Chapter 37

Heather’s Letters Blog Entry

Draft: October 27th

A couple things. First, my father has been calling a lot recently. At first, Mom told him what happened to me. Her version, anyway. And I’d told him bits and pieces, of course. But Mom was still mad at him for the affair, so she’s tried to limit what we tell him. Still, Dad promised us all that ever since he took the transfer to New Hampshire, he’s been single. Which is more than I can say for Mom.

But I digress.

Being mad at Dad, Mom played down what happened to me. That is, until Dad read about the whole incident in the paper. As soon as he realized how serious the situation was, he called Mom again. She was none too happy—she’s never happy to hear from him, but this was even worse. See, one of the things about my father is his temper. Once he gets set off, there’s no stopping him. He’s like a nuclear furnace, and once he reaches critical mass, he’s impossible to stop until there’s a meltdown.

On the phone, he was ballistic. He demanded to know how and why circumstances had allowed me to be cut up like that. He demanded to know how and why he was kept in the dark about it. Why those responsible hadn’t been found out and expelled. Why Mom said I’d merely been scratched. Why he hadn’t been told the real reason I’d be transferring to Hawthorne.

How do I know he said all this? When Mom was on the phone with him, he was shouting so loudly that I could hear him just fine through the phone—from all the way across the room.

Then of course Mom started yelling, too. With my father, it’s hard not to. His anger is contagious, and you can’t get through to him unless you’re yelling just as loud as him. Anyway, Mom said the same things she always says when she talks to my father. Where was he the past few months? Why weren’t we important to him all those long, lonely nights he spent at the law firm? And the not-so-lonely nights? Why, now, does he suddenly care about his family? I could tell she was using her anger to quell her would-be tears. When Mom gets upset, she grows a hard shell. She buries herself in work or anger or whatever else will keep her from confronting her emotions.

It’s probably why she’s been working so hard.

And dating so much.

I had about all I could take of listening to the two of them, so I went to my room. Ever since my father left, Mom has tried not to mention him. New Hampshire’s pretty far, and so Ruby and I never see him. Mom has full custody for now, and she doesn’t think he’s a good influence. Still…

Something about the whole thing made me terribly sad. Not sad because my parents were fighting, either. A different kind of sad. My father gets angry, it’s true; but it was nice to have someone actually care so much to get angry over what happened to me. See, I get my dad. He gets angry because he sees so much wrong with the world, and he’s only one person who can only do so much. He raised some good questions. Why didn’t Mom go to the school and demand the questions my father asked? Why was Principal Elders not questioned in more detail? Why didn’t he respond when I was screaming in the alley? Why was I left alone to deal with everything all by myself? And why was I burdened with watching Ruby? I’m only a teenager.

A few minutes after the yelling stopped, Mom came into my room with the phone in her hand. My father wanted to talk to me. He asked me everything about the situation. Was I okay? Who was involved? What was being done? Why hadn’t I named my attackers?

I tried to be evasive, answering in monosyllables. It’s what Mom wanted me to do—and she was standing right there! But my father is smarter than all that. He wanted the truth—and I don’t know what it was, but before I knew it I was telling him everything. Everything! Everything came pouring out of my mouth, and Mom threw her hands up in frustration before storming out of my room. And I just kept on talking. Dad always was a stickler for the truth. I inherited the trait from him. Anyways, by the end of the conversation I was in tears. Partly it was the trauma of reliving the painful events. But partly they were tears of relief. It felt so good to have someone to confide in, someone to hang onto my every word. Someone to put my problems above his own.

After that, Mom got back on the phone to wrap things up with Dad. When she came back to my room, she was furious! She said my father insisted on coming down for the weekend—all thanks to what I had told him. So once again, everything was my fault. Dad would stay in a hotel, Mom said, but he wanted to see me and Ruby.

It’ll make for an interesting weekend. Not that this weekend needs much help being interesting. It’s Homecoming.

Adam and I have been talking again. We still don’t talk in public or even text, but when he’s home by himself he calls me and we talk. He hadn’t mentioned the dance, so I brought it up. We’re both going to go—though Adam is hesitant to go with me, so we’re just going to go separately and “maybe we’ll bump into each other there,” as Adam says. It’s not quite what I was hoping for, and I don’t know if I should go at all. I’m kind of disappointed. I thought, somehow, that with the both of us leaving, Adam would just kind of drop his whole fear of being seen with me. It’s not a good feeling, I can tell you. Not wanting to be seen in public with the person who means the most to me. I know he’s been through a lot, and I know I should have patience with Adam, but haven’t I been through more?

I’m not sure how I feel about it all. I’d rather not write about it anymore.

All week, Adam’s just been fixated on this game. He’s obsessed. It’s all he talks about when he calls. It’s like he thinks something magical is going to happen on that field. I hope he finds whatever he’s looking for. I hope he finds happiness. Even if it’s not with me.

Ruby’s all excited, though. Adam personally invited her to the game. Ever since he started talking to us again, a part of Ruby’s old self has returned. She’s been going around taking pictures like crazy for her little newspaper. I told her she should think about being a photographer rather than a journalist! She’s so cute, though. She’s got her outfit all picked out, and of course she’s bringing her camera to cover the game for The Ruby Review.

The best part for me, though, is that no matter what happens this weekend, Monday, Halloween, is the last day of the quarter. The last day I have to spend trapped within the walls of Orchard Valley High School. After that, I never have to set foot in the place for the rest of my life, and I never again have to call myself a Thunderbolt! On Tuesday, November 1, Adam and I get a fresh start at Hawthorne Academy.

And I can hardly wait.