Not the Only One (Book 1 in the Four of Us Trilogy)

Thirteen

Miles

When I got home from baseball practice, Dad's Land Rover wasn't in the driveway, and I breathed an enormous sigh of relief. I was certain that Vice Principal Milton had called him already to inform him of my detention. Dad was going to be furious. But since he wasn't here yet, I had a bit of a reprieve.

I put the Jeep in park and hopped out. As I unlocked the door, my phone dinged in my pocket. It was Rachel.

Hey Miles, how did it go with your dad?

I had told her after lunch how worried I was about my dad's reaction and the fact that she had thought to ask made me smile despite my anxiety. I hung my backpack on the rack in the hall and threw myself down on my back on the couch.

he actually isnt home yet so im safe for now. What did ur parents say?

They were pissed, but they'll get over it.

I wish that could be my dad's response... it would've been if my mom were still here.

well thats good. hey wanna have breakfast before school tomorrow?

She answered immediately.

I'd like that. Can we go to the Donut Hole?

sure. want me to pick u up?

Yeah. 624 Seahorse Lane, near Grand Panama.

ok be there @ 6:45

Okay... text me after you talk to your dad.

will do

Just then, I heard my dad pull into the driveway. I closed my eyes. Here we go, I thought. I jumped up and went into the kitchen, figuring if I looked like I was doing some chores he may go easier on me.

The door opened, and he slammed it behind him, walking into the kitchen. I inhaled as I waited for him to scream at me. 

"Hey Dad," I said, wiping off the counter with a Clorox wipe.

"Miles, do you want to tell me why I got a phone call from your vice principal today?" he started, pulling a stool out and perching on it, folding his hands on the countertop. He was eerily calm.

I swallowed. "I skipped school half the day yesterday," I said. I knew Milton had told him; there was no point in trying to lie.

"And why the hell would you do that?" His voice was so quiet, it was deadly. I would rather he yell.

I couldn't tell him the real reason. "Honestly, Dad, I just had to get out of there for the day. I felt like I was suffocating. I was so stressed." It wasn't entirely untrue.

He scoffed. "Son, you have a lot of growing up to do. You do not understand what stress is."

Anger burned in my stomach. How dare he say that to me? Did he not realize that all the shit he put me through every day made me a walking ball of nerves? But I pushed the anger down. "I'm sorry, Dad. It won't happen again, I swear. Coach Wilkins made me run laps today during practice. I ran until I puked." That part was true.

Dad laughed. "I guess that's punishment enough." And shocking the hell out of me, he got up, got a beer out of the fridge and retreated to his office.

He stopped halfway down the hall and called back, "Sorry about the bruise, Miles."

I was facing the window, so when my mouth dropped, he didn't see it. I couldn't believe it; he had never shown a trace of remorse for hitting me. I didn't even know what to say, but I didn't have to answer because I heard his office door snap closed.