Spiraling Read Free Page A

minutes, I was able to bribe them to go to their room with a handful of cookies each. Then I started dinner. Spaghetti with meatballs was on the menu.
    My stepfather, James, walked in the house as I strained the pasta. He set down his briefcase on the kitchen counter and checked the answering machine. There was a message from one of his friends about his Saturday night poker game. Someone’s wife had to go out of town so they needed to change the venue.
    “Did you mess with the Caller ID?” he asked after the message ended.
    I looked up from the pasta. “I just checked to see if—”
    “How am I supposed to know which calls I missed, Tori? You know you aren’t supposed to touch the Caller ID until I have the chance to look at it. I pay for the telephone in this house and if you want the privilege of using it, you’ll obey my rules. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, sir.” I nodded. “I’m sorry.”
    “Is dinner ready?”
    “I just need to set the table and get the—“
    “Get it done. I need to make a call.”
    He picked up the phone and walked out of the room. I quickly set the table, then poured the pasta and sauce in separate serving bowls. James didn’t like pots being placed at the table and preparing plates over the stove was unacceptable as far as he was concerned. I put the large bowls in the center of the table. Then I retrieved the Parmesan cheese wedge out of the refrigerator and the grater out of the utensil drawer. Along with the rest of his eccentricities, James preferred fresh ingredients. He would not allow a plastic container of pre-grated Parmesan at the table, so I put the wedge and grater on a small plate and set it next to the sauce bowl.
    The twins put up a fight about eating dinner. Neither of them wanted to stop playing. It was a battle to get them to wash their hands and faces, let alone sit still during dinner. They danced around in their chairs the entire meal while James berated me because he thought the pasta was undercooked. After we’d finished eating, I got the twins in a bath and cleared the table.
    There were enough leftovers to feed a couple people even after I’d taken a plate to my mom, so I dumped them onto a large plate and covered it with cellophane. My older brother, Christian, hadn’t made it home in time for dinner and I knew he would be hungry.
    “What are you doing?” James asked.
    “Making a plate for Chris,” I answered.
    “You are on a roll today, aren’t you?”
    “I didn’t think—”
    “That’s right, you don’t think. We don’t save leftovers. Throw it out. If your brother can’t be home in time for dinner, he doesn’t need to eat. I’m tired of his disrespect. We have a schedule in this house. He knows what time we have dinner every night.”
    “But—” We’d had dinner an hour earlier than usual because of James’ meeting.
    “Throw it out!”
    I pulled the cellophane off the plate and dumped the spaghetti in the trash. James watched me for a minute while I loaded the dishes into the dishwasher, as if he was worried I’d get the spaghetti back out of the trash. When he was satisfied I wasn’t smuggling any food for my brother, he picked up his briefcase and headed for the front door. I finished cleaning up the kitchen, got the twins out of the bath, put their pajamas on, and had them play in their room while I cleaned the bathroom.
    When all evidence of the twins’ bath was gone, I picked up the front room. There wasn’t much to clean. The twins had pulled out some toys and thrown the sofa pillows on the floor, but otherwise, it didn’t look dirty. The phone rang as I put the last toy away. I hurried into the kitchen to answer the cordless before it disturbed my mom. She got irritated if she was bothered while she was working.
    “Hello?” I put the receiver to my ear.
    “Tori?” Kennedy asked.
    “That’s my name. What’s up?”
    “Mom said you called earlier. Did you talk to Jason?”
    “I did.”
    “What did he say?”