Down The Hall

Chapter Twelve

After school, I head straight to the kitchen for a snack. I couldn't even be bothered changing out of these baggy boy clothes because I was so hungry. With the range of options, I always find myself in front of the pantry, searching for the perfect after-school reward. I swear I have already gained 10 pounds since being here. I was like a mouse living in paradise, with all the junk food one could ask for.

After grabbing a box of Cheez-Its and some gummies I walk to the island in the middle of the kitchen and have a seat. I didn't have to worry about anyone coming in and seeing me in Henry's shirt or Tyler's gym shorts because everyone was out. The twins were at school, Dad was at work with Bradly, and Kendall said she had errands to run.

Henry didn't usually get home till later, but today I thought he would have already been here by now. With him out in my coffee-stained t-shirt, he couldn't be enjoying whatever it was he was doing. Ultimately, he did decide to change shirts with me so I didn't feel too bad about it. Actually, I liked the idea of his friends seeing him strut around in my shirt without a care. That wasn't the only thing I enjoyed.

I pushed the sleeve of the button up into my palm and brought it up to my nose. A smile began to form on my lips as I took in a deep breath of his lingering scent. The faint smell of his shampoo was like a shot of adrenaline through my body, which only heightened as I thought back to him getting undressed in the bathroom. I unconsciously sunk deeper into the smell, trying to capture more than what was emitting.

With being so caught up in my creeper turn-on, I didn't hear the sound of the car pulling in or the front door closing.

"What are you doing?" My Dad's deep, husky voice said, slicing through whatever tension I was having with myself and Henry's button-up.

Startled, I slapped my hand onto the table with a loud bang. He wasn't supposed to be home for a couple more hours.

"I was about to go take a shower," I said, closing up the box of Cheez-Its. I now didn't want to be in here any longer than I had to and my appetite had vanished just like that.

With him still at my back, I could hear his stomps getting closer with each shake of the house. I was now regretting not heading straight to my room after school. He walked into my view, scrutinizing my outfit with his eyes.

Loudly, before he could say anything, I cleared my throat and asked, "How was work?"

His face was stern. "Hard."

"Did you get off early or something?"

"Bradley said I was good to take off early."

Bradly is not only Dad's best friend but also his boss. He wouldn't have been able to get the corporate job without Bradly's recommendation, which is pretty lucky if you ask me. I guess this is what my Economics teacher meant when telling us to start networking early.

"That's nice," I said, ready to escape to my bedroom before something happened.

"Why are you wearing Henry's shirt?" He questioned.

I froze in place from hearing Henry's name. I didn't think he would be able to tell this was Henry's, but if he ran into him this morning he easily could have remembered Henry wearing this. I leave earlier because I have to catch the bus while Henry leaves later, at the same time as Dad.

I cleared my throat trying to buy time to find the words to reply to him. My eyes dart around the kitchen looking for anything to help cover my story. I nervously laugh and say, "This isn't Henry's!" I stand up out of my seat, showing him the whole outfit. "It's spirit week and today was Adam Sandler day. My friend gave me some of his clothes to wear for it. You get extra credit if you dress up. So," I rambled, before waving my hand down my outfit to seem more confident in my decision to participate.

I didn't think he believed me until he finally grunted and turned to the fridge. I sighed a breath of relief and smiled, proud of myself for getting past that trap. Marinating in my accomplishment didn't last long because he was already asking the next question.

"How was school?"

Grabbing the box of Cheese-Its off the island to put up I answered, "Easy as always."

I wasn't being cocky. I am just naturally really good in school. But I also didn't take AP classes, only honors so I guess it's pretty easy to be 'good in school.'

"Not getting into trouble?" He was rummaging around in the fridge.

"Nope," I said, putting away the box and pocketing the fruit snacks. "You know I'm a good kid."

Confiding in him about what happened at school would be a death sentence for me. He would blame me and yell at me for causing trouble like it was my fault it happened. It was never good for me to tell him anything going wrong in my life. He was already stressed enough, adding my problems just made him angry.

"I know you're a good kid."

I rolled my eyes to that bullshit of a compliment. He sure doesn't treat me like a good kid. Love me like a good kid. Or even trust me like a good kid. In my entire life, I never once saw him treating this 'good kid' as someone to be proud of. I know he said that to look like the good guy.

"Yeah," I said, leaving the kitchen and escaping to my room.

Moments I had with him like that were torture. Without communicating, I can already feel this disconnect that has been there since I was little. When we communicated that disconnect was heightened from the tense, awkward atmosphere of the conversation. I could feel how much he didn't care like a punch in the stomach every time he felt obligated to talk to me, his daughter.

I wish he liked me. Maybe if he and Mom never got a divorce he wouldn't be so cold. It's too bad I was too young to remember how they were together. Obviously, it must not have been that good since they divorced but there must have been some ounce of life in him.

Mom couldn't have been any better. She left and never showed up to see me in 13 years. The only thing we see from her is $250 in monthly child support, and that's court-ordered not willingly. At least Dad stayed to take care of me and provide. Complaining about my life is the least I should do since I have a roof over my head and clothes on my back. But I can still wish things were different, even if it was the smallest thing like having my father act like a father.