The Art of Unopulence

19 | unlearn

Sitting across the table from Dad at breakfast and staying quiet is hard. Especially when he's bent on spending the entire time bashing Nathaniel for being a mindless tosser. It's only Monday morning and I can't imagine how the next few days at home are going to be like.

"It must be difficult not being able to walk. But it serves him right for running out of the house without a care in the world." Dad says bitterly, in a tone that's devoid of any sympathy, stirring milk and one teaspoon of sweetener into his usual morning coffee, "I hope the boy understands how lucky he is that we were able to procure the antidote just in time."

"Hmm."

"He displayed heights of irresponsibility and I'd like to make it known to him that I don't care if he has an itch in his arse or a threat towards his sister—" He continues his angry chain of complaints between hasty sips of his coffee, "In my house, he is expected to follow my rules. I must be updated on his whereabouts at all times."

"Did the higher ups say something?" I ask with a sigh.

Dad glares at me stiffly, "Nothing much. They asked me to be more vigilant."

In military speak, that meant that he'd been threatened with being released from service prematurely if his negligence repeated.

"No wonder he's in such a shitty mood today." I mutter under my breath as I scoop dry fruity cereal into my spoon, ready to shove it into my mouth after a sip of warm milk.

"He's lucky that he's unconscious right now," Dad fumes, pushing back his chair as he downs the last of his piping hot coffee with ease, "Otherwise I would have asked him to give a detailed written report of yesterday's events himself. Would have saved me a night full of paperwork."

"Yes, definitely unconscious." I cough under my breath, before asking aloud, "Dad, have you informed the school that the two of us will not be able to attend for the next couple of days?"

"Yes." he grunts, nodding stiffly as he rinses his cup and keeps the tumbler of coffee powderback into the overhead cabinet, "I need to report back to the office in the afternoon. I'll be back in about an hour. Do not let that boy out of your eyes. You'll be looking forward to extra miles of running in the sand otherwise."

"Yes, Sir." I nod, trying my best not to sound uninterested as I wash down the last of my milk and stuff my mouth with cereal. This is like the millionth time he's told me to keep a stern eye on Nathaniel this morning and I can't wait to get back upstairs.

I have so much to ponder over and so many questions still unanswered.

"You must rest now," Dad turns around as he's leaving, his eyes softening a little, "I expect you to go to The Glade as usual in the evening. A day off from school does not imply a day off from training."

"Noted."

The moment he steps out of the kitchen, I hastily rinse my milk mug and cereal bowl before darting up to my room and fastening the door behind me.