"I'll call you tomorrow," Arnold promised. They all made the same promise and then
started out. I followed them to the doorway and
watched them descend the stairs before turning back
to Belinda.
"Wasn't that nice?" she asked.
"Which one was it, Belinda?"
"Pardon?"
"You know what I mean. Who was the father?"
She shook her head.
"I told you. I don't know, Olivia. Besides,
Daddy said we shouldn't talk about it anymore," she
cried, turning her face to the pillow.
"Was it one of them? It was, wasn't it?" "Please, Olivia."
"Does he know, whoever it is? Does he know
what happened in this room?"
"Stop it, Olivia." She put her hands over her
ears. "I won't listen to you."
I closed in on her.
"Did you call him and tell him what went on,
what your father had to do? Did you?"
"No. I don't know who I would call, I told you." "Disgusting, Belinda. It's disgusting enough to
do what you did, but to not know . . ."
She started to cry.
"I'm going to get sick again and I won't be able
to return to school," she threatened.
"Won't that be a great loss for the school," I
muttered.
I left her sniffling and went downstairs to find
Daddy. He was in his office filing some papers. It was
where he kept all our personal tax documents and