"You should really consider joining a new club—"
My father's voice droned in the background. I had tuned out halfway through. For days now it had been nothing but complaints, critiques, comparisons.
I ignored him, staring at the blur of city streets beyond the window. Anything to avoid looking at him.
"So?" His voice cut sharper. "Which of the ones I listed are you joining?"
I dragged my gaze back slowly. "What?"
His brows knitted and eyes hard with disdain. "You weren't listening. Again."
I swallowed my irritation, careful not to show it. "I don't think I want to join anything right now."
He was silent at first. Then, unexpectedly, he said, "Understandable. You should focus on your studies."
It startled me. Was that… support? From him?
For a second, I thought he was finally letting it go; but no.
"Though I'm still disappointed by what Mr. Lee relayed. Suspended, and not even the courtesy of explaining why. What kind of son brings home shame and no explanation?"
I pushed it off. My father had a talent for dangling warmth only to strip it away the next second. And he didn't stop...
The air in the car felt suffocating. If I opened the door right now and rolled onto the pavement, it might feel lighter than sitting here.
For one brief, unhinged moment, I thought about pulling the handle and rolling out of the moving vehicle. Anything to breathe.
But then the car slowed due to the hold-up stretched down the avenue. That meant I was stuck with him until God knows when.
I shoved in my earphones to drown him out, but his voice cut through anyway. "Take those off. You'll hear me when I speak."
Taking a sigh, I slipped one earbud out, staring out the glass instead. That was when I caught a flash of familiar navy blazer, plaid skirt.
Stan-Hedge uniform.
I leaned forward for a better look just as a tap landed on my shoulder.
"You weren't listening to me again," my father said, frowning. His gaze followed mine. "What are you staring at?"
On the other side of the street, standing next to two oversized suitcases was Porter.
I stiffened, yanking my gaze away.
"No one."
But he refused to let it go. "She's in the same uniform. Stan-Hedge." He watched her stumble, then straighten, refusing to stop. "She's walking all this way with her luggage. In this heat. Look at her."
He explained like I wasn't already seeing it.
"That's what a student does when they're determined," he said. "She pushes forward. You? You sit here sulking with earphones in, waiting to be chauffeured like a prince."
I turned to him, holding his gaze with a glare. "Don't compare me to her."
My father clicked his tongue, finally breaking my gaze, he turned to the driver. "Pull over. We're giving her a ride."
"What? No!" I said too fast.
"Are you embarrassed to be seen with her?"
I let my head fall back in relaxation. "No one's watching. Why do you feel the need to give her a ride?"
"Now that's where you're wrong. People are always watching." His hand flicked toward the driver. "Stop the car. Bring her in things in."
I knew he only gave Porter the ride just to get under my skin, but I refused to bite.
Porter turned to the sound of the horn, water bottle still tipped against her lips. Her eyes widened when she saw us.
The driver popped the trunk and hauled her suitcases in. She climbed inside, looking all sweaty like she'd ran a marathon. Still, she let out a shaky breath before offering the faintest smile. "Thank you for the ride."
"You're welcome," my father said smoothly. "You attend Stan-Hedge as well?"
I sat through hours of them chatting lightly like old school pals. My father didn't stop praising her and she didn't stop bringing my name in, every five seconds.
Both on a mission of making me lose my mind.