I drag my ass across the parking lot and throw open the car door. Larry's head snaps around as the door shuts with a loud bang.
Timidly, I sink back into my seat, trying to look anywhere but at him—while still making sure he notices I'm upset.
He says nothing to me, just keeps staring at me through the overhead mirror. I feel even more uneasy.
I've avoided talking to Nikki all day. I know I was mean in the morning, and that she meant well and shit, but my ego wouldn't take that. I fold my arms, pout my lips, and stare out the window.
We stop in traffic for a minute, and the car beside us has a small kid in the back seat licking the glass and making faces at me. I turn my face away.
Larry pulls up at the store.
"Huh?" I ask, genuinely confused.
"You're working today," Larry says shortly and turns the key. The car goes silent, and the sharp quiet pierces my ears.
"Huh?" I say again.
"Get out of the car. Make sure you bring your bag in with you." He steps out and stands by my door, waiting for me to come out before he locks up.
"But, Larry..." I groan as I slowly plant my legs on the concrete sidewalk. "I don't wanna."
"Changes nothing."
"I—I had a bad day today," I whine, wanting sympathy and an excuse to go home and be alone.
He doesn't reply and turns away from me. As he walks in, he throws over his shoulder, "Fix your attitude before you come in here."
His words sting like a slap, and I quickly hurry my steps to catch up with him. I step into the store, and the employees who notice me greet me instantly. I shrug them off as politely as I can and walk over to my dad's office.
I knock, but he doesn't answer, so I push the door open and walk in. I find him on the phone, looking very upset about something. He smiles at me briefly before switching back to snapping at the person on the line. I tentatively take a seat.
"Leland, I've told you!"
Oh?! He's talking to my mom. I squirm, suddenly feeling very awkward.
"Yeah, that's too bad—"
...
"You know what? Get off my phone!"
He puts his phone down and sighs in exasperation. After a few seconds, his flushed face slowly pales and his eyebrows relax. He turns to me with a big smile.
"Hi, Nana!" he greets cheerily.
I realize I'm twisting my sweaty fingers together, so I shove my hands under my thighs. "Uh... hey, Daddy."
"How was your day?"
"Uhh... good?" I shrug.
"You're sure?" he asks, one eyebrow raised.
I shrug again. "I'm alright. How are you? Who were you talking to?"
His smile drops for a second, and I flinch. "Oh. That... um... your mom and I were having a conversation and—"
"About what?"
"Well," he says awkwardly, tracing the swirly designs on his notebook with his finger. "Well..."
"Yeah, whatever. You don't have to tell me."
The next couple of minutes are awkward. I stare at the account books and papers messily spread across his desk. His phone dings, and he picks it up, scrolling while glancing at me every few seconds. I begin mentally constructing a reason to leave.
Luckily, Dameon—one of the cashiers—walks in.
"Uh... sir? May I see you for a second?"
My dad springs up from his seat like he's been waiting for that all his life. "Yes?" He glances at me on his way out. "Honey, help yourself to whatever. But please be nice and don't eat all the expensive merch."
"Am I not?" I pout playfully.
He shakes his head vigorously. "No!"
He leaves before I can say another word and locks me in. I'm not worried about him forgetting me for hours, since I have a spare key. I pull out my phone and see a few messages from Nikki.
Hey!
Won't you come for lunch? I've been waiting!! 😣😭
Oh, crap. I suddenly remember that I stood her up. That sick feeling curls in my stomach.
Annie?! Where you at? Can't find you!!
Are you missing or sum?!
These texts are from after dismissal. I didn't tell her that Larry came to pick me up. I start wondering if she's still at school, alone, looking for me.
Nah. She realized you ditched her and that you're a total bitch, my inner monologue yells.
Tears fill my eyes, and I hug myself. Another text comes in just then.
Heyyy!!!
I don't open it. I leave it on delivered, switch my phone to airplane mode, and yank my huge textbooks out of my bag. I frantically flip through the pages, pretending to understand how decimals and fractions work. Soon, I'm tired of faking it.
I grab my key and walk out of the office.
"Hey—could I take that?"
The employee looks confused as I take the broom from his hands and start sweeping, trying to distract my overstimulated brain.