had no tears to shed. Not for someone who backhanded me and knocked me into a wall, all because I was trying to protect my mom.

Chapter Sixteen

After delivering the news, Mom and Dr. Griffin insisted I go home immediately and not go to school the rest of the week. I wasn’t going to complain about skipping classes, so I didn’t put up much of a fight, but I also didn’t know why they felt like I had to be there. I didn’t do much except sign for the flowers that arrived almost every hour and keep a list of who sent what so my mom would know whom to thank. It was almost like my dad’s friends didn’t realize they’d been estranged for years. It was crazy. My mom had already remarried, but she still wore black and acted like a grieving widow. Even stranger, Dr. Griffin didn’t seem to mind. It was almost as though he encouraged her.

His behavior was odd in general, though. I caught him watching me a few times, observing my every move as if he was waiting for me to blow up or burst into tears or something. I was sure my response — or lack thereof — disappointed him, or maybe worried him. I wasn’t angry about my dad’s death, and I certainly wasn’t sad. It was a nonevent in my world. I couldn’t avoid my stepfather indefinitely, though.

Two days after my dad died, Dr. Griffin found me in the kitchen as I picked at a bowl of chili Ally’s mom had brought over the previous evening.

“How are you holding up today?” he said as he slid onto the stool beside me.

I narrowed my eyes and pointed my spoon at him. “You know, whenever you ask a question, I’m not sure if you’re asking as a therapist or whatever.”

He grinned. “Which is easier for you to talk to?”

“No offense, Dr. Griffin, but I don’t have much to say.”

“When are you going to start calling me Rob?”

I smiled back though I inwardly groaned. Referring to him by his first name still felt weird, like we were supposed to try to be best friends or something.

“How’s she doing?” I asked after a while, my eyes raised in the direction of where Mom was resting upstairs.

He tilted his head and pressed his lips together. “She’s grieving, of course. And that’s to be expected.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Of course.” He gave me a curious look. “Grief’s a different process for everyone, Talia. She’s working through it.”

I let that sink in for a moment before I said, “Aren’t you weirded out by any of this?”

“No. Why would it be weird?”

I blinked a few times, surprised by his question. “Well, like, they’ve been divorced for a few years,” I said. “And she’s married to you now, but she’s all weepy and stuff. That doesn’t seem odd to you?”