Between the Lines

-17-

Kendal

I stand there in the shadows by my house for several minutes, just watching the bizarre showdown between Braden and Kyle.

If anything made sense right now, I should probably be upset or angry or… something, but when Braden waves at me I have difficulty not snickering before I wave back.

There is a certain amount of humor in this. Or else I’m losing my mind.

All of it is better than what’s going to happen when my dad finds out, though, so mostly I’m out here avoiding the inevitable, crossing my fingers that he doesn’t come storming outside and see the mess that is Kyle right now.

Which means I’d better get inside before he comes searching for me or calling the police.

I sneak around to the back door of the garage; it’s still possible that my dad hasn’t made it upstairs yet and doesn’t know I’m missing. That’s the only thing that explains why he hasn’t called me yet. When I open the door, though, the space where his car should be is empty.

Frowning, I flick on the display on my phone. 12:27. Where in the world is my dad at half-past midnight?

I don’t bother with being secretive going back inside the house now, there’s no need. Everything is dark except for the under-the-counter lights in the kitchen and the small lights that illuminate the stairs leading up to my bedroom. There’s no light under the door of my dad and Jillian’s room, and it’s quiet.

Suddenly, I’m worried about my dad instead of the other way around. I pull my phone out as I head upstairs, quickly dialing his number.

It rings and rings, and then his voicemail picks up.

My mouth is too dry to leave a message, and my heart is pounding as I try not to imagine his car wrapped around a telephone pole or – the image I still fight in my nightmares – sliced in half by a train, one shoe a hundred yards away. Cale all over again.

My hand is already shaking, so it’s no surprise that the phone flies out of it and lands upside down on the floor when it suddenly vibrates and chimes.

It is a surprise that I manage to pick it up and swipe the code into the lock screen in only two tries.

Dad: Hey kiddo. I’m driving. Are you okay?

And like that, the images melt away and I realize how ridiculous I was being. My father won’t touch his phone while he’s driving – he suffers from the same bad memories I do, after all – but he will send texts with the voice recognition in his car if he really needs to.

A call from me at midnight apparently makes the “needs to” list.

Two deep breaths later, I’m able to text him back.

 

Me: Just worried because you’re not home yet.

Dad: Be home in a few. Go to bed. It’s late. Love you.

 

It would be good advice if I was even a little bit tired right now. But I’m not. I’m wide awake, still reeling from everything that’s happened in the past couple of hours – everything that’s happened today really. Even if it is already tomorrow.

I really wonder why my dad isn’t home yet after midnight, but considering that I just crept back into the house myself, I’m not really in a position to press the issue.

My phone buzzes again, and I pick it up, expecting another message from my dad since I didn’t respond, but it’s not him.

Kyle: Have you cooled off enough now? Are you going to meet me at the hospital?

 

I stare at the phone blankly for several minutes, trying to make the words on the screen make sense. Does he seriously think I’m going to cool off after tonight? After I took a swig of the soda in his cup holder in his car and discovered there was much more than soda in it while he was driving? No. I haven’t cooled off. And I’m not going to leave the house again in the middle of the night and give my dad the same kind of panic attack he just gave me. I should never have done it in the first place.

Kyle’s lucky I didn’t break one of his bones myself.

I do feel a little guilty that Braden has to deal with him. But not guilty enough to go to the hospital.

I do pick up the phone to send a text, but it’s not to Kyle.

Me: Are you up?

After hitting send, I toss the phone onto my bed and head into my closet to find pajamas. I’ve barely managed to open the drawer in there when Bruno Mars starts singing “Count on Me” loudly from my bed, and I run to pick it up.

“I guess that’s a yes?” I say into the phone.

“It’s not even one in the morning yet,” Rory says. “Why wouldn’t I be up?”

“You don’t have classes in the morning?”

She scoffs. “Definitely not. I told you I have a rule about classes before noon.”

Based on the class schedules I’ve looked at for next year, I’m not sure how she manages that, but I laugh. Maybe it’s easier by the time you’re a junior. “And I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Nothing that’s more important than you, sweet. What’s wrong?”

“Does something have to be wrong for me to call you?”

I can practically hear her eyes rolling through the phone. “It’s that boyfriend of yours isn’t it? The one you won’t let me meet. What’s his name again?”

The barb about not letting her meet Kyle is something I have practice ignoring. Even after four years, I’ve never introduced anyone from Evans Heights to anyone from back home. It’s just… easier. “Kyle.” And the next thing I know, I’ve spilled the entire day’s drama to her, all the way up to Braden driving to my house without directions and breaking Kyle’s finger.

“Boys,” she sighs. “They’re all lying liars who lie and do stupid, stupid things.”

“I second that.”

She laughs. “I’ve never understood why you’re with that idiot, anyway.”

“Yes you do.”

She’s quiet for almost a minute before she answers. “Yeah, Ken, I do. But it’s almost graduation, and he’s not worth it.” It’s at this point that I realize I knew this is why I called her – and she wastes no time letting me know she knows it, too. “I’m still the closest thing you have to an older sister, and I’m going to pull rank here. I’m coming to your graduation party, and this asshole better not be there.”