Knife's Edge

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

As it turns out, Oscar's dad was in the mid-stages of a psychotic breakdown, brought on by – if you can believe it – finally attempting to get sober.

He was found not long after he abandoned Oscar at the bowling alley, caught by police and then escorted away by a crisis resolution team, to where he can now be officially diagnosed and treated.

Noah, the guy in the suit, was the one who tried to explain all of this to Oscar. He tried to persuade Oscar into the house, where they could talk away from all the "hassle" – a.k.a. us – but, after Oscar's third refusal, he resigned himself to having the "quiet chat" in the most private corner of the garden.

I stood close enough to hear parts of what was said, but far enough away so that Karen wasn't piercing me with a disapproving glare.

Bailey's right, her hair is dumb.

I listened as Noah gave Oscar a run-down of what the words 'psychotic breakdown' mean – the symptoms, the treatments, and the fact that it could've made his dad "do or say some things that he wouldn't normally do or say."

In short, Oscar's dad was sick. He genuinely believed there was a way to reunite his family, by joining his deceased wife so the three of them could be happy again, which is why he got violent with Oscar. He was angry at Oscar for choosing his new family over his old one and – from a psychiatric perspective, at least – none of it could be classed as Oscar's dad's fault.

But Oscar didn't want to hear it. He said he didn't care about his dad anymore, and that he wanted nothing more to do with the man. And, honestly, who can blame him?

His dad's current mental instability doesn't excuse the heap-load of crap he's thrown at Oscar in the past; it doesn't excuse his past words or abusive tendencies. It's only an explanation for what happened at the bowling alley and so, as far as Oscar seemed concerned, none of it mattered.

Noah, who seemed to realise this, soon decided it would be in Oscar's best interest if he just stopped talking – which, if you ask me, is the only good decision he'd made so far.

The other (not so good) decision made by Noah was to order the Crawford's to stay out of the conversation completely – a fact made obvious by the shared looks of frustrated heartbreak, plastered across George and Stella's faces as they watched from afar.

With Noah's attention away from Oscar's dad, the discussion soon moved on. This time, it was about the reliability of the Crawford's as foster parents.

Along came the individual interrogations – sorry, interviews – where the three minors of the household were each ambushed – sorry, invited for a nice chat – with Karen and Noah. The line of questioning was primarily about life living with Stella and George, and whether they could be considered responsible guardians.

Out came the bright smiles – yes, even Bailey's – as the three of them did their best to work some damage control. Then, when the discussions were over, Karen and Noah even took me aside for an interrogation, as well.

Every question thrown at me, I made sure to answer in the Crawford's favour – not forgetting to mention the one time laundry wasn't done on time because hey, no one is that perfect or they'd accuse me of lying.

Then, Stella and George were invited to their own little chat with Noah – one of many to come, I'm sure – and the four of us (yes, me included) were herded into Noah's vomit-coloured car so we couldn't sneak inside to eavesdrop. Karen even stood watch out on the driveway, just to make sure none of us made a break for it.

The car smelled of stale cigarettes, masked only slightly by the cheap pine air freshener that hung from the mirror. I hated it. From the scowls on the boys' faces, and the nasty twist of Bailey's lips, I could tell they all hated it, too.