by Jo Cassidy
I swallowed, my mouth completely dry. “Are they going to do an investigation or something?”
Jenna waved her hand. “I highly doubt a prank is high up on the cops’ list of things to do. But I’m dying to know who did it and why.”
Brendon squeezed my arm. “As exciting as this all is, we need to get going." He winked at me. "We have some studying to do."
Jenna squealed again and put her hand on my arm. "I want all the details tomorrow! Promise!"
Promise. I had once only used that word with Daddy. Now the list was expanding. "Promise."
Brendon steered me away from a still giddy Jenna and led me to the doors leading outside.
"Sorry about that," Brendon said, dropping his arm. "If she thinks we're together, you can use that as an excuse to get out of things. Just let me know when we're hanging out." He used air quotes. "So we can get our stories straight." He turned my shoulders so I was facing the exit. "Now, hurry and place the bag by the flagpole and get to your dad. You're already late."
Daddy would be suspicious. I'd have to make up an excuse as to why it took me so long to come out after school had ended. It was starting to happen way too often, and I didn’t like it.
I didn't get to thank Brendon. He'd gone out of the school without looking at me, like we hadn't been talking just seconds before.
As I walked to the flagpole, all I could think about were Jenna and Dalton. They had seemed highly suspicious with the note exchange. They skyrocketed to the top of the list, pushing Brendon and the others lower.
I hated that I couldn't trust anyone. I needed to go home and talk with Noah. Or better yet, get in trouble so Daddy would put me in timeout and I could speak with Sally. She'd know what to do.
Chapter 22
When I arrived at Daddy's van, it was empty. I scanned the area, searching for any sight of him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Where was he?
My stomach lurched. Had he seen me with Brendon? Or Jenna? He couldn't know they were my friends. If anything happened to them because of me, I'd never forgive myself – even if Jenna was the person who stole my journal. She didn't deserve to fall into Daddy’s hands.
"Where were you?" Daddy's deep voice rumbled behind me.
I spun around, slamming my back into the side of the van, flinching slightly from the pain. "Ttt . . . talking to a teacher."
Daddy stepped up close. "Why are you so nervous, angel?" His hand wrapped around my arm and squeezed tight. "Were you doing something you weren't supposed to?"
"No," I whispered.
He twisted his hand, gripping where my bruises were from before. "Were you with someone you shouldn't be around?" His hand kept rubbing back and forth.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes from the pain. "No, Daddy."
What was happening with him? He'd never lost that much control out in public. He was usually careful about how people perceived us.
His eyes searched mine. "Promise?"
I hated lying to Daddy. But I didn't want Jenna or Brendon to get hurt. "Yes, Daddy. I was just talking to a teacher about a project. I'm sorry I was late, but I felt it important to discuss things with her."
His grip slowly loosened from my arm. "Don't let it happen again. You can talk to your teachers during break or lunch."
"Yes, Daddy," I whispered.
He walked around to his side of the van and got in, not opening the door for me like he normally did. I desperately wanted to rub my arm where he'd hurt me, but I resisted and slid into the passenger seat, shutting the door firmly.
"What project?" he asked as he drove.
After years of living with Daddy, sticking with truthful things worked the best. So I picked a science project I was working on. I just hadn't talked to my teacher about it. But it seemed to satisfy Daddy.
His mood flipped again the second we pulled into the driveway. He hurried to open the passenger door for me. "I have a surprise for you."
Had he changed his mind about the piano? "What is it?"
He waggled his finger at me. "It's a surprise." He unlocked the front door, took my backpack from me, and swept his arm out for me to go in first.
A quick look around the front room told me it wasn't a piano. The tiny spark of hope that had been in my heart fluttered away.
He wrapped his arms around me and covered my eyes with his cold hands. "Walk forward."
A little bit of panic set in. Where was he taking me? But I did as directed, following his every command until we'd stepped out into the backyard. The early summer warmth wrapped around me.
"You ready?" he asked.
I nodded in response.
He lowered his hands. "Surprise!"
He'd finished the swing set he'd been working on – the one I begged for when I was little. Though, I hadn't asked for it in the longest time because I didn’t want it anymore. But so much excitement danced in Daddy's stormy eyes. I hadn't seen him that happy in the longest time. His sudden mood swings unsettled me. Why did he randomly feel the need to finally give me my swing set at the age of fifteen? Especially when he had been so mad at me.
He made it with a dark wood, the stain rich and warm. Two wooden seats hung from thick ropes, giving me two swings. The thought of the second swing broke my heart. I'd never have a friend to sit there. No one to swing with me aside from Daddy.
"Thanks, Daddy!" I clasped my hands together in pretend excitement. "It's all mine?"
He cradled my cheek. "Come on. Let me push my little girl on her swing."
His little girl. He wanted the young version of me back. The girl who didn't go to public school or have friends. The girl who hadn't reached puberty or caused problems.
Forcing a smile, I sat on the swing and let Daddy push me. I swung my legs with the movement and tried to focus on the breeze against my cheeks.
"See how nice this is?”
"Yes," I said.
He made sure to avoid pushing my back and used the ropes instead. "Just me and my angel girl. Why would I need anything else?"
So much had changed in a matter of a few weeks. Before, I would have agreed with him. Just me and Daddy. No one to interfere with our lives. But I never knew having a friend could be so nice. I had no idea what I was missing out on.
"Just me and you," I whispered. Always.
Dread settled inside.
But it kept my friends safe. It wasn't about me – it never had been. If anyone were to find out mine and Daddy's secret, I would be taken away from my friends anyway. I'd never see Daddy again. I'd be all alone in the world with no one to protect me.
"Angel," he said, giving me a push. "How’s everything at school?"
I kept my eyes on my spotless white tennis shoes as they swung in the air. "Great. I'm learning a lot."
"That's good." He paused. Every second that ticked by let the storm grow. I didn't have to see his eyes to know the clouds were rolling in. "I talked with your school the other day."
Fear squeezed me tight. Had Mr. Mendoza called?
"What for?" I asked.
"You're so ahead of the other kids. You don't belong in tenth grade. So I've been debating what to do."
I didn't belong in any of the grades. I never would. "What are you thinking?"
He let go of the ropes and sat on the swing next to me. "We could move you ahead. By your grades and knowledge, your counselor thinks we could start you in twelfth grade next year." So Mr. Mendoza had called.
My wide eyes went to him. "Do you think that's a good idea? People would notice me. Pay attention."
He nodded. "Exactly." He started to swing. "I don't think you need to be in public school anymore. I had thought you could learn more there, but you're so smart you can teach yourself. If I get all the right books, you could do it alone and be done with high school next year." His smirk left a sour taste in my mouth. "Then we can focus on our future."
Our future. It made me sick to my stomach. What did that entail? Would he ever let me have a job, drive a car, or go to co
llege? Or would I be stuck at home, locked in my room, until the day he died? Then what would happen to me?
"Are you pulling me out of school?" My voice was so quiet.
He put his feet down to stop swinging and wrapped his hand around my swing rope. "At the end of this school year. It will be less noticeable that way."
"But I like school," I said, daring to look in his eyes. The storms were hovering in the distance, waiting to move in. If I didn’t play it smart, the forecast could be deadly.
"I know, angel.” The normal dark, gravelly tone had been replaced by something sweeter. Almost like honey. Goosebumps broke out on my arms despite the nice day. I almost preferred his rough voice – it was less creepy.
“But this will be better,” he said. “It's less risky. Plus, this way you won't be exposed to all the bad stuff high school has to offer. You'll be safe at home."
I couldn't fight with him or demand to stay in school. So I put on my sweet smile. I’d have to figure a way out on my own. "Okay, Daddy."
He returned my smile, used my swing rope to pull me close to him, and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m worried that I’ve been losing my little girl. I think being out in the world has taught you some bad habits. But I can fix them and make you perfect once again.” He sighed. “I couldn’t live without you, Cora. You’re my world.”
I leaned my head against the swing rope, trying to appear innocent and happy.
"I'm going to make dinner tonight. Why don't you enjoy some time out here and come in the house in a bit?"
"Thanks, Daddy." I swallowed down the thick lump in my throat. "For the swing and always looking out for me."
"I love you, Cora. I'll always protect you and do what's best for you." The next words were muttered under his breath, so quiet I almost didn’t hear them. “Unlike him.” With a cold smile, he left me alone in the backyard, something he'd never done before.
I wanted to ask him what had changed. Why his mood kept swinging all over the place.
If he took me out of school, I'd never see Jenna or Brendon again. No more guitar lessons from Dalton. But if any of them had taken my journal, they weren’t the friends I thought they were.
There would also be no more blackmailer trying to ruin my life.
Maybe it would be for the best, but I had no way to know.
Chapter 23
After dinner, Daddy headed down to the basement to finish repairing the pipe. The hallway was still bare, so I’d kept my shoes on so my feet wouldn’t get dirty. I took them off the second I got into my room. Daddy only wanted socked feet on the carpet.
"How was your day, Cora Nora?" Noah asked from the bed.
Something inside of me ignited, and I rounded on him. “Why did you call me that?”
“I always rhyme your name with things. It’s what I do.”
A disturbing feeling settled inside me, but I wasn’t sure why. “Well, don’t do it anymore.”
“Fine.” He cleared his throat. “How was your day, Cora.”
I sat cross-legged on the floor, keeping him in my vision. "Not good." Reaching over, I wrapped my hand around the top handle of my backpack and dragged it to me. Normally I’d pick it up, but lifting anything heavy caused my back to flare in pain.
"Why not?"
Leaning forward, I peered out the open door, checking to make sure Daddy wasn't nearby. I didn’t need him eavesdropping on my private conversation. But if I closed the door, he’d be suspicious.
"Oh, more secrets." Noah chuckled. "You know how I love a juicy secret."
I rolled my eyes as I settled back into place. "Everything with you is a secret. You can't repeat anything you hear."
"Ouch. Right to the heart."
"Do you want to know or not?" I asked, shooting him a glare.
He sighed. "Alright, tell me."
"I'm thinking Jenna might be involved with the whole . . . situation."
"That’s the girl that was in your room, right?" he asked. "With the weird metal stuff on her teeth?"
I nodded at the elephant on my bed. "Yes. And they’re called braces."
Noah growled. "I knew there was something bad about her. You should tell your father what happened."
"No!" My gaze snapped to the door. I remained quiet until I was sure Daddy hadn't heard me. I kept my voice low. "He can't know what happened."
"Don't worry. My lips are sealed."
"Ha. Ha." I opened my math book. "I just don't want to believe it's her. She's been the closest thing to a friend I've ever had."
"Wow. You're really going for the heart tonight."
"I mean a human friend," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
"And now you just drove a stake through it. Not sure what I did to deserve that."
Nothing. But no matter what I said, he'd still be hurt. Every word out of my mouth was burying me deeper and deeper, and I couldn’t afford to lose him as a friend.
The phone in the kitchen rang, breaking the uncomfortable silence. On the second ring, I stood and went to the top of the basement stairs, leaning my hand against the door frame. "Daddy! The phone’s ringing!"
"Go ahead and answer it," he shouted up.
"Are you sure?" I asked. He rarely let me answer the phone. Especially without being able to check the caller ID.
"Of course."
I hurried to the kitchen and checked to see who was calling, but it only read Unknown Caller. My insides tightened. Were they calling again?
"Hello?" I kept my voice as steady as I could.
"I got the test answers," the rumbly voice said through the receiver.
"Good," I said, keeping my voice low. "Don't call here again." I moved to hang up the phone, but they spoke loudly, catching my attention.
"Because Daddy wouldn't like it?"
My heart hammered through my chest at the usage of Daddy, but then I remembered they had used it before. It kept throwing me off. "No, he wouldn't. Stop calling."
"That's not how this relationship works, Cora," the raspy voice said.
I peered down the hall to make sure Daddy hadn't come up the stairs. "This isn't a relationship at all. You're just a felon who gets off on torturing people." Once it came out of my mouth, I cringed. I'd heard someone use the phrase gets off at school, and by the recipient's reaction, it had been a mean thing to say. But I had no idea what it meant. Gets off on what? Or where?
"I was just calling to thank you," the voice said, anger dripping from every word, "but now I think I'll add another demand."
"No," I said through clenched teeth. "Stop doing this to me. I'm not your slave."
"You don't have to do anything I ask. I'll just tell precious Daddy everything."
My hand gripped the phone tight. "Go ahead. It’ll be your funeral."
"You really want to take that risk?"
I took a few breaths to calm my nerves, pinching the bridge of my nose. "What do you want?"
"Money," they rasped.
There were so many things they could ask for, but I hadn't thought about money. I had none. They had to know that about me. Where would I get money?
"That's not possible." I leaned against the counter and pulled at the collar of my shirt, wishing I could undo the top button and fan myself. "Think of something else."
They breathed deeply into the phone. "Anything is possible if you try. Five hundred dollars. In an envelope. Tape it to the inside of your locker door. You have one week."
They hung up before I could protest. How could I possibly get that much money in a week? How would I get that much money at all?
I replaced the receiver, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and filled it with apple juice from the fridge.
"Who was on the phone?" Daddy ambled into the kitchen and washed his hands.
I took a long drink of juice. "Wrong number." I'd have to sell a lot of cell phone bands. But I didn't have enough material to make fifty of them. Or time.
"Really?" he asked.
I placed my empty glass in th
e sink. Maybe I could steal it.
"Then why did the call last three minutes?" Daddy asked, looking at the phone.
I froze, unsure of what to say or do. I’d just thrown myself into a pit I couldn’t escape. My pulse throbbed in my ears as I worked moisture back into my mouth. "What?"
He placed his hand under my chin and yanked my face toward his. "The call lasted three minutes, Cora."
Panic rippled through me. I wanted to back away, but his grip was too strong. "I must have forgot to hang it up all the way." I clutched the side of the counter as paid radiated in my jaw.
His fingernails dug into my chin, breaking the skin. Blood trickled out. "And they did the same?"
"Daddy." I couldn't think of what to say. Anything out of my mouth would be a lie. My chest heaved in and out. Trying to breathe was like trying to wrap my hand around something just out of reach.
"Who was it, Cora?" he yelled, the words slamming into me. If he hadn’t been holding on so firmly, I probably would have stumbled back. When I didn't respond, he seized my arm and dragged me down the hall. "Why do you lie to me? After everything I do for you."
"Daddy, please!" I pushed my feet into the now bare floor, hoping to slow our progress, but without the carpet, I had nothing to really dig my toes into. My legs burned in protest.
He pushed me onto the stairs, and his hand tightened around the door. I shoved forward, trying to stop the door, and Daddy, from shutting me out.
"Don't make this worse," he growled.
I threw my body against the door so he couldn’t close it. “Please don’t lock me down here! I’m sorry!”
A hurricane landed in his eyes, the blue and gray splashing all around, so fierce and uncontrollable. I’d never seen that kind of rage on him. Seconds after he flipped on the light, his coarse hands found my arms and hauled me with him. He was able to run down the stairs, but my body bounced along the banister and steps as he forced me to the bottom.
When we arrived on the cold, concrete floor, he threw me down, my palms slamming down and burning my wrists.
“If you want to be raised how I was, then so be it!” His strong hand fisted the collar of my shirt, and he yanked, the buttons flying off along with the rest of my shirt.