CHAPTER13
So, yeah, I avoid lunch and hide in the library. There aren’t any students here today, and the librarian has her nose stuck in a book. Just as well because I don’t feel like trying to befriend her. I doubt having Mrs. Ice and the librarian as my only friends here will help make my life any easier.
But I really do hate hiding. It’s too much like running away.
I don’t bother to sit at the computer and try to find a job. Instead, I walk around looking at the books on the shelves. There’s a huge section devoted to romance, and I roll my eyes.
Love is stupid. It turns people into fools.
I've known this since I was six.
My mom and Father send me to bed every night at six. Father says it was the perfect bedtime for a six-year-old, but I know it is because he wants me out of his hair so he can do whatever he wants with my mom.
My best friend Katie says it was important for a husband and wife to have alone time. I don’t know what that means, but they can be alone together, I guess.
But I am curious. Just what does my father want to do with my mom? So that night, I sneak out of bed and stand outside their bedroom door. It is shut, like it always is. I never am allowed inside if my father is. Sometimes, my mom will let me in there. She will take me to their huge bathroom with the fancy mirror, and she will brush my hair.
“You have to stop this,” my mom is saying.
“Stop what?”
“You need to spend less time with her and more time with your family.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m here every night, aren’t I?”
“Until you disappear every night. Do you think I sleep through the night? That I don’t realize you slip out of your bed every night?”
“Who exactly is this her you’re referring to?”
“Oh, Brandon, do I really need to spell it out for you? I know.”
“You know what?”
“I know about you and Sally.”
“What is there for you to know? I’ll tell you. Nothing. If anything is going on between us, that’s between Sally and me.”
“I don’t think so.”
I never heard my mom use that tone before.
“I am your wife—”
“And you have the ring. You live in this house. You have your servants. You even have your daughter.”
I flinch, not liking the sound of that. I amtheirdaughter. His daughter. Not just my mom’s.
“You have everything you could ask for,” my father continues.
“Well, that’s not enough.”
“It’s all you’re getting,” my father growls. He sounds very much like a grizzly bear.
“I’m asking… No. I’m holding you to the vows we made on our wedding day. You will be true to me and honor me—”
“You will honor me.” My father’s voice is so very cold, ice cold.
My mom says nothing.