Page 46 of Attractive Forces
I widen my eyes, so I can see the details of where we actually are. There’s no use in pretending.
On TV, the scene changes, and suddenly it’s in a prison. A scuffle breaks out between two characters, and we watch as one of the prisoners gets the shit kicked out of him.
Aaron seizes up, his breathing increasing.
“It won’t be like that for Dad,” I say without thinking.
“How do you know?” Aaron challenges.
“Because New Zealand prisons aren’t like that. Besides, he committed a white-collar crime. He isn’t locked up with violent offenders.”
Even as I say the words, I wonder how true they are. I’ve got no idea what Dad’s living circumstances are like. I haven’t wanted to spend time thinking about it.
But now I’ve opened the black box and questions are leaking out.
What is Dad doing right now? Is he missing us?
Mum said it was up to us if we wanted to communicate with him. But the way she said it, with her lips pinched tight, I knew she wouldn’t be impressed if we started coming out with Dad’s prison stories at the dinner table.
It’s seemed easier not to bother. To lock thoughts about Dad away in a drawer in my mind and throw away the key.
Aaron is looking at me now, and there is something almost…hopeful in his expression.
I know he must be missing Dad. They were so close.
My chest tightens.
I really, really don’t want to talk about Dad right now. After all, it’s not like I don’t have my quota of other crap to deal with at the moment.
I stand.
“I’m going to do some homework,” I say.
I pretend not to notice the disappointment on Aaron’s face as I leave. I swallow down the guilt rising in my throat.
We moved here for a fresh start. Doesn’t he get we’re trying to move on?
* * *
The next dayI’m at my locker blearily inputting my combination for the second time. I remember learning in health class that alcohol stays in your system for a long time, and it appears I’m living proof. I had to work hard to stay focused in class, and this morning in calculus, a horrible blankness settled over my brain as I tried to solve a difficult differential equation.
My locker door finally disengages just as I see Logan striding toward me.
Of course, I stand there like an idiot, so my locker door swings out and hits me. Awesome.
“Hey,” he says, pulling to a stop.
“Hey.”
“You recovered okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. Besides some coordination issues, but then I don’t know if I can blame that completely on being hungover.”
A smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth. “You free after school today?” he asks.
“Yeah. Why?”
“We just did isotopes in class, and I seriously don’t understand them. Can you fit in an extra tutoring session?”
