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His dad was an abusive drunk who skipped out on his family. I curl my fingers into my fists, but there’s no enemy to fight, just his opinion of me that can’t go any lower.
Maybe he does actually hate me.
His brows draw together when I don’t say anything. “Maybe you’ll care more when you don’t have it so easy and have more time to think.”
I glare at him. But inside, a part of me coils into a tight ball.
“Give me your phone.” He holds out his hand. “You’re going without it until I see a consistent change in your behavior.”
“No.”
I snatch it away before he can take it. I don’t want him to read the texts I sent Peace. Opening the screen, I quickly delete them.
“Not that you care or believe me.” I toss the phone toward him, and he catches it. “But I only finish fights at school. I never start them.”
“You escalate them.” He gives me a sad look that makes my tense stomach turn sour.
I don’t even know what that word means, but I sure as shit won’t ask him to explain.
My dad doesn’t get why I fight, and he doesn’t seem to remember that you can’t back down when you’re being bullied. I’m done trying to reach him. I’m going to do what I want to do.
I don’t need him or anyone else. I have Peace to talk to.
Peace
I slink further into the pillows on my bed. My phone bloops with a notification. Turning my head, I read the text from Bo before it fades from the home screen.
“Peace,” my dad says, regaining my attention.
“Yeah?” I lean into my headboard and look at him.
“Did you hear a word I just said?”
“Yeah,” I say. Only I tuned him out since I’ve heard it all before.
“I’m going to have to take your phone away.” He frowns at me from his position at the foot of my bed.
“But—”
“If you’re sticking to your story, that it was your idea not Bo’s.”
“It was mine.”
I drop my chin to my chest. The candy-cane pattern on my pink pajama bottoms swims in the wetness in my eyes. I don’t like disappointing my dad, especially after feeling like we connected earlier today. But Bo is my friend.
“Then turn over your phone.” He reaches out a hand, palm up.
“Okay.”
I roll over, disconnect my phone from the charger on the nightstand, sit up, and offer it to him. The look he gives me as his ringed fingers curl around the case makes my stomach churn.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” I swallow hard.
“Apology accepted.” His brows draw together. “But I’m still going to keep your phone.”
“I understand.” But understanding him doesn’t make disappointing him hurt any less.
“Do you?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t seem like I’m getting through to you at all since Bo got here. I thought we made progress today. I thought sharing shit ... stuff, helped you understand me a little better. But then you go and do something like this right after, and it makes me feel like I’m wasting my time.”
