Dauntless High School

Chapter 6

FOUR

I wake to the faint smell of coffee and, after a quick stop at the bathroom, head straight to the kitchen. My mom is sitting at our table near the kitchen with both hands wrapped around her coffee mug. "Morning," I mumble as I pass.

"Good morning, dear," she responds, glancing up from the newspaper for just a moment. It's 6:30, I have an hour before I need to leave for school. I pour myself a cup of coffee and sit across from her. The table is very small, just big enough for the two of us, but the apartment is small as well so it fits better that way.

"What are you doing up?" I ask her. She works nights as a pharmacy tech at the hospital. She had already left for work when I got home from practice last night, and she is usually asleep when I get up in the morning.

"I wanted to hear about your first day at the new school," Mom replies.

I shrug. "It was alright. Practice was good." I decide not to tell her about Zeke's prank.

"Make any friends?"

"Uh, yeah, actually. A few." She nods. I look at her expectantly. She usually doesn't engage in so much small talk. But she's trying... trying to make up for her mistakes. It's something, at least.

Mom clears her throat. "I have some news," she says carefully. She doesn't make eye contact. I raise my hand with my palm up, gesturing to her to go on and spit it out already. "Your father and I came to an agreement on visitation."

I tense, and already I can feel the panic bubbling through me. "Is this how you got him to sign for the school registration?" I ask in a low voice.

She nods. "I did everything I could, Tobias."

"What did you agree to?" My voice is shaking, breathless.

She sighs. "One weekend a month. And dinner every Wednesday."

I focus on breathing. In, out. In, out. This isn't that bad, I tell myself. One dinner a week, and twelve weekends a year. That's it. That's all I have to see that bastard.

Twelve weekends each year still feels insurmountable, when I was hoping never to lay eyes on the sadistic asshole again.

And those weekly dinners... will we meet at a restaurant, or do I have to go to his house? Does it even matter? He will still find some way to get me alone. I'll never escape him.

"Fine," I spit. I feel like screaming, but I suppress it. Without looking at my mother again, I leave my half-empty cup of coffee on the table and stalk off to the bathroom to clear my head with a cold shower.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

I park next to an old vintage Ford pick-up. The exterior is near perfect, someone has put a lot of care into this truck. I wonder if they've put as much work in under the hood. I like working on old cars, like this pick-up or my car, a 1967 Mustang. Newer cars, not as much.

I bought my Mustang with money I saved working odd jobs around the neighborhood, and I fixed it up myself. When I first brought the car home, it sputtered and frequently backfired, but now it purrs like a kitten. Teaching me how to fix just about anything under the hood of a car is the one thing I can genuinely thank my father for. But it doesn't make up for everything else.

I somehow make it to my first class without getting too lost. First period was already over when Ms. Reyes finished processing my registration paperwork yesterday, so this is my first day in Chemistry class. I am relieved to see a girl I recognize as one of Zeke's friends― I think her name was Marlene― sitting at a desk in the back row, near the window, but there's a backpack already in the otherwise empty seat next to her. The seat in front of her, thankfully, is empty.