I look down at my plate and see the message spelt out in lines of Alphabetti spaghetti across the toast.
JAKE
I AM SORRY
ABOUT THE SCHOOL CONCERT
CAN YOU FORGIVE ME
DAD
This isn’t lunch – it’s a letter of apology.
Dad sits down next to Mum at the kitchen table, his blue-green eyes glancing hopefully in my direction as he waits for my reply. When I say my dad has got blue-green eyes, that’s exactly what I mean. His left eye is blue and his right eye is green. Just another thing that makes kids stop and stare and tell me my dad is seriously weird.
‘Yum,’ says Mum, picking up her knife and fork. ‘My favourite. Again.’
She’s joking, but I don’t feel like laughing. And I don’t feel like eating lunch any more either.
Getting up from the table, I push the plate away. ‘I’m not hungry,’ I say as I turn towards the door.
‘Jake—’ Dad begins, but I’ve slammed the door behind me before he can say another word.
I race up the stairs to my room, two steps at a time. I’m not talking to Dad. I haven’t said a word to him since the school concert. My bedroom door is wide open so I slam this behind me too, letting the sound of my anger thud through the house.
I don’t want to let this feeling go. The anger is like an energy inside me, but as I flop down on to my bed I just feel so tired of it all.
I remember the chants echoing round the hall, Dad waving in triumph to the audience whilst I was left dumped on my backside, sitting there forgotten on the floor.
There’s a knock on my door.
I ignore it.
I’m still not talking to him.
Then the handle turns and Mum pops her head round the door.
‘Jake,’ she says. ‘Are you OK?’
Sitting up on my bed, I shake my head.
‘I want a divorce,’ I tell her.
Mum laughs. ‘What do you mean?’ she asks. ‘Jake, you’re only ten years old. You’ve not even got a girlfriend yet, unless there’s something you’re not telling me.’
I blush. I haven’t got a girlfriend. Well, I have got a friend who’s a girl – Amba – but that’s totally different and anyway that’s not what I meant.
‘I want a divorce from Dad,’ I explain. ‘I looked it up on the internet. It’s a thing you can do. Divorce your parents. But I don’t mean you. Just Dad.’
Mum’s stopped laughing now. Quietly closing the door behind her, she sits down next to me on the bed. Brushing her dark fringe out of her eyes, Mum peers at me in concern.
‘Surely things can’t be that bad.’
I look at Mum in disbelief.
‘Dad jumped on stage with a bin on his head and ruined my school concert. Everything he does is completely embarrassing and we’re still eating Alphabetti spaghetti every day of the week.’ I feel the anger inside me start to fizz again. ‘How can you say things aren’t that bad?’
Mum frowns, a worried look creasing the lines around her eyes. Her mouth opens then closes then opens again. It looks like she’s about to say something, but can’t seem to find the right words.
‘Your dad’s different, Jake,’ she says finally. ‘Yes, some of the things he does can seem a little odd, but he’s got good hearts – I mean, heart. Just one.’
I look at Mum suspiciously. She’s supposed to be the normal parent, but sometimes she sounds almost as strange as Dad.
‘He knows he let you down last night,’ Mum continues. ‘He just got a bit overexcited when he saw you dressed up like Luke Skywalker. It reminded him of all those games you used to play together when you were younger. I used to watch the two of you in the back garden, fighting for hours with those toy lightsabers. Your dad just thought it would be fun to join in again. He didn’t realize you’d be so angry with him.’
I want to stay angry at Dad, but as I close my eyes for a second the good memories come flooding back. I remember how we used to curl up on the sofa together with a bucket of popcorn for our Star Wars movie marathons. Then when the film ended we’d race out into the back garden for a lightsaber duel, Dad laughing as he tried to show me some Jedi Knight moves. And when it got dark we’d sit on the back step together, chatting as we stared at the stars. That’s when Dad told me that one day he’d take me to a galaxy far, far away. He was joking, of course, but back then I used to think my dad could do anything.
Mum puts her arm around my shoulders as I open my eyes again.
‘Give him the chance to show you that he’s sorry, Jake,’ she says, giving me a gentle hug. ‘That’s all your dad wants – the chance to make it up to you.’
I don’t know what to say, so in the end I just nod my head.
‘That’s great,’ Mum says with a smile. ‘I know some father-son bonding time will do the trick. And I’ve thought of the perfect trip.’
Uh-oh.