Losing Faith Read Online Free Page A

Dad and I had that huge fight about me not going to church. I was just about in tears because he was forcing me to go, then suddenly I stopped speaking in the middle of our argument and went to my room. I calmly made a list of my reasons and passed it over at dinnertime. And okay, this is totally not the same thing, but it did work.
    If I speak as little as possible, I can keep my delusional thoughts to myself until I’ve had time to process. That’s my plan, my guide to getting through this.
    She’s really gone, I tell myself again as Dad opens the front door.
    Nuisance lets out a loud bark when the two male police officers walk through into our house, but no one bothers to quiet him. Nuisance would sooner lick them to death than actively assault them.
    Mom sits on the edge of our sofa, and turns her eyes to the floor a foot in front of her. Her hair is falling out of its clip at the back and her wrinkled white blouse hangs loose out of her skirt. Dad unbuttons his suit jacket when he sits beside her.
    No one’s mentioned whether I should be here or not, so I lean against the French door joiningthe living room to the foyer, not committing to staying or leaving. Since the only other open seats are on the love seat across from Mom and Dad, the police officers spend a couple of uncomfortable moments adjusting themselves into it. If one of the cops wasn’t severely underweight, it could be a real problem. Nuisance likes this skinny guy though, and by the way he nudges his head under the cop’s hand, I suspect it’ll only be a matter of time before he attempts to find his own place on that love seat.
    The other officer clears his throat and the large pockmarks on his cheeks vibrate. “I know this has been an unimaginable night,” he says softly, looking between my parents. “These are just routine questions we have to ask. Please feel free to take all the time you need.”
    The phrase seems so weird since it’s not like they’re giving us time for anything. Sleep. A shower. All the time we need for what? To grieve? To let strange men into our house to ask questions? I take a few steps backward and hover by the coat rack. Fell off a cliff. Dead. Gone. I try to remind myself again of what is real, so I don’t laugh or something.
    “Can you tell me the last time you saw Faith?” the pock-faced cop says.
    Dad doesn’t hesitate. “Around six tonight.” He checks his watch. “Er, last night.”
    Skinny Cop marks it down in his small notebook. “And did she leave by car?”
    “We weren’t here,” Dad says. “But yes, she would have taken her car.”
    I guess no one noticed when we parked right behind her Corolla five minutes ago. “Actually, I think she got a ride with Celeste,” I say. Just after it leaves my mouth, I berate myself for so quickly neglecting my oath of silence.
    “Celeste?” Skinny Cop runs a finger over his notes.
    “Schwartz.” Dad fills in the blank. “Celeste Schwartz. Her best friend.” Skinny Cop makes a note in his book.
    Pock-faced Cop distracts me from wondering whether or not they’ve talked to Celeste yet with another question. “When was the last time you saw your sister, honey?” The way he says “honey” makes it clear that it’s just as uncomfortable for him as for me. This guy should be in traffic or something.
    “She dropped me off at quarter after seven at the church. But her car’s outside, so she must have come back.”
    Skinny Cop marks this down too. “And do you remember what she was wearing?”
    Now this seems ridiculous. It’s not like she would have changed clothes at the top of the mountain. “Um, jeans and a sweatshirt.” I point to the one beside Dad, and wonder where they found it. At the top of the mountain? Or the bottom. I’mstrangely numb at the thought. It doesn’t seem like it could be real.
    “And how was her mood when she left?” Both officers look at me.
    “Um, okay.” I gnaw on my thumbnail, wondering why they keep talking to