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We moved to the elevator.
Eric looked at the wall beside it. “There’s no button.”
I pressed my thumb into the keypad, and the doors opened.
“No retinal scan?” Lexie asked as she crossed the threshold.
“This elevator isn’t like the one in Mrs. Johnson’s building. It has lots of buttons.” Eric searched the spot where the panel of numbers should have been.
A digital display offered two options. Lobby and PH.
“Press that one.” I pointed to Lobby.
Eric touched it, and the elevator ascended. His eyes grew wide. “What’s PH?”
Mercifully, we stopped and the doors opened to the lobby.
“This should look familiar.” I held back the doors to allow them out first.
“We usually come in over there.” Eric motioned to the glass front doors.
“How do we access the van?” Lexie asked as Eric rushed to push the up button for the other elevator.
“So eager to escape.” Did she always look for the exit routes, or was it just me she wanted to get away from? “I’ll wait here to see you out.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
Because I make you uncomfortable.
“I absolutely do.”
Red crept up her neck, and once again I felt satisfaction at making her squirm. That was a position I was comfortable in.
She and Eric disappeared into the elevator, and I found myself in the unusual predicament of waiting. I didn’t do that often because it allowed others the upper hand. In business, I dictated the pace. I was never the first to arrive, and I determined when a meeting was over. The control was mine, and it had served me well.
“Come, Lincoln.”
I hurried to my father, who stood next to the fireplace in the living room. “Yes, Father.”
“Have a seat.”
He took one of the chairs close by, and I sat in the other. My feet didn’t touch the floor, but I sat straight as if they could. As if I were as large as he was.
“We received a letter from school raising concerns over your persistent tardiness.”
Uh-oh. Panic tingled the base of my neck. “I—”
Father scowled, and I closed my mouth. He wouldn’t give me a chance to explain.
“Who do you obey above all else?”
“You and Mother,” I answered quickly.
“Very good.” He crossed one leg over the other. “Why are you late to class?”
“Because you told me to.” I’d done what he’d said. Was I in trouble?
“Excellent. And why did I instruct you to do that?”
