Still Here

11

I awaken to shouting. I check the clock and see that it is 3:16 a.m. I eavesdrop and find that I recognize the voice.

Dad stirs. "I know him," I say softly. "The boy who's yelling."

Dad is still half asleep, but he forces himself to wake up and answer me. "You do?"

"It's Michael. He goes to my school." And he's kind of my only friend, I think.

Dad gives me an unsure look. "Do you . . . want to see him?"

I nod. "Sure. I mean, he came to see me, right?"

Dad furrows his brow. "He's been here since you have. Just sitting outside your room. We weren't going to let him see you . . . "

"We?" I ask in confusion.

"Your mother and I," Dad says. He's timid.

I frown. "Why not? Did you say something to him?"

He frowns back. "No, no. Well, yes."

"What the hell, Dad?"

"Look, this is going to sound awful to you, I'm sure, but . . . Oh, Audrey."

"What? Just tell me."

He takes a deep breath. "That boy - Michael? He's the one who hit you."