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THEODORE
By the time Friday came along, I was beginning to breathe a little bit easier. No one else had come for me. Thomas was still licking his wounds. I imagine being humiliated by someone as gorgeous as Carolina would sting his pride.
When I came downstairs so I could wait for Lea in the driveway, I stopped at the last stair at the sight of my father at the dining table.
With one hand, I held on to the strap of my backpack while I put the other in my pants pocket. I hoped I looked a bit restrained like Sal did and not a nervous mess. Don’t say my name. Don’t say my name. I was almost by the door.
“Theodore,” he called out for me.
Fuck.
“Father,” I said, turning around and mustering a grin. Maybe it was too much; he had to know it was fake.
My father just looked at me. His upper lip curled in disgust at the sight of my hair. “That’s how you went back to school?”
I held in my sigh and the urge to run my hands through my messy locks. When I was younger, I tried to be everything my father wanted, but that wasn’t me. It wasn’t until I got to high school and saw the other students. I realized what he was searching for. My father wanted the epitome of masculine energy. He wanted a son who was broader, more manly, a sports star, but instead, he got stuck with me.
Average height, lithe body, curly hair, and dimples. He either disliked the fact that I looked like my mother or that I was graceful in a way he figured women only were. Judge Lyons wasn’t stupid. He probably had an inkling that I preferred to be the one to take it rather than give it, but there was no evidence, and as long as I clutched onto Lea, he figured she was the best kind of beard there could be.
“The girls like it,” I shrugged, which wasn’t a total lie. Girls told me all the time—well, the ones that talked to me. I made the mistake of tugging my hair, and images of him pulling it while he fucked my mouth came to mind.
His eyes flashed, and I waited there, waiting for him to call me out on it. Sometimes I wanted to get caught in my lies. For someone to call bullshit on my “perfectly” crafted life. To watch as everything around me came crumbling down. Lies were an invisible rope that, with time, began to choke you.
“Why aren’t you signed up for debate this year? With the elections coming up, it will be at its prime. Schools will take that into notice.”
Right. Future politicians were playing at lawmaking, trying to emulate Mommy and Daddy. My mouth was set, trying to figure out the best way to answer my father.
“I already spoke with Mr. Olson, and he has agreed to let you back on the team.”
My stomach sank.
Fuck.
I opened my mouth in protest, but my father stood up, and I tentatively took a step back. He wouldn’t hit me. He was too wise and cautious to hurt me where it was visible. He knew financially was where he had me. For fuck’s sake, he didn’t even let me have a car, so I wouldn’t attempt to run away. He counted on the fact that Lea picked me up.
“You will rejoin the team, and maybe depending on how you do this year, we can talk about that other school you were thinking about.”
Hope soared through me.
He would let me go to the West Coast. Was this some sort of sick joke? I gulped, knowing what would happen if I joined speech and debate, but then I reminded myself that I had one hundred and seventy-six days of school remaining. Compared to the rest of my life, that was nothing—right?
“Okay, I’ll stay after school.”
He didn’t give me a pleased smile. He just nodded and walked away. When I stepped outside my driveway, Lea was waiting for me.
As soon as I slid inside her passenger seat, she knew I was in a mood.
“That bad?” She scrunched her nose.
“I have to join speech and debate again,” I croaked.
Her eyes went wide, and she gasped.
“You can’t!” she shrieked.
“If I do it, he’ll let me go to Sandford.”
She hit the steering wheel.
