Spells and Cinders

Chapter 5

Graham:

The smell of fresh paint mixed with the stench of pathetic administration hit me as I opened one of the doors leading into the main office and stepped inside.

"Sup, Ms. Martínez," I said, strolling up to the front desk.

"Better late than never, I suppose, Graham," replied the middle-aged Hispanic woman, her eyes never leaving the computer screen in front of her. "Your father will be with you shortly. He's on an important call at the moment."

Of course, when is that man never on an important phone call? Damn.

I eyed the crystal glass dish filled with peppermints sitting untouched on Ms. Martínez's new cherry-painted desk. Taking one of the candies, I walked over to the many chairs pushed against the wall and sat down, unwrapping the red and white striped circular goodness and popping it into my mouth.

"What's up, player?" The chair next to mine scrapped across the tilted floor, and I turned to see Greenbay High's football star quarterback, Randy Beckett, holding multiple college brochures in his hand.

"What's with all the college brochures? You know, you only attend one college, Randy." I joked.

"Hilarious, Shaw." Randy rolled his eyes. "I'm meeting with Mrs. Carter about college plans and the earliest upcoming dates possible to retake the ACT and SAT," he explained, setting the brochures on the chair next to him and stretching his arms above his head. "My folks want me to attend a good-standing university in the fall after we graduate.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you attend Naugatuck Valley Community College first in Danbury and later transfer to a four-year university? You can have your associate's and bachelor's degree."

"That seems like the easiest option, but they don't want me to go to some local community college." He picked up the brochures with a simple shrug. "It's like they forbid it or something."

"Randy, I'm ready for our meeting if you are?" Mrs. Carter called from her office.

"Well, I'm off. Take care, player. See ya 'round." Randy gave me a fist bump and walked off.

I slumped back into the chair and rested my head against the brick wall, shutting my eyes. My mind soon became clouded with an image of Andrea. Her mesmerizing icy-blue eyes, golden blonde hair, and full pink lips.

God, what happened to her in the cafeteria was horrible. I hope she's doing okay.

Hearing a ding from inside my pocket, I pulled out my phone and saw a new message from my mommy dearest.

Going to Danbury Hospital after work today to check on your sister. You can come too if you want. Also, please ask your father if he'll come; Tara has been asking about him.
- Mom.

I sighed and typed a quick response.

Yes, I'll be there, and you should already know what Dad's answer will be.
- Graham.

Five seconds later, my phone dinged.

Don't be a negative asshole. Be a good big brother. I'll see you at the hospital - 4:00 pm on the dot.
- Mom.

Before slipping my phone into my pocket, I clicked on the notes app and opened a new page, ready to type out another poem I had lingering in my mind.

He cut her long blonde hair
He locked her in the tallest tower in the kingdom
He saw her every day, but no one else could
He kept her alive with false promises
and
He kissed her with lips of poison

"Graham." My father beckoned me into his office with no smile or open arms, only a head nod.

I stood up and stepped into his office. After the door closed, I took a seat in the worn-brown leather chair across from him and prepared myself for my ass-chewing.

"I'm sorry, the call with Barbara lasted longer than I hoped for. But how are you doing, my son?"

My father leaned back in his swivel chair and folded his hands behind his head. The minute he mentioned Barbara's, name his cheeks became red, and I wanted to slap him.

Two years ago, when Tara was first undergoing treatments for her leukemia, my father decided to split and leave my mother and her for Barbara, a twenty-six-year-old graduate from Yale University. Don't ask me how they both met because I couldn't tell you.

My father sat upright in his chair and cleared his throat. "I said, 'How are you doing', Graham?"

"Fine," I replied curtly, eyeing him up and down. "Mom wanted me to ask if you'd consider visiting Tara at the hospital later today."

"I would, Graham, but–"

"–but you can't. I figured."

You're a piece of shit, Dad. A total piece of shit. It's disgusting.

"I'm sorry. I have a special dinner date with Barbara that can't be postponed." He opened the top drawer of his desk and produced a small black box. "I'm going to propose to her tonight."

"Wait, so your only daughter is literally dying of cancer, and instead of visiting her in the hospital, you've decided to propose to some twenty-six-year-old girl, who you screw every night before your bedtime?"

He couldn't be fucking serious. This is some kind of twisted prank he's trying to pull, right? He's pulling my leg right now.

Standing up, I slammed my hand down on top of his desk. "Tara should be your top priority here, Dad. Don't you even care she's sick?"

Anger flashed in his eyes, and I knew I had crossed the line. "You better watch that smartass mouth of yours, or so help me . . ." My father's voice trailed off when he realized he couldn't beat my ass right here in his office.

"Fine, we're our own family and we don't need this bullshit from you, so piss off. Have fun with your new wife!"

Ms. Martínez called out to me when I slammed my father's door closed, but I ignored her. I didn't want to converse with any more adults, not now or ever.

The metal spiral binding of my notebook dug into my palm as I headed down the hallway toward math class, the worst subject in the history of school subjects.

I'd rather attend one trillion trigonometry classes than ever be stuck in that office with my cold-hearted dipshit of a father for one more millisecond.