For both our sakes.
Kane set the diary on the small table beside his chair and took a deep breath. He had read it with such intensity, the intensity of someone who had been there. He was wiping a few tears off his cheeks. I was emotionally frozen for a moment, from both what he had read and how he was reacting.
“Phew,” he said, shaking his head. “That was intense. Do you realize how often Christopher is on the verge of exploding, pounding on that door, and demanding an end to it all? I can’t imagine how he sleeps at night and how he holds himself together, seeing what’s happening to his brother and sisters. I don’t care how much faith he has in his mother or whatever.”
“Christopher? How about Cathy?”
“She’s always exploding,” he said. He laid his head back and closed his eyes.
I never expected him to react this way. Many times when I was reading the diary alone in my room, I would find myself as deeply emotionally involved as he looked like he was now, but I just assumed it was a girl thing, especially because of how closely I identified with Cathy. I realized that no one knew this side of Kane Hill, his sensitivity, maybe not even his parents.
Whenever I had an emotional reaction to something in the diary, I realized that whatever it was, it resonated because of something similar, some similar fear or sadness in my own life. What was Kane finding similar to his own life, which everyone at school, including me, saw as about as perfect and privileged as life for someone our age could be?
“That’s enough for today, Kane,” I said, standing. “I really want to get to my homework before my father comes home.”
He looked up at me with what I thought was both anger and disappointment in his face.
“I mean, we don’t have to rush through it, do we? It’s better if we take our time so we won’t miss something important.”
He thought a moment and then nodded and stood up. “Of course. You’re right. Let’s get at some homework, and then how about my taking you to have some pizza or something? We’ll go to the Italian Stallion.”
“I’ll have to call my father and see what he’s doing for dinner later,” I said.
We left the attic, and Kane paused in the doorway to look back as though he had forgotten something. I had taken the diary from him. There was nothing else. I looked at him quizzically, and he hurried past me and down the stairs.
“Wait!” I called.
He stopped. “You want to keep going?”
“No. You opened the window, remember? I told you we always have to remember to leave things as they were.”
“Oh.” He started up.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
He waited for me on the stairway. “Sorry. I won’t forget next time.”
I nodded, and we headed for my room. I slipped the diary under my pillow and went to my phone while he took his books out of his book bag.
“What’s up?” my father said, but not until after the third ring. I’d been preparing to leave a message.
“Are you busy?”
“Debating with the building inspector, which is par for the course. So?”
“You’re not coming home in time for dinner, right?”
“Right. I might have a bite with Mr. Johnson. His architect suggested some changes that will create new issues. I don’t know where some of these ideas are coming from.”
“What ideas?”
“Never mind. Why are you asking about dinner? There’s that roast chicken I prepared and—”
“Kane wants to take me for pizza at the Italian Stallion.”
He was silent for a few moments.
“Dad?”