Dont F*ck With Me

Chapter Eleven: Cassie

My dad was going to kill me. Like seriously and genuinely dead, kill me. I'm so fucked. I can feel my back throbbing already and I'm barely out of the hospital doors. I should've been home hours ago and this man is going to be so pissed. Times like these it would be nice if my parents could know I had a fucking phone so that I could text them about where I was and why it's fucking 9pm on a school night and I'm not fucking home yet. But nooooo, we can't take "charity" from fucking "strangers". Like my fucking best friend in the whole world is some kind of fucking stranger. I swear to God.

I didn't even have time to talk to Chloe and tell her how it went when I dropped off the car. I pulled the car into her garage and left the keys in it before sprinting to the bus stop. No shot I can show up late and in Chloe's car, my parents would have an absolute fit. The bus took forever to get there and even once it did, the ride home felt far too long, like the bus driver wanted to give the dread a chance to build up before I got there.

I stashed my phone deep in the bottom of my backpack on the ride over and pulled out the small pack of make-up wipes stuck inside my pencil bag, scrubbing my face raw before tugging my oversized hoodie on to cover the cute top Chloe had bought me a few weeks ago. By the time the bus finally stopped, I looked borderline presentable enough for my dad and my stomach was in absolute knots. It had been worth it though. I know it had been worth it.

I kept telling myself that as I ran the last few blocks home. Weston would've ratted out the boys the second he got back to school in exchange for a sympathy pass on his suspension. He wouldn't now though. Not now that I'd gotten in his head. He was confused. And definitely still pissed. But, against his better judgement he liked me now. And I could use that, at the very least to pit him against his friend and cause enough confusion that the finger didn't quite get pointed at Trevor and Christian for the bruises and casts.

So, it was worth it. It had to be.

I knocked three times at the door before pulling my key out of my bag, not because I was expecting anyone to open it, but because I knew I'd be in worse trouble if I didn't. Every part of me was praying my dad didn't hear the knocks though, that he was asleep right now and I could lie my way out of this just a bit.

My luck didn't hold out though, no one's ever does within these walls. When I slid the door open, my dad was lying on the couch, eyes wide open, staring directly at the door.

"You're home." Fuck.

He was too calm right now.

"Wasn't sure you still lived here anymore."

I tried my best to play dumb. "I'm so sorry. I got held up working on a project for AP Bio after Student Council ended and the pay phone in the lobby wasn't working so I just wasn't sure how to call and tell you. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again"

He smiled and my heart dropped deep into my stomach. "I'm sure it won't, hon. Dinner's on the stove. It should still be hot, your mom and brother just finished eating."

Fuck. Guilt gnawed at my stomach. Luke hadn't had dinner til Mom got home. 

I tried to keep my breath steady as I reminded myself why I had to go to Weston's house. Luke is fine.

"Thank you." I smiled at my dad. "I'll just drop my bag in my room and change first."

He nodded and went back to his TV show as I crept to my room, careful not to make any noise. There was no sign of my mom or brother anywhere in the small house. It was pretty clear they'd retreated to their rooms after finishing dinner. That did not bode well for me.

I kept a smile plastered on my face while I waited for the other shoe to drop, not my school one, but a smaller, more docile and pleasant smile. The kind that made me look younger and more innocent. It didn't do much to settle my stomach though as I did my best to pick out my thickest sweatshirt and sweatpants, not that they'd help much, but it was the best I could do at this point.