Page 54 of Apparently, I’m Trouble

She twisted her lips, like she was tasting the words in her mouth, weighing them. Then she spat them out. “I don’t like it here, Dad.”

I let her words settle and watched her expression shift as I replayed the last few weeks in my head. She seemed okay. She had the play, her castmates. That Miles kid. She and Rochelle were closer than ever. What changed?

“I want to go back.” Back to Oakhaven.

We couldn’t go back there. Not now. Not after losing Tash the way we did. Not after the promise I made to her. I wouldn’t go back and risk finding my daughter under her bed, having a panic attack.

“Kira, we can’t. Not now.”

“I know Mom wanted me to do this, but I don’t think I can.”

She blinked fast, her eyes filling with tears. I tried to wrap my arms around her, but she shifted out of reach.

“She wanted you to be happy, Kira, and you have been. I know–”

“I hate it, Dad,” she blurted. “Miles is the only person who’s actually nice to me.”

This made me pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she bit out, “that everyone else here is an asshole. And I want to go home.”

I ignored her language and spoke softly. Angry demands wouldn’t work on her, and I needed answers. I needed to know how long she had been feeling like this.

“But you have friends here, and I don’t just mean Miles. You’ve got Amber and Natasha. They’re your friends, aren’t they?”

She kept her arms crossed as she said, “Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Miss Walker gave me a good grade on one of my papers, and Amber said it’s only because I’m–”

She broke off.

“Because you’re what?” I prompted. She hesitated. “Kira, I need to know what she said.”

“Sleeping with Miles. She thinks he’s helping me cheat.” She winced and scraped her teeth across her tongue, like she wanted to wash her mouth out.

I forced in a breath, but it didn’t help. My vision was stained red. “That fucking little–”

“Don’t say anything.” She wrapped her small hand around my wrist. “Please, Dad. It’ll only make things worse.”

“I have to say something.”

“No,” she begged. “It won’t make her stop.”

My voicemail ringtone buzzed as I said, “Kira, I’m not going to let anyone get away with saying shit like that to you.”

I gave her a look, the one I used to let her know there’d be no arguing with me. Her face crumbled as she dropped into a chair.

I picked up my phone, my hands shaking with so much fucking rage, and, without looking at the screen, listened to the recording.

“Mr Hudson, this is Miss Fares calling. Kira’s teacher, Miss Walker, has reported some–”

“–if they think this is–”

“–unwelcome behavior in the classroom–”

“–It’s not okay–”