The bus had gone quite a distance before I finally stopped looking back.Dad’s battered old car had turned down another street.My stepsister, Ruby Gisondo, was in the backseat, wrapped in his winter coat and holding a cup of hot chocolate.I looked down at my hands, red from the cold.That morning, Dad had promised to pick me up after school.He had sounded so certain. “I’ll be there. Cross my heart.”However, everyone else had already left, and he had yet to show up.I waited forty minutes before boarding the bus on my own.It was almost eight by the time I got home.All that remained on the dining table was half a plate of cold pasta, with a few pieces of overcooked broccoli mixed in.My stepmother, Freya Gisondo, was blow-drying Ruby’s hair.She barely glanced up when I came in.“There’s food in the kitchen. Heat it up yourself, and keep the noise down. It was Ruby’s first day at her new school. Some kids asked why she didn’t have a dad, and she cried all the way home.”
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