All red eyed and drippy nosed. You don't fool me. Don't f-f-fool them....

She gave a vague wave.

W-we all know just what you are --.

a m-monster!

246.

I Don't Want to Relive That scene, which grew as ugly as any my mind can replay.

Grandma and Daddy sparred. Verbally.

Then physically, until someone **

pulled them apart, spitting poison as they separated, not just for that **

evening, but, at least if Daddy has his way, forever afterward.

That's the last solid memory I have of her, broken by secrets. Splintered **

by pain. Escorted into the night, out of our lives. Does she really dare **

try to reenter now? What if I decide to let her back in? I'm guessing **

I'd be crematorium fuel. No coffin. No flowers. Just a hot **

white fire, melting me into bone fragments and ashes.

247.

Then Again, the Sad Fact Is My parents might think cremation too good for me- As I slide books into my backpack, it comes to me they might just weight me down and throw me into Cachuma.

Down, down, into that cold blue lake I'd go, no one the wiser.

Who would even miss me?

Maybe Ian, but after the last couple of days, I'm not so sure.

We've got drama today.

Hopefully our little love scene will warm him (me?) up some and we can talk after. A long conversation, **

like we used to have all the time. That's what we need.

But first I have to get to school. Which means it's time to poke the sleeping bear.

248.

As Expected It's a less than pleasant experience, starting with the obnoxious breath coming out of his open mouth. "Daddy? Wake up. You'll be late for work."

He snorts and his eyes flutter open.

Wha ...?

What happened? Where am I? What time is it?

"You're in the living room. You fell asleep on the sofa. It's a little after seven and I have to hurry to catch the bus."

After seven?

He jumps upright, too fast. I can see the pounding in his temples.

Why didn't you wake me sooner?

"I tried, but you went back to sleep, I guess."

Total lie. But he'll never know it. And right now, all he's thinking about is how his head feels.

249.

Shit. I've got a heavy docket today.

Finally his eyes focus.

And I feel like a truck ran over the top of my head.

"Sorry you don't feel well, Daddy. But I've got to run. See you later, okay?" I grit my teeth and take a step toward the front door.

That's as far as I get.

Daddy's hand clamps around my wrist.

Wait just a minute. Do you remember last night?

Now my teeth grind'

uncomfortably. What about last night, exactly, does he want to discuss?

"Uh, sure, Daddy."

All right, then. No rides with any Brittanys, okay? I want you all in one piece.

He doesn't say just what for.

250.

So of Course Who comes chugging up as I wait for the bus but the very Brittany in question.

Wanna ride?

She's alone in the car, an explanation at the ready.

The guys got in trouble for being late yesterday.

Well, so did I, but I don't want to talk about it. "Ah."

Get in. My mom bought me all new tires, so you're safe.

Not really, but I don't want to say that, either. "Um ..."

You're not scared, are you?

She almost looks hurt.

I glance around, see no sign of Daddy. "Oh, why not?"

Cool. Let's go. Don't want to be late two days in a row!

No, we most definitely don't want that.

251.

We Actually Arrive Ten minutes early. And I have to admit even Brittany's nonstop chatter wasn't as bad as listening to freshmen guys talk about zits.

I can't believe I actually defied Daddy in such an overt manner.

But it feels good. Even better, in fact, than missing the zit talk.

At least as long as I don't get caught. That probably wouldn't feel too great. So far so good, though you never know where **

his spies might be hiding. No use worrying about them now.

Brittany parks. A bit crooked, but what else could I expect?

She giggles.

Even new tires can't help my peripheral vision.

I'm supposed to wear glasses, but they make me look ugly.

Oh, wonderful. I can just see the news: Judge's daughter killed in accident with not-ugly half-blind friend at the wheel.

252.

I File That Away Thank Brittany for the ride, head toward the human knots clogging the locker breezeways.

Pre-first-bell yells. Catcalls.

Laughter. A few tears.