No Strings Attached

Chapter 11

Daytime television sucks, I groaned internally, but I stayed there anyway.

When I finally could not stand the crappiness that is daytime basic cable, I got a book and read until Dad came home at around 6.

"You would not believe the day I had!" he exclaimed as he came through the door.

"Can't be as weird as mine," I bet him.

"Oh, right, you came home early," he thought out loud. "How are you? Were you sick? Have you thrown up? Do you have a fever?"

"No, Dad. I'm fine. I just apparently had a panic attack in the middle of the school hallway, and then my chemistry lab partner brought me to the nurse. Then they told me I probably had social anxiety."

"That doesn't sound 'fine' to me. Who is your lab partner? Is she nice?"

"It's a he. His name is Logan."

His face stiffened. "A boy," he said, "took you to the office?"

"No, I was unconscious so he carried me," I said just to aggravate him and watched my dad's face go from curious dad to I-will-take-a-knife-to-this-boy's-stomach-if-he-touches-my-daughter dad.

"But it's not like that. He was just being nice," I assured him. I think.

"Okay," he said skeptically. Then he went to the kitchen to find some food, probably.

"Want to know what happened at the school today?" he called with his head in the fridge.

"Sure. See if you can beat my story," I challenged. I stood up from the couch and sat on the kitchen counter.

"So there is this kid in my 3pm class who is obviously a druggie," he began. "He is actually pretty bright, but he just...will not devote himself...Anyway, today he showed up for class high. Like, usually he comes to class with the remnants just coming out of his system, but today he was totally out of it. He sits relatively close to the front, and I heard him muttering to himself and occasionally giggling quietly. Then halfway through my lecture he just started screaming. Out of nowhere. But he was pointing at me, with this terrified look on his face. He kept doing that. I went over to his desk to try to make him calm down but he leapt out of his seat and cried, 'Stay away from me!' I told him to go to the restroom to get his sorts together; meanwhile the rest of the class was laughing hysterically. But he kept backing away from me and yelling at me. He even chucked a girl's book at my face. Finally, he sprinted for the door and hopefully went to the bathroom to puke up the stuff he'd been consuming. I really think he did crack and then had a beer. He was insane."

I waited a moment to reply so I could soak that in. "Okay," I said. "You win."

He tossed me an apple. "I know."

I bit into it and hopped down from the counter. "Is this my dinner, I guess?"

"Hey, in this household, if you don't make the food, it's 'catch as catch can,' because I cannot make toast," Dad sassed. I had—fortunately for me—gotten my mom's cooking talent. My dad would poison us both if he tried to prepare anything more ambitious than a bowl of cereal and store-bought fruit.

"Fine," I retorted. "I'll just make some of my apple dip and do my homework."

"Oh, yes, that's so good," he fantasized.

I nodded my head and turned around. I had a special recipe specifically for fruit dip with brown sugar and cream cheese and a bit of whipping. Five minutes later I exited the kitchen with my single serving of apple dip with apple slices on a plate.

I walked past my dad towards my room. "Catch as catch can," I mocked him, then left without any of my food.

"Wait a minute..." he protested.

"Nope!" I called and shut my door to start my homework.

--

One hour and one essay later, I had finished my apples and was getting tired. I went to join my dad on the couch to watch whatever he was so engrossed in, but the clamor from upstairs stopped me.

Oh, God, Logan! I thought frantically. I ran out of the apartment in bare feet, my dad calling behind me, asking where I was going. I pulled my phone out as I went up the stairs two at a time and clicked on Logan's contact and pressed the call button. It seemed to ring forever. Pick up, Logan, pick up, I got to his door and decided not to knock. I just paced back and forth in front of it, anxiously waiting for him to answer his goddamn phone.

Bang!

It came from inside his apartment.

Crash!

I was starting to worry. Why wasn't he answering?

"Hey, it's Logan," I finally heard from his phone.

"Oh, my God, Logan," I sighed in relief.

"Sorry I couldn't pick up the phone..." Voicemail. It was his Voicemail. I hung up and tried calling again. Meanwhile I could still here noises inside. Tears formed in my eyes.

Please be okay, I demanded internally. Just be okay.