Story Of Her Life.

Daddy Dearest.

Within the following weeks, Beth couldn't help but feel she had to be on her toes at all times. Al could have been lurking anywhere, so she found herself taking extra percautions she probably wouldn't have before. For instance, when she left her home, she actually activated the alarm system her mother always warned her to use. She never went out alone, anywhere. And in school, she could feel herself relax a bit knowing she was surrounded by hundreds of teachers, two of which were her absolute favorites.

When a month of complete silence from Al passed, Beth began to regain confidence in her mother's assumptions. She tried to carry on with her life and be as normal as it could be.

"Does spelling count?" A blonde girl from the back asked, flipping her hair back.

"Not really, but you can't put Jefferson for Adams and then say 'YOUSAIDSPELLINGDOESN'TCOUNT' when you get it wrong," Mr. Conklin explained mocking a teenage girl's voice. He had just finished explaining the test he was about to give, that Mr. Inman was copying, when another stupid girl asked an even stupider question.

The girl scoffed at his sarcastic reply and began to fiddle with the charms on her bracelet.

Beth tried to make small talk with Dana, but ended up making things awkward between the two. She loved her best friend to death, but couldn't stand lying to her about the best and worst parts of her life right now. But deep down, Beth knew all too well that Dana couldn't handle knowing anything. She'd tell the whole school, heck- she'd tell the whole town. She was probably one of the ones who made the whole Michael Miller thing expload into something it wasn't. But then again, Dana hadn't told anyone -that Beth knew about- about her living situation. It was so hard to argue with herself about being able to trust her best friend. She'd obviously had too many trust issues.

When she finally stopped arguing with herself, and Mr. Conklin made the lame "Stop talking, there are people trying to fail this test" joke, it'd already been twenty minutes, and she hadn't even opened her test booklet. She swiftly opened the first page and read the question, and the classroom phone rang. Everyone, as if instinct, looked up to see Mr. Inman answer the phone. His thick southern accent was fun to listen to.

"Beth for early dismissal?" Mr. Inman asked, rather than announced. The rest of the class went back to their test, but Mr. Inman and Mr. Conklin both shot her the same confused look. She shrugged her shoulders at them, and gathered her satchel and test materials.

She returned it, promising to finish later. Mr. Inman kept his eyes on her the whole time, obviously curious as to what was going on. When she reached the classroom door, she turned back to see her two History teachers watching her, with nervousness etched carefully on each of their faces.

Text You. She mouthed, hopefully Conklin would think it was ment for him, so he wouldn't be suspicious of Inman.

As she began the long walk down the staircase and up to the Main Office she couldn't help but wonder why her mother was signing her out in person, as opposed to just calling the secretary. Maybe it was something important. Beth's mind began to race, as she began to walk faster towards the front of the building. It was her father. Maybe he'd been spotted in town. Maybe he had tried something. As soon as she turned the corner to enter the front office, she saw something she never thought she'd see ever.

Al.

He was standing, clear as day in front of her. He sported a baby blue button up t-shirt, half tucked in, half out of his khaki shorts. His flip flops, which were slightly familiar to her, was slipped off of one foot. He leaned against the window seel, and when he senced her presence, he looked up, and smiled.

She looked behind the desk, the two Office Aids sat, playing on Facebook from Bug's computer. The ones that were sooooo distracted by Mr. Inman's butt the other day. Ef.