Page 99 of As You Walk On

But she never did.

So now I do. I tell him about the Kroger incident. How hard it was watching him walk around like he had nothing left. How all I wanted was for him to be himself again. And ditching Aleah did that. It fixed his broken heart.

Or I thought it did.

Dad’s pale. His mouth opens and closes like a fish ripped from the water. He’s barely inhaling. The sting behind my eyes increases.

We’re both quiet for a long time.

Dad’s hands tremble. “You’re going to apologize to Jay’sparents,” he eventually says. “Then you’ll ask for that letter. Focus on track. Your grades.”

“Dad,” I attempt.

His eyes finally meet mine. “Get the hell out of this place so you don’t repeat the same cycle our family’s been living in for generations.”

I flex my fingers on the table. Count backward from five. Anything to cool the frustration I feel bubbling up again. Nothing works. I need to tell him what I’ve always been too scared to admit.

“I’ve never hated our life here,” I say. “I’m not embarrassed to be a Wright. I’m proud, unlike you.”

My eyes fall on The Plan again and I spit out, “The only reason I’d want to leave here is to escape the shadow of being Miles Wright’s perfect son!”

Regret immediately hits me. I guess I don’t know how to get anyone to hear me without being hurtful.

Dad looks past me like I’m a clone and he’s trying to find the real Theo.

Maybe Jay and I aren’t that different.

After a long beat, Dad’s chair scrapes against the floor. He pushes back from the table. Purposefully, he avoids my gaze. In one long swipe of the eraser, half the blue marker from the whiteboard is gone. Dad slouches as if he doesn’t have the energy to finish.

“You’re grounded. For all of spring break. Starting now,” he whispers.

“Dad, I—”

“No phone. No leaving the house unless it’s for a run. No Wi-Fi. Use my laptop for all your assignments that require internet,” hecontinues as if I never opened my mouth. “No friends either.”

Not a problem. I don’t have any left.

“I won’t force you to apologize to the Scotts,” he starts. “I’ll fix it. And this Aleah thing...”

He trails off, grabbing his phone. The back door squeaks open. Unfiltered sunlight pours in. The glow highlights the exhaustion in Dad’s face. He looks so much older. Defeated too.

“Decide who you want to be,” he croaks. “Or you’ll end up like me—alone.”

The door closes with a heavy thud.

Out of everything we’ve said, that last word hurts the most.

It’s true. There’s no TNT. No new friends from Maddie’s bedroom. No prom. No real future to look forward to.

Only loneliness.

It takes a minute before I leave the table. Exit the kitchen. In the living room, I catch a glimpse of one photo on the wall. Granny and me at Pride. Our ginormous smiles brighter than the blue sky and rainbow flags in the background.

I remember Dad hoisting me up on his shoulders afterward. Our laughter flying all the way into the clouds. Granny holding his hand as we marched through summer heat.

I wanted nothing more than for Dad to feel the same way I did about him that day:proud.

Today’s not that day.

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