Absently, I lift my head, try to find him. I feel so childish and alone. This can’t be normal.
“Were you just going to become an actress without telling me? Youknowhow hard it is to make a living in a career like that. I thought you were more levelheaded than this.”
And just like that, her notion of support crumbles, and I’mstuck with the whiplash.
Lex
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Do something.”
Mr. D’plume rolls his tired eyes up to me and sighs. “What, Mr. Hawthorn, do you expect me to do? Whatever’s going on out there is between Calypso and her mother.”
My fists clench, and I know if I step in, there won’t be a way to salvage things. I can protect her, sure, but her mother will never come around to me again. I don’t know if I can make that decision for Calypso, if I can force the choice of me or her mother onto her. “You’re our teacher. Justdo something. Interrupt. Check in. Anything. Hasn’t she told you about that woman?”
“She has,” he mumbles.
Thenwhy isn’t he moving? Agitation boils in my veins, and I catch Agatha out of the corner of my eye when her laughter drifts from several rows down to hit me. Surrounded by her friends, she titters about how gloriously she manipulated the situation to her favor to completely crush someone who has hardly done a thing to deserve it.
I can’t deal with her. Not right now.
“Mr. D’plume, please.”
He gets to his feet, agonizingly slow. “If I interrupt too soon, it won’t look good. Calypso’s strong. But more than that.” His head dips toward the double doors that lead into the hall. “What’s happening out there? It’s nothing new. To kids from homes like Calypso’s, that’s just another Tuesday. It sucks, sure, but she’ll survive.”
Survive. Calypso deserves to do more thansurvive. This is something she doesn’t want her mother to touch. This is something she knows better than to reveal. That woman has already chewed up too many other vital, precious pieces of her.
I can’t bear the idea of her mother robbing this, too.
When Mr. D’plume finally moves toward the door, I stick to his heels, wincing when grating words reach me in hushed tones.
“What if youdidbecome an actress? Don’t you know all the kinds of horrible things that happen in that industry?Sex sells. You wouldn’t even have a choice of what other people did with your body.”
Mr. D’plume opens the doors, and the hard tones screech to a halt, turn.
My gaze fixes on Calypso. Head bowed, she stands perfectly still, just taking the beating. Rage burns on the back of my tongue, and I can’t even swallow.
“Excuse me. I’m having a conversation with my daughter.” Snapped and violent.
Mr. D’plume clears his throat, clasping his hands. “I’m just making sure everything’s okay. We have to get back to rehearsal soon.”
Calypso’s head lifts, her distant eyes finding me. They cling. Hopeless and void.
I’ve heard my father’s harsh tone state facts and tear into my most fragile pieces, one insecurity at a time, but I’ve never heard his voice vibrate with violence like this before.
Never once.
Not even when he’s angry does malice lace his words.
Suddenly, I can’t leave Calypso alone over there. Suddenly, I’m not sure if letting her choose her mother is safe. I’ve sensed the hints of narcissism in the brief snatches Calypso told me about, I even used those characteristics to my advantage when I convinced the woman of our situation, but I couldn’t imagine it looked likethis.
No matter how hurt my father’s words make me, no matter how angry he gets, I’ve never felt like my own house isn’t safe enough. I’ve never fled in broken terror. Not like she did when Ibrought her home that one cold night.
Is she even listening to anything anymore? Is she even still here?
Finding my way to her side while Mr. D’plume attempts to defuse the situation, I wrap my arms around her and try to offer some slim amount of stability.
She leans into me, dead weight. “I can’t do it,” she whispers.
