The Shape of Lost Things: Chapters 7–13

“No, there weren’t,” I say, and I don’t bother hiding the annoyance in my voice.

“What are you doing?” he asks, but there’s something angry in his voice, something that says he knows exactly what I’m doing: following him and eavesdropping on his conversation.

“I take umbrage,” Mom says, and because she says it a lot when she’s pretending to be annoyed, I know she means she’s offended.

I should be trying to find inspiration for my project for the art exhibition, but instead I am biting my bottom lip, worrying about if Not-Finn is pretending to be my brother and if Roger’s engagement plan is going to go well.

“If I may remind you about my patella syndrome,” Roger says, pointing to his knee on the ground, “but, you know, take all the time you need.”

“If I may remind you about my patella syndrome,” Roger says, pointing to his knee on the ground, “but, you know, take all the time you need.”

I am still breathing hard, and my pajamas are sweaty and my voice is rough and raspy like I’ve been screaming for hours. But I don’t think I have because no one seems to be awake.

“You’ve seen the ones people wear for masquerade balls and bits and bobs?”

“You’re going to have to choose an accent to stick with,” I point out.
“Well, why choose when I could do a mix of everything?” Now, he’s speaking with a lilt in his voice that I think is supposed to mean he’s Scottish.

“That’s Australian!” I shout after him.
He turns around and grins at me, his perfect teeth all showing. “Well, I’m a bit daft, then, aren’t I?” he says, back to British. “Cheerio!”

“You know, between you and Finn,” Mom says, exasperated, “just because you have a bad day, it doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.”

“This is about you, Skye, not Finn,” Mom says firmly. “Did something happen in your session with Lucie? I thought I could trust you to express yourself when you’re upset, instead of lashing out.”

Dad’s danger zones are saying something is unsolvable (as soon as you do, he starts trying to solve it), people who say extraterrestrial life is impossible, and people who say the world is flat.

“And Roger, I love you, but I think you should reconsider your musical catalog. ‘I Will Always Love You’ is clearly a love song. Feel free to support me on this, kids.”
“Feel free to support me and chime in on the correct side of history, kids,” Roger says, and I try to hear what he is not saying.

“It’s in the wrong place,” I say. Here it is: the absolute proof that Finn is Not-Finn. He put a fake scar in a different place.