The Right to Remain Silent

Chapter 1: Zachary, Monday, August 24th, 2012

Okay so this is the fifth town my dad and I have moved to in the past three years. All the moving is pretty much my fault. It's always the same story; I go out with the local princess, then something terrible happens and my dad and I are driven out of town. When my dad and I moved in today we sat down in the living room after we unpacked everything and he started to talk to me. "Zach, I know it's not your fault that these terrible things happen," he sat forward and looked me in the eyes, "but this time try to stay away from the girls here please?" We both laughed a little knowing that that was impossible. "Okay, maybe not "stay away", but maybe just keep a low profile."

That was honestly my plan. This was my senior of high school. I actually wanted to finish it right. "You got it dad. No worries I wasn't planning on being popular anyway." People misunderstand me sometimes. They think I'm the bad guy but I'm really not.

"And do me another favor," my dad said as he stood, "can you attend church with me at least once a week?"

I know a dark shadow must've played across my face. Before my mom died we all three of us went to church every week. I actually used to enjoy it, until she died from a drunk driver, who was "coincidently" a decan at the church we attended. The last church function I attended was her funeral, and the only reason I attended that was because I had to. If I had my way, I would've drove out to her favorite spot and watched the sunset. "Dad," I said seriously, "you know I cant do that." My dad nodded solemly.

You see when my mom died something happened to me. Some feeling deep inside me unlocked and I pretty much did a one-eighty. I got tattos. I bought a motorcycle. I cut my hair to this short length. I just changed completely.

I still believed in God, but I just didn't have the faith I used to. "Just one service," my dad called from the kitchen.

"No dad!" I said.

"Zach you have to learn to move on-"

"I have moved on dad!" I yelled at him. "I just don't want to go okay!" I got up walked out the front door and slammed it behind me. I hopped on my bike and started it. It hummed to life I sped out of the drive way. I rode for about an hour until I reached a beach. I parked my bike in a stall in the small parking lot near the beach. I kicked off my boots and threw them into the back compartment of my bike.

I stepped onto the sand with my bare feet and breathed in the cool, mid- August air. Such relief. The calming sound of waves crashing against the sand comforted me. I walked over to the shore line and let the water soak the bottom of my jeans.

I stood there for a while just watching the ocean waves. It was a good surf day. Before my dad and I moved here to Oregon we lived in California. Both my parents grew up in San Diego and they raised me there to. After my mom died when I was fifteen my dad and I moved up north to stay with my mom's sister and then we kept moving around until we decided to move here. 

I closed my eyes and just let the ocean mist hit my face. After a few hours passed I headed back to my bike. I took my boots out slipped them on and hopped on my bike. I remembered the way I took to get here and pulled into the drive way next to my dad's 1967 Ford Mustang. I walked in the door and looked at the analog clock hanging on the wall. It read seven thirty and I sighed. I had been gone for almost four hours. I was going to get lectured tonight.

My dad didn't lecture me and I was glad he didn't. I went to my room and crashed on the bed. My first day of school was tomorrow. My father enrolled me in a private Christian school just for a change despite my protests. I'd suck it up tomorrow and get through the first day. It was the rest of the year that worried me more.