Heart

Four

Wave after wave of high school students rolled out of the front doors, either catching a bus or strolling to their cars. Sitting inconspicuously in his car, a man raked his gaze over the crowd, searching for one girl in particular. He knew she attended this high school--this is where he’d first seen her. He was here to find out what car she drove. That information was crucial--everything about her life was crucial. He needed to know every last detail. This process had never failed him in the past.

The corners of his mouth drew up in a tiny smile.

There she was; she had on white skinny jeans, a deep purple blouse, and ankle boots. She slung her checkered backpack over her shoulder and flashed a beautiful smile at each of her friends. Her long, shining black hair cascaded over her shoulders--the perfect length for his taste. He admired how the color of her teeth brightened against the darkness of her skin. Her lips were so . . . full.

Mmmm.

He cocked his head to the side as his gaze followed her journey from the doors to the parking lot. She walked with the grace of a lady, making her all the more appealing. Ah, and she had money: her car happened to be a silver Mercedes-Benz. How interesting.

Her friends threw their packs into the back and then climbed in after them. He felt his heart thump just a tad harder watching his girl gracefully bend down into the driver’s seat. The door slammed shut, the car revved on, and then pulled out into the parking lot traffic. Without hesitation, he turned the keys in their slot and allowed the engine to run for a moment before doing the same. It was time to find out where she lived.

“Want me to go in with you?”

I sighed, staring out the truck window at my house. I had gotten a detention--no surprise--and the school had tattled to the folks. Standard procedure. Alan had waited after school to drive me home, even though he hadn’t gotten a detention. He blew my thanks off--just said it gave him some quiet time to do his homework.

I sighed again. “I don’t know what you could do.”

“Well, your parents love me more than they do you, so if I ask them very nicely, I bet they wouldn’t ground you.”

I rolled my eyes even as I chuckled. “Yeah, don’t I know it.” I flashed him a quick smile over my shoulder before pushing the truck door open. I hopped down, turning back to shake my head in answer. “Thanks, but I’ve got to learn to face my fears,” I replied sarcastically, waving and slamming the door shut. Alan gave me a brief nod and then pulled away from the curb, driving off.

I turned back to the house, took a deep breath, and marched forward.

Both of them were waiting for me in the living room. Mom was sitting stiffly in an arm chair, her posture rim-rod straight. Her hands, resting in her lap, were tightly folded, and her lips were disapprovingly pursed. Dad, who had stood to his feet the moment he saw me, had his arms crossed over his chest, practically welded on top of each other.

Was that the house growing, or was I shrinking?

“Um, hey guys. What’s up?”

Dad shook his head. “Well I suppose you know what’s on our minds.”

I sighed inwardly. “Yeah.”

“So. What did you do?”

Although his tone was carefully neutral, I knew that his anger was close to boiling over because his voice had gotten all low and gravelly. So, I had to swallow my first retort of “Why do you always assume that it’s my fault?” and stick with, “I was late for class, that’s all.”