Finding Jaime

Chapter 39

Jaime POV

This sucks. Grounded for two weeks because Frank stole a couple hubcaps? Dad sucks.

I flopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. Mom wouldn't have grounded me. She would have just said 'I'm disappointed in you, Jaime' and that wound have been the end of it.

Now I had to babysit if my dad and Meagan wanted to go out.

I was lying on my bed, fuming, when Dad walked in. I sat up, angry that he'd just barged in.

"You just barge in now?" I asked, angrily.

"You've lost your privilege to privacy," Dad said, going over to my TV and unhooking my Xbox.

"How is that fair?!" I said. "Mom wouldn't have grounded me. Or barged in on me."

"When you decided abetting a crime was a good idea. You broke my trust," Dad said, not looking at me.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" I cried out.

Dad turned around and the look on his face stopped me in my tracks.

"Look here, Jaime, I don't know how lenient or strict your mom was. But you're living under my roof. Where you need to learn that you have responsibilities now. You have three younger siblings who, god knows why, look up to you. Meagan and I are doing our best to make sure they grow up to be good people. And I want you to grow up to be good people. I want to see you and your brothers and sister out in the world and be able to say 'those are my kids' with pride. I don't want to have to explain why my kid is in juvie."

"They don't send you to juvie for hubcaps," I said.

"They send you to juvie for stealing, Jaime," he said.

"The cops would have to catch us first," I said.

Dad stared at me. I don't think his face could have gotten any redder. I was seriously worried his head might actually explode.

"Jaime Clarke! Do you somehow not remember where I picked you up from today?!" He yelled.

I rolled my eyes.

"I can't. I am way too angry to continue this conversation and I don't want to say something I might regret. Stay in your room. We'll call you for dinner. I don't want to see you until then."

He left my room and pulled the door closed behind him. He didn't understand. Frank would get us out of any jam we got in. He knew guys who could help out. They'd done it before.

Pretty sure he's only worried how it'll look on him. Well, screw him. It's my life. I'll live it the way I want to!

I stayed on my bed fuming. I couldn't be bothered to do my homework. Homework was stupid and useless anyway. I mean, the teacher tells us it all in class. If you weren't paying attention, that's not my fault. Why make us redo everything?

There was a small knock on my door. I didn't answer. The door creaked open and I was about to yell at whoever it was. Until I saw it was Marvel.

"Hi Jaime. You still mad?" She asked timidly.

"I'm never mad at you, Marvel. I'm mad at Dad, though."

"Why?" She asked, coming over and leaning on my bed.

"Because he's mad for a dumb reason," I said, picking her up and sitting her on my bed.

"Daddy is sad at you," Marvel said.

"No, I think Dad is mad at me. And for a stupid reason,"

"No. Daddy said he's sad because you don't like him and he wants you to feel better.  And he wants you to like him. Don't you like Daddy?"

I sighed.

"You know what, Mar? It's complicated."

"What's 'compincated'?"

I smiled at her mispronunciation.

"I mean it's hard to explain. Right now I'm mad at Dad. But that doesn't mean I don't still like him. Just right now I'm more mad than liking him."

Marvel nodded.

"Daddy loves you. He said he wished you knowed that he loves you eben though he didn't get to know you."

"I bet," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Marvel asked me.

"Sure Mar."

"Mama loves you too. She said her heart hurts for you when you're sad or mad. She says she wishes her and Daddy could have known you before."

I hugged Marvel. Kids are brutally honest and with Marvel only being two, I doubted Dad put her up to this. She's an observant kid.

"Thanks for that, Mar," I said. She smiled up at me.

"Also, Mama said 'Marvel, tell Jaime it's dinner time.' So now we gotta go eat dinner. But I wanted you to be happy first," she smiled up at me. I rolled my eyes at her with a grin on my face and tickled her. Her laughter was musical.

"Okay, Marvel, let's go have dinner," I said and followed her out of my room and down the stairs.

Dad wouldn't look at me when I came to the table. That hurt. Meagan looked at Dad and then over at me. I just sat down. Bronx and Saint were looking around trying to figure out the sudden tension. I sighed. Quietly. To myself.

Marvel kept up a happy chatter only a two-year-old is capable of.

Meagan tried to get a conversation going and Bronx and Saint tried to participate, but with dad shooting daggers at me all through dinner, conversation didn't flow very fluidly.

When dinner was done, I turned to leave the kitchen.

"Not so fast, Speedy," Dad said. "You still have chores."

"How am I supposed to clear the table on crutches?" I shot back.

"You can dry dishes," he said, brandishing a towel.

I grabbed it from him and shot him a look. The look he shot back was almost venomous. I frowned at him.

I went over to the sink and started drying the dishes Bronx was washing.

"Why is Dad so pissed at you?" He asked quietly.

"Long story," I said. "Stupid story."

Bronx looked over his shoulder at Dad.

"I don't think I've seen him this mad. Except when my mom made you run away. I think he was madder then. Maybe he was scared. Either way, this is almost as bad as then."

I glanced at Dad who was wiping down a counter. I couldn't read what was on his face. He looked angry, sad and scared all at once. I frowned. What did he have to be sad or scared of?