Chasing the Browns

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Explaining had been a very long – and very slow – process. Marie had seemed to find the need to comment on almost every single word I said, asking about every single detail.

‘Why do you need to know how many freckles he has on his cheeks? I don’t even think he has any. Is this really necessary information?’

Marie had sighed. ‘This is what you get when you don’t tell your best friend about your first kiss. YOUR FIRST KISS.’ Yes. Admittedly – and embarrassing as it was – it was my first. ‘Now, on a scale of one to ten, how much pressure were his hands putting on you when he held you?’

‘Marie, I honestly do not—’

‘What number?’

Or you could have called it interrogation. I’d finally managed to do my English homework, and after that I’d ate dinner with Mum who seemed to notice I was smiling more than usual. I blew it off and watched a little bit of TV before doing more homework and going to bed. Even then, I couldn’t get to sleep. Despite the glorious miracle that had been this afternoon, my mind was still reeling from the night before. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get to sleep. So, instead, I got out my laptop and watched a few films. At around four am, I stopped and lay in bed, thinking over and over about what the man had said. Yes, I had tried to get my dad to back down, but not hard enough.

Plus, today was the second day.

I gulped. I was still very confused about Nick. I wasn’t sure whether I totally bought his I’m-not-your-stalker-I’m-just-out-to-get-him-back story. He had the same mask on (well, it looked the same). His stature looked more or less the same. Then again, he was around the average height of a fully grown male, and I was sure that a lot of people were that tall. Except, what confused me even more was when he’d walked away when I’d kissed Jack. He’d looked…upset.

Was his way of showing me that he liked me shown through an angry façade and constant furiousness? Or did he really just hate me?

I went with the latter. I glanced over at the clock. 6:30. I couldn’t stay in bed any longer. I got dressed in my school uniform and quietly brushed my teeth. It’d been raining again. I was surprised to see my dad at the table, drinking tea and reading a paper. I made myself a hot chocolate and joined him.

I decided to try a more direct approach.

‘Dad,’ I said firmly. ‘You have to back down from the case.’

He looked up from his paper slowly, scrutinising me as he had yesterday. ‘Have you had another dream? Is that why you’re up so early? I—’

‘Dad. You need to,’ I said. You could almost hear the pleading in my voice. I could almost feel the cold blade at my throat.

He put the paper down. I gulped. I had no idea how to go about this. I should have never said anything.

No, I should have. Otherwise, someone would get hurt. Very badly hurt. He knew where I lived.

‘Why?’ His tone had a slight edge to it.

‘B-because,’ I stammered. ‘Because…I don’t know. I…I just have this really bad feeling…’ I trailed, scrambling for a good excuse.

His brow creased. ‘Lea, something’s going on. What is it? Is someone asking you to do this?’

Oh no.

‘No!’ I blurted. I coughed, embarrassed. ‘No,’ I said in a more subdued tone. ‘I just…’

Dad stood up. ‘Lea, if this is something very serious, I need to know. Now.’