Troubled

6

chapter six
annabeth

"So, Annabeth, how's school been?"

The words went in through one ear and out the other as my entire family sat at the dinner table. The only other sound was the scraping of utensils and chewing.

"Uh, okay," I lied as I weakly poked at my food with my fork.

Helen was clearly not satisfied by this answer as she continued the interrogation. "All your friends are okay? Thalia, Luke...?"

I smiled lightly at Helen's discomfort of saying Luke's name as I nodded. "Oh, yeah, they're all doing just peachy."

Helen, confused if this was an insult or not, just dropped the conversation and focused all of her energy back on her plate, leaving me thankful.

The room was pretty much silent after that. Of course Helen rambled on to Bobby and Matthew about soccer practice or something, but I just tuned it out like I was used to doing.

"Now that first quarter ended we got your report card, Annabeth," my father said as he looked at me from across the table, his glare intensifying.

Oh, crap, I thought, my face turning light pink. Did I do good this quarter?

I wasn't dumb, that was true. I didn't try hard for big tests, staying up studying the night before, but I always managed to get relatively high grades, but I never really paid attention to them. And teachers also tended to fail me if I misbehaved in their classes, which was never a rare occurrence.

"Straight A's, I'm impressed," my father replied monotone. He was not impressed. He was never impressed. "But, uh, a lot of notes about your behavior."

I dropped eye contact by staring down at the floor while Bobby and Matthew, my half siblings, laughed maliciously.

"All your teachers report that you're doing fine academically, but you keep acting out," he said. "Is it true that you got detention?"

I nodded weakly. "Uh, yeah. I got detention a few times, but I got straight A's, does that not mean anything?"

Of course it doesn't.

My father sighed. "Annabeth, I know you're a smart kid. I know you know not to act up. Why do you keep doing this?"

"It's those friends of hers," Helen interrupted. I glared at her. "The music I've heard blaring out of her room when that Thalia comes over, and, Fredrick, looks what's she's done with her hair!"

I crossed my arms. "What do you mean?!"

Helen placed down her fork, a frown forming on her face. "You've dyed it an atrocious purple! And that boyfriend of yours—I know he's trouble."

"Don't talk about Luke like that!" I exclaimed as I stood up, my fists balling in anger.

My father rubbed his temple, clearly disappointed. "We will have this conversation later. Annabeth, sit down."

"No!" I exclaimed, my hands on my hips defiantly. "I'm sick of Helen trashing my friends and my boyfriend. They're good people! Helen doesn't need to degrade everything about me, that's just being an ass!"

"Annabeth, sit down and don't call your mother an ass!"

My father's eyes instantly widened as he knew what he had said. Helen closed her eyes and clenched the table as if she were having a stroke and Bobby and Matthew nearly stopped their giggling at stared at me, wide-eyed.

"That woman is not my mother."

He sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just...a habit from yelling at Bobby and Matthew, please sit back down, okay?"

I shook my head. "I don't know why I agreed to come home. It always turns into this. I...I can't stay here. I've gotta go."

Before anyone could yell after me, even though I doubt anyone would, I bolted out of the room and out of the house, not even bothering to grab my bag. It didn't have anything vitally important in it, anyways.

As I googled a bus schedule while sitting on the curb leading to my driveway, I heard a clink and turned. Keys laid on the ground next to me.

"Take the old car back, okay?" my father's voice suggested as he peered down at me. "We were going to give it to you eventually. And this means less rides with Luke, right?"

I rolled my eyes as I grasped the keys in my hand and stood up. "This doesn't mean I'm coming back inside."

He nodded as he handed me my bag, which he'd retrieved from my room for me. "I know. Just be safe on the road, okay? And if you get sleepy just pull over, and if it gets too dark just call me—"

"I've driven a car before."

"I know," he said with a light laugh. "God, you're so much like her. Free spirited."

Her.

He meant my mother. The woman who was apparently too 'free spirited' to be with us. To be with me...

"I'll see you Thanksgiving," I replied as I shoved past him and into the car that was at least as old as me.

"Our door will always be open."

Tell that to Helen.