“Maxwell.”
I looked him in the eye. “Hello, sir.”
“Get inside.”
He stepped back, allowing me passage. But as I walked past him, he grabbed my arm and held tight as he closed the door. His grip intensified, and I knew it would leave a bruise. But I didn’t say anything, didn’t wince. I just stood still and waited for him to close and lock the door, already prepared for whatever punishment he wanted to give me.
Then he whirled around and boxed me in the ear so hard that my skull snapped against my neck. I gasped at the sudden impact. I lifted my hand to hold it to my ear, blinking against the loud ringing echoing through my head.
“Where the hell have you been?!” he roared past the noise in my head.
“I-I … I was at the—"
He hit my other ear with a flat palm. “Don’t you tell me you were at the library, you worthless, lying sack of shit. The library closed an hour ago! Now, tell me the truth!”
I couldn’t help it; a tear worked its way out of my eye. “It’s my birthday,” I whispered as if it mattered. And itdid. It mattered tome. It was my birthday, and I had played a video game and eaten a grilled cheese sandwich and had fun with a friend.
“Oh, it’s yourbirthday?” Dad mocked me in a whiny tone before smacking the back of my head.
“Dad, stop,” I begged, holding my hands up to protect myself.
“Stop? You want me to stop? Then tell me the fucking truth, Maxwell! Where the hell have you been?”
I pulled in a breath as the ringing slowly subsided. I turned to face him and the cold, uncaring look on his face and said, “I was at the library. I stayed until they closed and took the long way home. I got lost.”
He held my gaze, waiting for me to falter, to buckle under the weight of my lies. But I stared right back, unblinking, until he twisted his lips into a sneer.
“Go to bed.”
Against my will, my face fell. “But …”
Dad cocked his head, a dare in his eyes. “Butwhat?”
My mother cared about me exactly one day out of the year: my birthday—if she remembered, and she had remembered this year. She made dinner. She bought a cake. She gave me a card, usually with a little money inside. I didn’twantto go to bed. I didn’twantto miss my birthday. Gosh, even Dad was usually kind enough on my birthday to not act like … well, like this, but I’d justhadto be late. I’dhadto be selfish.
I dropped my gaze to look at the carpet. It never did look the same after Smoky shit all over it. With the appearances my dad liked to keep, I was surprised he hadn’t replaced it yet. But maybe it was because of me. Maybe it was kept as a reminder of how badly I had once screwed up. That Smoky had died because ofme.
“But I still have homework,” I said, my voice low and unmoved. I hardly sounded like myself, void of all emotion.
Dad grunted and brushed past me. “Should’ve thought about that while you were at thelibrary.”
***
I was glad for those two grilled cheese sandwiches as I hunkered under the covers of my bed. Otherwise, I would’ve been starving as I turned the pages ofDraculaand delved deep into the walls of a cold, dark Transylvanian castle.
It was risky to read at home for leisure—and even riskier after I was ordered to go to bed. If Dad knew I wasstill awake, I could only imagine what he’d do or say to me—or worse, my new book. But it was my birthday, and if it couldn’t end with a decent dinner and cake, then it was going to end with my head between the pages and nowhere near my reality, which I’d suddenly realized was far worse than I’d ever known before.
CHAPTER TWO
“Max!” Grace squealed as I walked through the door.
She and Lucy had stayed home from school after waking up with a fever and sore throat. Now, the two of them were sitting in the living room, playing with a few Barbies they had gotten for their birthday and doll furniture made from cardboard boxes.
“I thought you guys were sick,” I teased, closing the door behind me.
“We are,” Lucy insisted.
“So, shouldn’t you be resting or something?” I stood with my hands on my hips, eyeing them with exaggerated suspicion.
