Page 98 of Darling Beasts

Dad chuckled through his nose. “This campaign hasn’t always been smooth,” he said, speaking with his eyes shut. “But whatever happens, I don’t regret it. My old life wasn’t working, and I had to try something different. I’m glad I did while there was still time left on the clock.”

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Ozzie

They tiptoed out of the hospital room, Ozzie bringing up the rear. As Talia and Gabby strode ahead, arms locked, Ozzie glanced back.

“Hey, Pops,” he said quietly. His dad opened one eye. “I wanna say... you did a good job, like, overall. Big picture. Don’t beat yourself up.”

Dad pressed his lips together. Not a smile, exactly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything. But especially...” He swallowed. “Sending you to Utah was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Oh. Yeah. We’re chill.” Ozzie’s stomach low-key churned for reasons not even he understood. Maybe he was afraid of what Dad would say, or what he’d leave out. When it came to Canyonside Academy, there were no right words.

“No. Seriously, son.”Son. One brush with the word and Ozzie’s shoulders hiked up to his ears. “I need to explain where I was coming from. You were... acting out.”

“Setting fires for funsies, you mean.” Ozzie was teasing, but also telling the truth, and it was one of those moments where he had to stop and think,Wait, maybe I did deserve to spend some time in the teenage prison experiment.

“Funsies. Yes. Very fun,” Dad grumbled. “It wasn’t the fire, per se, or the fact you were suspended. It felt like an escalation, and I was terrified of what might come next.”

Dad was in this state of mind when the headmaster at Ozzie’s school pushed a brochure across the table. Canyonside Academy. When good kids went south, they could turn them back around. And look at this place! A top-notch facility with beautiful dorms (barracks, really), an indoor pool (stock photo), a restaurant-quality kitchen (garbage food), and a cutting-edge education (Ozzie never set foot in a classroom).

“It seemed like the answer,” Dad said, his eyes watering again. “And I wanted so badly tofixwhatever was going on with you.”

“Of course you did,” Ozzie said. “Preying on parental desperation was their business. Thousands of parents fell for it, but unlike most, you actually listened when I told you the school was run by sadistic motherfuckers. They probably swore I was a manipulative, lying little shit and not to believe a word out of my mouth.”

“Yes.” Dad glowered. “They did.”

“But you saw through it and said...” He raised a hand. “Not today, assholes. So you’re the number one dad, and that’s just math.”

“The worst part is, I had a bad feeling long before the broken collarbone, but I couldn’t admit I’d made a mistake. God, I was so angry,” he said, face reddening.

“Uh, Dad. Deep breath, ’kay?” Ozzie checked the machine next to his bed, half expecting it to start wildly beeping.

“I was mad at myself, furious with them. I thought the settlement would somehow make it better. Right some wrongs.”

“You did get the place shut down. So that’s something.”

“I guess. But it felt so hollow. And now I know declaring victory allowed me to move on, when I should’ve spent time looking back.” Dad exhaled. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I’m proud to be your dad. You’ve built a life for yourselfin spiteof me. You play Degenerate Oz, but you’re not that person at all.”

Ozzie smiled thinly, thinking,The Internal Revenue Servicemight beg to differ. “Aw, thanks. We’re all out here doing our best.” Hopefully his best would be enough. “And don’t worry, Dad. I forgive you,” he added, grinning now, because he meant it. “Period.”

December

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Gabby

I’d never viewed birthdays as a big deal, but Sydney considered twenty-five a milestone, million-dollar check or not, and thought it deserved celebration. We could also make the event a quasi–welcome home party, she decided, even though I was only gone for two months.

“Go home, Bags,” Dad had said from his hospital bed when I told him I was leaving the campaign. My heart wasn’t in it, I explained, and he nodded, his expression full of understanding. “Go,” he said. “Get out there and do good things.”

Now, three weeks later, at seven o’clock on a Friday night, I was walking into the theater barn, which Sydney decked out with pink-and-gold streamers and handcrafted bronze butterflies attached to the walls. Finger foods were set out on long tables, and the actor who played Daddy Pig manned the bar.

“Sydney!” I said, a smile spilling across my face. “This place was a regular barn this morning. It looks incredible.”

“I love shit like this. I hope you’re not offended by the theme.”

I peered up at the animal garlands crisscrossed overhead—monkeys and gators and lions. Flamingos, of course. “No cassowary, no problem,” I said.

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