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“You sit tight,” his voice pulls away from the phone slightly, like he’s covering the speaker. “I’m not happy with you, either. Who are these people she’s staying with that just let this go on under their roof?”
“Do you expect them to do it in the car like we always did?”
I press my lips together to stifle my laugh.
“I can still hear you when you cover my ears,” James says loudly, to Mom, I assume.
I head to the shower. “Nobody’s doing anything,” I assure him.
But my dad just gripes, “Goddammit,” and I hear a door slam shut.
He probably went into his den for privacy.
He hasn’t said happy birthday. He’s definitely not concerned with the other pictures of me breaking into the school.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
“I want you to find a new hobby.” His reply comes quickly. “I’m glad you’re ambitious and excited, but you don’t know the world yet. Trust that I do, and there are a dozen other things you’ll love just as much, if you open your mind.”
I drop my eyes, clenching my teeth. He just doesn’t get it. I’m in love with motorcycles. I’m in love with racing.
“And I want you to behave,” he continues. “There’s nothing to prove. I don’t know why you act like there is.”
I shake my head. He says that to me? Right now? At the same time he’s trying to make me feel like I’ll never be able to have what I really want? There’s everything to prove.
“Won’t you ask me what I want from you?” I press.
He says nothing. Because of course, he’s perfect. Everyone else is wrong.
“I want to feel like I don’t always have to lie to you,” I tell him, but a sob lodges in my throat, making it almost a whisper. “I’m not bad, you know?”
Tears fill my eyes.
I’m pretty great, and he shouldn’t forget it. I’m not letting him make me forget that, either.
He doesn’t say anything, and I simply tell him, “I have to go to school.”
I hang up, but I doubt he wanted the conversation to continue anyway. He won’t apologize or admit he’s wrong, and he’s not ready to surrender. Let him process for a while.
I start the shower, scrolling through texts, TikTok, Instagram, and Snapchat, seeing the picture of Hunter and me everywhere. Pirates are talking shit, and the Rebels aren’t helping.
I power off my phone. “Great.”
I strip down, even though I had a shower last night.
Standing in front of the mirror, steam fills the bathroom, and I gaze at myself in the mirror.
Someone is always going to misunderstand me. Everything I do will be a problem to someone.
All I can do is what I must. “You’re going to be someone’s villain,” I say into the mirror. “So be their fucking villain.”
I turn off the shower, get dressed, and grab all the money Hawke gave me.
I walk briskly through the school parking lot, gazing around haphazardly at the sparse number of cars. I’m about forty-five minutes early—on purpose—but there are usually a few more people here by now. Track and band have morning practice, but there’s no one around. No sounds. The place is nearly empty.
I jog up the steps and dive into the school. Following the same route that I took when I explored on Monday, I hurry down the hall, to the stairs, and descend to the lower level. I run into the auto shop and spin around, looking for a crowbar. Spotting one on a rack, I snatch it and leave,glancing through the door to my left and spot the empty cage. The guys aren’t working out this morning.Hmm.
I leap back up the steps, all the rushing keeping me warm during the chilly morning.
