I walked into the dark house and flipped on some lights. I took a deep breath and grabbed some leftover pizza. I hate being home alone, and lately, it seems like he's never hear.
As my pizza heated, I couldn't help but think back to Nicole. Had I meant to kiss her?
I heard the front door open as my pizza finished, and I grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be a plastic fork.
I heard footsteps down the hallway and I slowly crept to the door of the kitchen. I waited, poised to attack.
"Good one there Shane," dad chuckled, walking into the kitchen. "You could really hurt someone with that."
I slowly stood up. "You scared the shit outta me."
"Well it's good to know that if I was an intruder, you're ready to attack."
I chuckled and placed the fork on the counter.
"Sorry I've been leaving you here a lot lately," dad said, turning on the coffee maker. "After the captain promotion, life at the firehouse has been hectic. But I think I got my schedule back under control."
"Awesome," I said, with a fake-smile. I pulled the pizza out of the microwave.
"As for you and me, how about a movie night tomorrow? I got the day off. I'll pick up a couple of horror films and we can pig out."
The plan would be great, and it might actually bond us, except for tomorrow marked one year since my mom had died.
"Sounds awesome dad," I lied. It seemed like that's all I did to him lately, lie to make him happy.
He smiled back and went to cleaning up the kitchen. He was a man of few words, but we were always in a comfortable silence, having been through so much together over the past few years.
"So I was going through my old office the other day," dad said, as he finished putting together the ingredients for his coffee.
I cocked an eyebrow and took a bite of my pizza. "Wha?" I asked, my mouth full of pizza. He was actually going to start a conversation with me?
"Remember when you and your mom used to finger paint together?"
I raised my eyebrows. "We what?"
"She never told you about that?"
I shook my head, a small smile making its way onto my face. I loved hearing stories about mom.
"When you were three, you two used to make these horrible drawings, and then you'd ask me what it was. And I'd have no fucking clue, but I'd play my cards right and you'd end up telling me. Well, I hung them up around my office at one point. And I guess they were packed away eventually. But I found them, and on the back of each one is the name of what it's supposed to be. I spent a good hour going through each one of them, trying to guess."
"You have no life," I muttered, shaking my head.
"That is true. But I failed each and every drawing."
I couldn't help but smile. "Mom used to make them too?"
He nodded. "And they were just as terrible. You two were not meant to be artists."
"Like yours would be any better."
"Oh they were."
"You finger painted too?"
"Hell yeah, someone had to show you how to do it."
"Way to keep your man card there."
"Says the kid who used to paint me Disney princesses."
YOU ARE READING
Monroe Academy for the ArtsTeen Fiction
Completed. Thousands of students apply, and only 75 get in per year. This prestigious academy is seemingly perfect on the outside, it's every student's dream. But the students struggle to keep up the facade. Each student holds a secret, something de...