Growing up McGarrett

Panic Stations

I ran upstairs and changed. I put on a denim skirt that came to my knees and a good shirt. I brushed my long blonde hair and braided it neatly. Dad is a stickler for neatness, it comes from his navy training. He always says we make an impression with the way we present ourselves and I should dress appropriately for the occasion. So I knew that looking smart to see Mr. Thompson could only help me. I sigh as I look in the mirror. I wish I felt as confident as I looked. Then I hear dad calling me so I go back downstairs. He is waiting by the door with a plastic folder in his hand. I guess that's my assignments. I start to feel light headed so I sit on the couch and put my head in my hands. Dad comes over and crouches in front of me, taking my hands in his. "It's going to be ok", he says gently. I start to sob, breathing faster and shaking. I feel like my chest is getting tighter. Then he does something he used to do when I was little and would start to panic. Taking one of my hands he puts it on his chest over his heart. Then he gently takes the other and puts it in the same place on my chest. Then he says quietly "Sam, breathe with me" and he starts to take long, deep slow breaths. At first I can't think about anything but the panic but he makes me look at him and tells me to feel his chest and match it. I start to concentrate on the feeling of his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm and before I realise it my breath has slowed and I am matching him. The fog lifts from my head and the tightness starts to ease. He keeps us like that until I've stopped shaking and my breathing is back to normal. Then he pulls up a chair so that he is sitting in front of me rather than crouching. He's waiting for me to talk, I can tell by the way he sits staring at me. He's a skilled interrogator and can wait forever unmoving. I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands and pinch my nose with my fingers. This is a gesture I've learned from him over the years and makes Uncle Danny laugh when we both do it. Apparently dad can never deny me, whatever that means! "Dad please can we not do this" I practically whisper not looking at him. He leans towards me and gently tilts my face up to look at him. His hazel eyes are full of love and concern. "Baby from what you have told me this teacher is behaving like a bully to you" he says, "I deal with bullies a lot in my job and the only way to beat them is to stand up to them and take away their power". "I know this is difficult" he continues, "but I will be right there next to you every step of the way, you don't have to fight this on your own anymore". "You know how much I love you right?", he asks me. I nod. "And do you trust me to have your best interests at heart?" Again I nod. "Then please know baby that I am not going to let anything bad happen to you, ok?" This time I weakly answer "Yes daddy". He gives me a hug and then says "Ok let's do this" as if he's about to break down the door of a meth lab! He grabs my hand, not giving me another chance to back out and leads me to the truck. Somehow on the way he had picked up the folder which he tosses on the backseat and once I'm buckled into my seat, he goes back and locks the door. Giving me another encouraging smile he starts the truck and we are off. Shit! I think to myself.
I bite my nails when I'm nervous. Dad hates me doing it but it's a habit and I don't think about it. He reaches over and takes my hand away from my mouth and puts it back on my lap. I look over to see if he's angry but he looks normal. A few minutes later the silence is cut by him saying "Sam! Stop biting your nails!" I hadn't even realised I was doing it again. I sit on my hands trying not to do it but obviously they find their way back a few minutes later because I'm jolted out of my thoughts by the sting of a slap to the offending hand. "Jeez" I say, earning a raised eyebrow, "I'm sorry I can't help it!" He gives me a look that says you better try but luckily we pull into the school parking lot. Think we have bigger things to worry about now. Dad turns to me and very seriously says "No matter what you will be respectful at all times, you understand?" "Yes sir" I reply knowing that there will be hell to pay if I'm not. Better try my best not to reference Bitchface then!
Dad had rung ahead to make sure Mr. Thompson could see us. So we go almost directly into the office. My stomach elephants are back with their Olympic routines and I'm concentrating on not getting sick. Dad and Mr. Thompson greet each other like old friends again and he beckons us to sit. I sit on the edge of the chair and put my hands in my lap. After the pleasantries Mr. Thompson starts, "Steve I was surprised to hear you were coming back to see me so soon, how can I help you?" Oh God, oh God, here we go. I want to jump and run. Could I? Don't be stupid Sam, dad would catch you before you left the seat. Maybe if I threw up? Right there on the desk! No, that would be embarrassing and would only delay the inevitable. Shit, shit, SHIT!