Getting It Straight

Chapter 2

"So, any news?" asked Paige. Every thirty minutes, she called to check if I had finally heard whether I would be grounded.

Well, we got busted last night. When Paige and I had gotten back at around midnight, we found my dad sitting on the front porch—dimmed lights, phone in hand, and a grim smile on his face. He was pretty upset.

As much as I'd wanted to shake off my dad's troubled mindset and humor him that there should always be a first time for everything, the atmosphere last night hadn't permitted me to do so. Dad was all the way gloomy, like his every movement spelled the word melancholy.

Normally, my dad was like one sunny day in a human package. He usually greeted everyone good morning from the moment he stepped foot at work until he arrived at his office; good afternoon while eating lunch with his colleagues; or even good evening if he saw someone late at night, while buying some last-minute groceries.

He was everybody's man. Even the times they had chosen him as the best man for weddings were now more than the number of his fingers. He was just like that—all smiles, perky personality, and a very warm voice.

So when an unexpected gloominess surrounded him last night, I knew that something was definitely wrong and probably more off than my sneaking out. I had done stupid things before and had drawn his wrath to myself, but last night was kind of weird.

I exhaled, telling Paige, "None as of the moment."

"It can't be something big, right? I mean, your dad is not that much of a terror," Paige replied.

"I don't know. He's been quiet all this while," I said, hushing my voice, just in case Dad would come to the kitchen and hear our conversation on the phone. It might add fuel to the fire that was already made and burning.

"Yeah, he was kind of odd. He went to his room early and everything," Paige agreed.

"It was the same this morning. He barely said a word to me," I told her. Then, giving it a thought, I added, "Okay, wait. Come to think of it, he hadn't spoken to me at all."

I looked at the clock. It was a little after two in the afternoon. Dad was so preoccupied and anxious all day. Even his lunch was still on the table, untouched. I was the only one in this house who had enough appetite to finish her meal.

I knew that something was definitely wrong, and he couldn't tell me a thing about it. Aside from the fact that I had broken my curfew, there must be something else he was deeply thinking about.

"Not even one word?"

"Nu-uh."

"I hope he'll forget about your curfew."

"Definitely possible," I said, knowing my dad's personality. After all, I grew up with him ever since Mom and Dad had separated ten years ago.

I heard the door of my dad's room open, so I told Paige, "Gotta go. Dad got out of his room. I think he's ready to talk, if that makes any sense."

She laughed on the other line. "And he's the one who really needs to get ready. Well, good luck. I'm sorry for making you break your curfew last night."

"It's okay," I replied, being reminded of the masked guy at the party. My occasional thinking of him hadn't faded yet. Why was he wearing a mask at that party? And, for some odd reason, why did he sketch me?

Now, I could only wish that I had talked to him some more, since we still got busted after. The thing about breaking your curfew, I'd found out, was that if you were going to break it, then why not do it all the way?

Ha.

"Fiona?"

"Yes, Dad?" I rushed towards the dining table. Okay, verdict time. Goodbye, cellphone. See you again, world. Come and find your place, ill-fated senior life.