Owen, Ed and Me

6: Convenience

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I get home panting like crazy. I think my body is in shock or something. Like a gazelle chased by a lion. My mother is out with some friends so I don't have to explain how I got hurt just yet. I still head straight for the bathroom.

"Aw come on." I whimper when I look at the right side of my body in the mirror. I have bruises in the shape of finger prints. I don't even know if that's supposed to be biologically possible. Google is you friend and helper. I think bitterly as I slowly pull my top off. I assess the damage to my wrists, which is much smaller and should be gone by tomorrow morning. I don't even know how I'm supposed to treat my side! But one thing's for sure, I can forget about track try-outs on Tuesday. I rummage through my mom's cabinets and then my dad's until I have a pile of medication in front of me in the sink. I sigh.

"Now which one of you suckers is going to hide this?" I mutter. I google them all. In the end I smear on two different creams and take an Ibuprofen. I'll probably die of poisoning first.

I waddle out of the bathroom and onto my bed, which takes me forever with the state of my being. I consider calling my friends, but then I decide that I don't want them to worry and I don't want Sophie to feel worse than I know she already does. I fall asleep after a few minutes of the Discovery Channel, falling into a somewhat peaceful slumber.

Monday comes around way too soon. I wake up three hours too early and am ready for school over half an hour too early.

My Sunday passed uneventfully with me sleeping away half the day, my mother throwing a fit about the state of my behind when I finally did get out of my den, then taking me to a pharmacy before making me dinner and leaving to switch duties with my dad again. He, being the huge naïve teddy-bear-guy that has picked me up from every fall since I can remember, had a mental breakdown when he saw me. I honestly cannot fathom how he thinks he can console me when with his next breath he's stating how frightening Owen's gotten (he's seen the videos).

Either way, Monday morning has me nervous for a whole bundle of crapstick reasons. Number one: I have to see Owen Knight. That is also reasons two through five. Number Six: My friends will find out Owen hurt me physically today. I avoided all phone calls and most text messages on Sunday. Number seven: My parents are both escorting me to the counselling session with Owen Knight. Why does that worry me, you ask? Well, they haven't been in the same room in over a month. And I can count on one hand the number of times they have talked to each other in that period of time. Ergo, this car ride might get me killed before Owen Knight does.

I shovel down my breakfast as my dad walks in.

"You seem awfully relaxed." I comment. I'm way on edge. He glances at me over his cup of coffee.

"Why wouldn't I be, kiddo? Is there something you forgot to tell me about? Does Owen have a gun?"

I cough out a laugh. "Hey dad, good thing you're not crazy paranoid or anything." I take another spoonful of Cheerios. "No, Owen does not own a gun." Well, not one I've had the pleasure of seeing, anyway.

My dad visibly relaxes. "Good."

"Mom, on the other hand..." I point out and promptly burst into chuckles as he pales.

"Toni! That is not funny!" He dabs at the coffee sip he spilled on his shirt. The doorbell rings.

"Oh look, there she is." I chime, getting up to open the door. My mother is dressed better than usual in a tailored blouse and shiny black jeans. The heels give her that kickass-cop look. I raise a brow.

"Are we trying to impress someone? Say, my father perhaps?" I grin evilly. My parents know I don't like their arrangement, which is why they don't really say anything when I irritate them.

"Toni, good morning," My mother kisses my cheek and steps into the apartment. She scrunches up her face. "Well, that's definitely your father's coffee I smell."

I roll my eyes and pull on my spunky jeans jacket. I got it from my grandmother last year and am absolutely in love with it. It's become my trademark.

"We're late." I mention.

"I'm ready, let's go," My dad appears. He nods at my mother awkwardly. "Cassidy."

My mom hates her full name. We are so not off to a good start. "Timothy." She replies coolly, levelling my dad with a glare.

"Right, let's go." I say quickly, getting started on the process of limping down the stairs.

Ten minutes later we're packed into our small family SUV, me seated at the front because it would've been "not comfortable" for my parents to be sitting next to each other. So instead, my mother sits in the back, leaned between our seats to talk to me.

"Toni, did you eat breakfast?"

"Yeah."

"Why wouldn't she have eaten?" My dad interjects, anger already thick in his voice.

"Well, I forgot to go grocery shopping on Saturday. And since you never do any shopping..." My mom trails off. I can feel my dad getting wound up.

"Cassy, could you quit being so petty?" He squeaks. My dad is physically incapable of exerting anger. I once nearly did a science research project on the phenomenon. "Our daughter is being hunted down for chrissake!"

My mom leans back in her seat in a huff. We drive in silence for a bit before I speak up.

"So," I drag the word out. "You guys are just dropping me off, right? No need for embarrassing hovering or any such thing?"

"What are you kidding?" My mom says as my dad scoffs, "You can't be serious."

I roll my eyes. "You guys can never fight when it's convenient for me." I grumble.

"Your father wasn't feeling up to it." My mother comments snidely and I choke on, well, air. I can't believe how childish she's being right now. Neither can my dad.

"Would you like to walk, Cassidy? I'm sure we'd save a lot of gas, anyway."

My mom's jaw drops. "Oh you did not just go there!" My dad turns into the school parking lot.

"I lost two KGs, thank you very much!"

I put my hands over my ears.

"Right. And I got rid of those red glasses you hate so much."

"Nerd."

"Whiner."

"Jerk."

"Li-!"

"Oh look we're here!" I interrupt and immediately swing open the door. I clamber out of the seat as my parents slam their doors shut and come around to me in a huff. I sigh. "You guys know you have to drive to work together, right?"