Actually, I was, but certainly I wasn’t stupid enough to admit that to my father – not when his own stress levels were through the frickin’ roof.
“Well, while you were chillin’, Principal King was screaming at me over the phone. Something about incompetent parenting and… oh, yeah, he was throwing around the ‘T’ word.”
Dad knew better than to toss puzzles at me so early in the morning. I scratched my head, searching my brain. “Tits?”
A blast of energy escaped him. “Truancy!”
Oh, right. That made more sense than tits.
Dad didn’t let me finish my thought before he was asking a follow-up question. “And what follows the ‘T’ word, Keith?”
My brows furrowed in concentration. So much thinking so early in the morning. “U?”
He slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Stop playing dumb, Keith. The ‘S’ word. The ‘S’ word follows the ‘T’ word.”
What the hell was with all the letters? He knew damn well I couldn’t recite the alphabet without singing the song.
“Suspension!” he blurted out. More beastly growling followed. “And, after what happened last year, if your mother even gets wind of that word again, you’ll be on your way to military school. I hope you like scrubbing toilets.”
I ignored his baseless intimidations. I’d been threatened with military school more times than I could count. The truth was I’d probably already be off to boot camp boarding school if my parents had the money to send me. As it was, my interventions were typically of the bargain basement variety. For example, instead of the Scared Straight program, where a group of my equally doped up peers got screamed at by murderers in prison, I got poison oak from a weekend narcotics prevention camping trip. And instead of pricey drug counseling sessions with a trained professional, I got Justin, the twitchy ex-addict who praised sobriety while pulling strands of hair from his head.
Yes, my parents tried, but I prided myself on staying a step ahead of them at all times. I mean, who said potheads weren’t creative? Give us a bud and nothing to smoke out of and we’ll turn into frickin’ MacGyver.
“Last year wasn’t my fault.”
“No?” My father violently flung his body back into his car seat as if he were absorbing the jolt of running over a dead body in the road. He was laughing now, but it was the type of dark amusement that preceded a full-on mental breakdown. “I drove you to school every morning. I walked you onto campus practically holding your hand as I personally deposited you in the principal’s office, and yet still somehow during school hours, you inexplicably broke into the basement of the ice skating rink with enough pot to kill a medium-sized animal.”
He took a moment to gather his wits before continuing on in a calmer tone. “So tell me, Keith. Whose fault was it?”
Obviously mine. But conceding defeat so early in the negotiations was a rookie move. Think. Who could I make the culprit when we both knew all fingers pointed in my direction? “Um… I blame Schwarzenegger.”
“Schwarzenegger?” Dad’s eyes widened, my innovative answer momentarily taking his mind off premeditated murder. “As in, the governor of California?”
“Yeah. He needs to get tough on education. Do you have any idea how easy it is to sneak out of school?”
Dad sighed heavily, appearing weary of my antics. It took him long enough.
We sat in an extended silence before I asked, “Does Mom know?”
“No, I’ll break it to her tonight. Do you have any idea how lucky you are that the school called me today and not her?”
I had some idea. Last time they called my mom, suddenly I was enrolled in a teen drug prevention program with a bunch of tweakers who chased their shadows. I didn’t belong there. Just because I was a pothead didn’t mean I had a problem with drugs. So I liked to relax with a puff or two, no big deal – well, until I made it a big deal by turning my pastime into a flourishing business.
I traced my finger along the dashboard before meeting my dad’s eye. “Luck had nothing to do with it.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“The office. They won’t call her.”
Dad couldn’t contain his curiosity. “What makes you so sure?”
“Last time I was in the office, the school caught fire.”
In response to his shocked expression, I replied, “I know. It surprised me too. Anyway, while they were evacuating the building, I took the liberty of changing her phone number on the emergency form.”
My father’s mouth dropped open, his eyes darting back and forth between the road and me. “So you’re telling me that your first thought in the middle of an emergency was to tamper with official documents?”
I shrugged. “What can I say? I’m good under pressure.”
A reluctant smile formed on his lips. “Was there an actual fire?”
“A small one, in Home Ec. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“No,” he chuckled. “Of course not.”
I flashed him a brilliant smile, wondering if we were good now. Had I sidestepped punishment?
But his smile faded away as quickly as it appeared. Dammit, he was fighting back. I still had work to do.
“You know, Keith, if you put even half as much effort into school as you do into ditching it, you’d be headed to an Ivy League school.”
“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? I could be Mitch’s errand boy and keep all his trophies nice and shiny.”
The venom that hissed from my mouth surprised even me. Usually I was better at keeping my feelings on that matter to myself, because criticizing Mitch around my father was the equivalent of condemning the Pope. My older superstar half-brother walked on holy water.
Dad shook his head, a sour look on his face. “Knock it off.”
“What?” I asked, but already knowing I’d crossed the Mitch-line.
“Stop blaming your brother for your shortcomings. He’s worked damn hard for everything he has. You think he ditched three days of school just to chill?”
“No.”
“You’re damn right, no. You could learn a thing or two from his work ethic, Keith.”
“I have a work ethic,” I mumbled, even though the truth was, I only worked hard getting myself out of trouble. Everything else was approached with half-assed efficiency.
Dad scoffed, raising a brow.
“Okay, fine,” I conceded. “Mitch is a saint. Is that what you want to hear? Let’s all rejoice.”
Looking ready to burst, my father abruptly swerved the car off to the side of the road, then clicked off his seatbelt and turned to face me. “Is that what this is all about? Mitch?”
Stunned by the rapid turn of events, I stumbled over my words. “Wh…what? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You think I love him more, don’t you?”
Of course he loved Mitch more. Anyone in his or her right mind would love Mitch more.
“No,” I lied.
But the dumbfounded expression on my father’s face told me he was connecting the dots for the very first time. “Keith, listen to me. I’ve never shown your brother favoritism. I treat all my kids the same, and you can’t say otherwise because it’s not true.”
Oh, how I wanted to believe him! Maybe Dad didn’t treat us differently, but it was in the way he looked at Mitch. That told the real story. When my brother was around, my father was like a kid meeting his idol for the first time. With me, there was no excitement. I was just a problem that constantly needed fixing.
It was an injustice I’d watched my whole life, so he could say what he wanted, but I knew the truth. Anger simmered just below the surface, and if my father continued down this treacherous path, I wasn’t sure I could prevent an explosion. “Drop it!” I warned.
Maybe Dad sensed my instability because he backed off immediately. We sat in silence for a minute, neither one of us knowing what to say.
Finally, he lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. “You’re in t
rouble, kid. Big trouble. At this point, I’m not sure if they’ll let you stay in school or even graduate.”
I scoffed. “I’ll graduate, Dad. Jesus. In California, even the biggest idiots earn a high school diploma.”
“Yeah, well, California hasn’t met you yet.”
The diss was so unexpected and hilarious that it had us both in stitches and allowed us to bury the hatchet, if only for a short time. Sadly, the lighthearted moment didn’t linger.
“I’m being serious now, Keith. Have you even thought about what you want to do with your life after high school? And don’t say pirate. That’s not an actual profession.”
“It is in Somalia.”
“Yes, well you live in America, where pirating is frowned upon.”
Dad’s eyes sharpened on me as he reached over and gripped my shoulder. “Look, kid, we need to turn this sinking ship around before it’s too late. This is your last year in high school, and you’ve already missed nearly every day. And if you do miraculously show up to class, you’re stoned. I’m worried about you. I’m afraid you’re going to get lost. There’s a big, wide world out there ready and willing to swallow you whole.”
I knew that. Of course I did. Seeing my father look so troubled pained me. We’d always been close, and even though he didn’t approve of my lifestyle, my father had always stuck by my side. During those tough middle school years, he was there. Through my ice-skating rink arrest, he was there. But the fact remained that I was my father’s greatest disappointment.
“I’m not going to get lost,” I whispered. “I’ve got it all under control.”
“No, you don’t. Skating by just isn’t going to cut it anymore. You’re turning eighteen in a few of months, and once that happens, nothing I say or do will protect you. Don’t think I don’t know you’re dealing, Keith. Mom and I, we don’t know how to help you any more, and we’re both terrified. If you continue down this path, there’s a real good chance you’ll end up in prison.”
I shifted my gaze out the window, shame coloring my cheeks. It was a fear, for sure. I wasn’t strong enough to survive behind bars. “I know.”
“It’s not too late. Mom and I can get you through this, but you have to do your part too. No more skipping school. You have to pass all your classes and get a high school diploma. And, Keith – no more drugs. No more dealing.”
That last one was a taller order. Ridding myself of whatever leftover drugs I had was one thing, but there was also the matter of my side business. Not only were the students at Pearl Beach not going to be happy with a hiatus, neither was my supplier. I’d been making us both good money as of late, and separating myself from the trade wouldn’t be as easy as just stepping away. But I had to try… for him.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He flared like a freshly struck match. “Are you saying no more drugs?”
“Yes. I’ll clean up my act, for you.”
“No, Keith. For you. It has to be for you.”
Although I didn’t really see the difference, it seemed important enough to him that I nodded my agreement. His happiness filled me. Like no one else in my life, my father understood me. He’d once been me – the loveable loser. I wanted more than anything for him to be proud of me the same way he was proud of Mitch. Maybe if I could get myself clean… Maybe. Because, at the end of the day, I was still a daddy’s boy, desperately seeking his love and affection.
5
Keith: For Me
Although my father and I had come to a shaky agreement, he still didn’t trust me enough to allow me to walk into school by myself. Not that I blamed him, after the numerous times I’d strolled in the front entrance to the high school only to slip out the back as soon as his car left the parking lot. This time he refused to allow me out of his sight, gripping the back of my shirt as he guided me through the halls and into the main office.
And now here we were, sitting side by side on the bench outside the principal’s office, just two rebels awaiting our sentencing.
Clasping my hands behind my head, I turned toward him. “So, dude, what’re you in for?”
Although he tried, there was no suppressing the smile that transformed his face. Still, he refused to humor me with a glance in my direction. “This had better be the last time I come to the principal’s office, Keith.”
“It will be.”
“Because every time I’m in here, it shaves like five years off my life. At this rate, I’ll die at fifty.”
Patting his shoulder, I reassured him. “And you’ll have lived a good, long life.”
“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” He laughed. “I hope someday you get to experience the joy of having a kid just like you.”
“One can dream.”
The door opened and Principal King sighed as he narrowed his gaze on me. There was no love lost between the two of us. I estimated I’d taken up more of his time than a thousand normal kids combined. In fact, by the looks of his weathered face, I might eventually have a hand in his early death as well.
“In my office.” His clipped voice dripped with contempt.
The desire to flee was strong, but I’d run out of options. This shit was what I’d created. Dutifully, I rose to my feet but, before disappearing into the principal’s office, I turned toward my father, in need of a strength I knew I didn’t possess. But what I found in his eyes stopped me dead in my tracks – hope, disappointment, love, fear. He’d been beaten down, and his face was distorted with worry. Dad hadn’t been kidding. This was killing him. I was killing him. I fought the urge to go to him, throw my arms around his shoulders, and bury my head into his neck like I had when I was young and things were still easy.
Regret burned deep as I dropped my head and shuffled into the office.
* * *
Thankfully, the browbeating was short-lived. Principal King was more straightforward than my father had been – no cryptic alphabet clues hinting at my fate, just stark warnings about my future at Pearl Beach High School. Never had it been spelled out so clearly. The wiggle room I’d always banked on was gone. Either I got with the program or I was out.
Yeah. I’d heard it all before. The same threat had played out so many times over the years I could recite it in my sleep. So why did this one leave me feeling so edgy? Had it been that glimpse into my father’s soul, or was it just that I could finally see the future in front of me, and it wasn’t looking pretty? Continuation school – I thought not. I was either going to graduate from Pearl Beach or not at all… and ‘not at all’ seemed to be the prevailing wind.
But now I had the power to shock the hell out of the masses. The choice was simple, really: clean up my act and empty my lungs of poison, or become the nothingness everyone considered me to be. I’d been at a similar crossroads a few years before in the lunch area of Barnum Middle School. I’d had the option to walk away then, but I’d chosen the wrong path. And now, once again faced with a decision that could very possibly seal my fate, I was still waffling. What was I waiting for? All I had to do was pick what was behind door number two… and give myself a future.
It occurred to me then that I’d all but given up on myself. I myself had bought into the common belief that I was a fuck up, and I was living up to that expectation smashingly. To everyone else, I was a joke. The only people who could still see me inside the caricature I’d become was my family. My dad. My mom. My siblings. I was still something to them, even though I could feel myself losing ground there too.
This had to stop. I didn’t want to be that guy… the one people laughed at, not with. I didn’t want to be Pearl Beach High’s well-loved slacker anymore. I knew if I put my mind to it, I could turn this around. Certainly my people skills and proclivity for money should be enough to carry over into a legitimate job whose employee benefits didn’t include jail time.
So while I listened to the principal talk about the future he believed I’d never have, I made what I hoped would be a life-changing decision. Instead of walking toward da
nger, like I did so many years ago, I would allow my feet to carry me in the opposite direction – to a place where my father could be proud of me again. And maybe even to a place where I could be proud of myself.
* * *
Principal King marched me out into the main office just as the passing period bell rang. Through the large windows that spanned the entire wall, I spotted a welcoming committee of sorts. Somehow, the friends I’d left on the beach less than an hour ago were on the other side of the window, sliding their nostrils in grotesque displays along the glass.
I had to hand it to them. They hadn’t left me behind. Instead of being halfway to the zoo, my buddies had made the side trip to school to spring my sorry ass. With students flooding the hallways, how easy would it be for me to disappear into the crowd?
King grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “I’ll be waiting for you in Mrs. Lee’s class in seven minutes. I expect you to be there. If you make the wrong choice and follow them out the back door, I’m going to recommend you for transfer. Do we understand each other?”
I jerked my arm out of Principal King’s hold. He might own my ass, but that didn’t give him the right to manhandle me. Besides, he didn’t need to worry. I’d already made my choice, and it didn’t include skidding my nasal passage along single pane glass.
“Yeah, I understand.”
King adjusted his tie and, before he could turn back toward his office, I asked, “You’re not going to call them in?”
He followed my eyes and we both settled on my friends, two of whom were now suggestively pressing their nipples to the window.
“What’s the point? None have enough credits to graduate even with intervention. Besides, they’ll be gone by lunch.”
“So that’s it? No ultimatums? You’re just giving up on them?”
“They’ve given up on themselves. Do you know that I personally called every one of their parents this morning? One after another, I dialed up the emergency numbers on file, and I got through to a parent or guardian of every single one of them. Your father was the only one who brought you back.”
Rogue Wave: Cake Series Book Five Page 5