Chapter 14 - Downtown

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Dinner was the usual awkward lame-fest. After the New York fight—which had dragged on all weekend—Mom and Dad didn't have much to say, and what little they did wasn't nice.

I went to my bedroom to kill time before I caught the bus downtown to Faith's. I picked up the Allura Demone novel and crawled under the covers. Just as I was getting to a really dirty part, the kind that sent my blood rushing, the door opened.

Dad walked in. “Hey, Pumpkin, I—”

I hid the book under my blanket. “Oh my God! Don't you knock? What if I'd been getting dressed?”

“Sorry.” Dad stepped inside and shut the door. “I came to apologize about dinner and the last couple days. I know they've been tense.”

“It's all right,” I said.

“No, it's not.” He sat on the edge of my bed and patted my leg. “I want you to know I'm sorry, and I'm sure your mother is too.”

I scowled. “Then why doesn't she tell me herself?”

Dad spread his palms in a helpless gesture. “You know how hard it is for her to admit she's wrong. She'll come around; she always does.”

I said, “Yeah,” but without much enthusiasm.

“Anyway,” he said, “I was thinking maybe we could watch some TV? That show you like is coming on at eight. What's it called? Pretty Little Liars?"

“I'd love to, but I gotta run to the library. I'm supposed to do a report for Mr. Heap, and he says we're not allowed to look stuff up online. We have to use real books! Can you believe that?”

Dad smirked. “Actually, I can. Let me give you a ride.”

We left in Dad's beige Camry, taking the back way down the hill to West Bay Drive and the water. Fancy houses perched on the hillside. They had views of Puget Sound and the port, but the shoreline was rocks and gravel dominated by the burned-out shell of the old Reliable Steel Mill. The city had built a park next to it.

Ahead, two parallel bridges connected the westside to downtown, separating Capitol Lake from the Sound. The State Capitol building stood on a tree-topped bluff overlooking the polluted water below.

Dad took the first bridge. That put us on Fourth Avenue, the main street that ran through the heart of Olympia. Downtown was a twelve-block wasteland that felt like another world: a world of crumbling hundred-year-old buildings, weird stores, and even weirder people.

The city had hung Christmas lights on the lampposts to make it feel cheery, but that only made it more depressing. The daytime was run by hippies and men in suits, but after dark, gangs of sketchy teens, drunks, and filthy homeless prowled the streets. Bad things happened here.

Dad took a right on Franklin, heading toward the library on Eighth. He pulled in front of the single story red brick building and cut the engine. An old homeless man covered in newspapers slept near the front door. A man and his young daughter came out, happy and laughing, holding armfuls of books. They walked by the man as if he wasn't there.

Dad said, “Remember when I used to bring you here for story hour?”

“Yeah, sure.” They were good times, but in the past—a past when I'd believed the world was kind and I could grow up to be anything. “Look, I gotta get my report done, so I'll see you later.” I reached for the door handle.

“Hang on.” Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “I could come in and wait for you, catch up on my reading.”

“What? No, Dad! I'll be fine. It's only for a couple of hours. Pick me up at nine?”

He stared at the homeless guy before unlocking the car doors. “You've got your phone, right?”

I held it up. “Right here, charged and everything.”

“OK, but I don't like leaving you down here alone.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God, Dad! I won't be alone. The library's full of people.” I didn't tell him what kind, and I sure as hell didn't mention the box for used needles in the ladies' room.

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