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Chapter Eighteen
Twyla let herself into the house, dropped her backpack on the floor beside the doorway and then thought better of it and hung it on her hook. She wasn’t the neatest person, not by a long shot, and she didn’t really care if stuff was all over, but her daddy did care and she liked to make him happy, especially after everything he’d done for her.
She went to the fridge to get a snack, settled on a piece of toast with peanut butter and a banana sliced on top, with a glass of milk. The first time Mr. Fox had seen her eat this, he’d called her his little monkey, and when she made monkey noises back at him, he’d tickled her until she couldn’t breathe. She smiled just thinking about it.
She went to sit down at the dining room table and there was a note leaning against the little bud vase full of wildflowers she’d picked from the backyard over the weekend.
Little Girl,
Please come to the nursery when you’re done with your snack. I love you.
Your Daddy
Twyla flushed, half with delight, half with panic. Her daddy had told her he loved her what seemed like a million times now, and she never got sick of it. It made her feel special and squeezy inside whenever he did, like her whole body was blushing.
It had been a long time since anyone bothered to tell her that she was loved. That was the delight. She also loved his sloppy, loopy handwriting. It was the only messy thing about him.
The panic, though… It was about her physics test. She couldn’t imagine that Miss Williams hadn’t said something to Mr. Fox. Or at the very least to Principal York and hedefinitelywould’ve said something to her daddy. What exactly Miss Williams had said, Twyla didn’t know. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t have been good.
She managed to eat her entire piece of toast because even though it wasn’t as enjoyable now that her stomach was in knots, she knew Mr. Fox would get that crunched-brow, frowny-mouth look if she didn’t follow his instructions and she didn’t want to get into any more trouble than she already was. It had been hard, but she hadn’t been punished at all and she had the sinking feeling that was about to end. Being good was really, really hard.
When she was finished and had put her dishes in the dishwasher and wiped up her crumbs, she made her way upstairs. Slowly.
She went through the bedroom where she and Daddy slept every night and through the bathroom where he gave her baths and let her play with tub toys and into the nursery. She usually loved being in the nursery with her toys and her dollhouse and the tea set he’d bought for her, but now she really did feel like a little girl—a little girl who had been naughty and she didn’t like that, not at all.
There he was, in the rocking chair, and he didn’t smile when he saw her. He always smiled when he saw her and it hurt now when he didn’t.
Getting in trouble had never been fun exactly, but for the most part she’d told herself she didn’t care. Which she’d come to realize was a lie. She liked being good so much better. The problem with being good though was that it was hard. Especially when she had to be good all the time. Who could be that perfect and not die?
Twyla held her hands behind her back and dug a toe into the plush carpet of the nursery. It was a soft grey, and she loved it. It was comfy to sit on and nice to rub.
“Did you have your snack, little girl?”
She nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl. Now come sit with me. I think you know we have something very serious to talk about.”
Twyla paused. She could run away. Leave this house and not come back. Maybe her parents wouldn’t have even noticed she was gone. They hadn’t seemed to; she hadn’t talked to them since the day Mr. Fox had tried to bring her back…home wasn’t the right word anymore.Thiswas her home. There was no way she could leave. If he made her go that would be one thing—and it would crush her—but she wouldn’t choose to leave. No, he’d have to drag her kicking and screaming away from here.
So for as much as it made her stomach heave, Twyla went to him. Mr. Fox patted his lap and she sat automatically, resting her head on his shoulder and putting a hand to his chest in her favorite spot, the place where she could feel his heart beat. Well, no matter what happened, at least she would still have this.
“Miss Williams came to my office this afternoon. Do you know why?”
Twyla closed her eyes and shrank into herself. Yes, she knew why. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
She at once loved and hated that she was being given a chance to explain herself. Loved it because because she was rarely given a chance to give a reason for her behavior—people assumed they knew; it was because she was bad.
She also hated it because now she had to talk about her feelings and let Mr. Fox know her worst fears and doubts and that sucked. What if he used them against her? Why wouldn’t he?
Twyla sat up not so much because she wanted to look at him as she made her confession, but more because she didn’t feel like she deserved to be held anymore. Everyone was right, she was bad.
“I cheated on my test. I looked over at Autumn’s paper and I copied her answer.”
Mr. Fox nodded solemnly. “And?”
“And when Miss Williams talked to me about it, I was rude to her.”
