Homeroom

7: Tongue-Tied

The weekend whizzes by pretty quickly. Before I know it, it's somehow Sunday night, and I'm finishing up another book in the small living room of my house. My book lays open on my lap in front of me, and I skim over the words as I subconsciously bite on my nails.

"Callie?" my dad asks from the kitchen as he walks into the living room. "Can you please come downstairs and help me out with the washing machine."

I look up from my book to see my 41-year old dad, still wearing his button shirt and slacks, looking completely worn-out. His black-rimmed reading glasses balance on top of his graying, dark-brown hair.

I smile, slightly laughing and shaking my head. "Sure, I'll show you."

We both head downstairs to the basement, and I show him how to work the washer and where to put the fabric softener. He always seems to forget what to do first and what goes where. After we both throw in the light colored clothing and shut the lid of the washer machine, my dad and I head back upstairs.

"Callie?" he asks solemnly as we both sit down on the sofa.

I know exactly what he's going to talk about, and I don't want him to. I hate speaking, or even thinking, about her. "Yeah?"

A frown etches deep into his face. "I'm sorry I failed you."

"What?" I ask in disbelief. There is no way he can take the blame for this one.

"I said I'm sorry I failed you. It was my job to make sure-"

I silence him by cutting him off. "Dad, stop; this isn't your fault, and I don't blame you, okay?"

He sighs, "I know but-"

"There's nothing you can do about it. Just accept what happened and work on moving on. There's no use in looking back on the past when the only thing you can change is the future."

He nods and stares at his clasped hands resting between his knees.

I know it's going to take him a long time to heal, but he needs to know that there was nothing he could have done to prevent this. Sometimes, life deals you a couple of bad cards, and it's up to you to figure out what to do with them.

* * * * *

I slam my Chemistry book on the table, starling Charlie. He almost falls of his chair, but catches himself by grasping at the edge of the lab table.

He glares at me, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Geez, someone's in an awful mood today."

I raise my eyebrow, purse my lips, and sit down on the squeaky lab stool. "Well, yeah, obviously. Someone didn't show up to my volleyball game."

He shakes his head at himself and groans. "Sorry, I totally forgot. I'll make it up to you somehow, I promise."

"Dude, don't make promises you can't keep."

"I can keep promises!" he defends.

The bell rings and Mr. Thompson tells us all to copy down the notes on the board while he takes attendance. I squint and look around Luke's big head to copy down a couple of definitions. "Sure you can," I sarcastically remark.

Charlie pulls out a pencil from his backpack and copies stuff from the board, too. "How about I take you to Al's party this Friday. I'll even give you a ride home, too."

"How is that 'making it up to me'?" I ask.

He shrugs, attempting to hide a grin. "I know you can't resist a good party."

Alright, so maybe I do love attending a good party every once in a while. But, to clarify, I definitely don't go to the house parties with mountains of alcohol lying around. 

I roll my eyes at him and sigh. "Alright, fine, I'll go."

"Yes!" he whisper-screams, smiling widely and giggling like a little kid opening presents on Christmas.

"Charlie!" Mr. Thompson calls out. "Since you seem so enthusiastic about chemistry, would you like to come up here and help me with the demonstration?"

I muffle a laugh with my hand as Charlie's face whitens, and his eyes widen.

Luke turns around to look at me. I'm guessing he was curious about who made the weird laughing noise. Sensing a challenge on the horizon, I stare him right in the eye, winking at him. "You like what you see?"

"Like what I see? I don't see anything but the skeleton of a human: a heartless she-beast," he retorts, laughing to himself.

I flinch; that one really stung. I didn't expect an eloquently-worded insult to escape his lips, and I don't have a good comeback for that one.

"Really, Luke? That was rude," Charlie says, glaring at him as he walks to the front of the classroom. He joins the teacher at the head of the classroom, putting on a pair of safety glasses. Mr. Thompson gives us curious looks, but doesn't say anything.

"She asked for it," Luke mutters as he turns back around in his seat.

"Just chill," I hear Aaron whisper to him, nudging Luke's arm. "That was really low and totally uncalled for," he adds. Subtlety, he glances over his shoulder and smiles reassuringly at me.

For the first time, I don't sensor my true emotions with sarcasm or cruelty towards Aaron. Instead, I smile back at him and self-consciously push a lock of my hair behind my ear, looking back down at my lab paper. 

Looks like the kid was wise enough to take my advice after all. And maybe, just maybe, I found an ally in him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

[A/N] Hey, guys! I hope you like the update because I really do :) Today was currently the first day of school and MY FIRST PERIOD WRITING WORKSHOP CLASS IS AWESOME! The teacher is so nice and peppy, and I'm in a class full of really funny seniors! (I'm a sophomore). Lets hope it's going to be an awesome school year :)

Vote and comment please? Good stats are my motivation to write more :)