In Between the Lines

Chapter 5: The Dragon, the Princess, and the Kiss

"I haven't. I swear."

I was just being a paranoid freak.

His shoulders relaxed beneath his sweater. "Then what's bothering you?"

"It's nothing." I was tempted to change the subject. I couldn't admit to him that it was actually a boy—a boy that was bothering me. But . . . this was my best friend.

And I didn't lie to my best friend.

"There's this boy at school," I started, dragging a hand over my face. "Okay, I totally didn't mean for that to sound all dramatic and cliché and stupid."

"Tell me about him," my father encouraged, his expression genuine—free of judgment. "What's his name?"

"I don't want to say his name. Can we just call him the devil?"

My father's laugh chimed in the breeze. "Alright, I'll play along. How did the devil earn this title?"

"We'll, long story short, he wanted to be friends—and completely out of nowhere, by the way. One day he had no idea who I was and the next, he'd already given me a nickname. He calls me Peacock. I mean, what kind of nickname is that? Peacocks are male! If anything, he should have called me Peahen—"

"So, he likes you?"

I laughed bitterly. Liked? Probably not. Wanted to sleep with me like he had with just about every other girl at school? Most likely. But I wasn't going to tell my father that.

"Maybe he did like me in the beginning," I admitted, "Maybe that's why he bothered to talk to me in the first place. But he hates me now. I haven't been very nice to him."

My father gestured for me to go on. So I told him about my earlier conversation with Dez. I left out the parts about seeing the shadow and Dez following me into the woods after my freak-out, but I told him about what Reed had seen after school and Dez's reaction when I confronted him about it.

After listening intently to the entirety of the story, my father said, "Is this devil known for being a bully? You seem surprised that he'd do something like that."

"I don't think so, at least not from what I've seen. That's why it made me so mad." 

My father looked out to the ocean as he pursed his lips.

"What?"

"This boy Jeremy, do you know him well?"

"Not really. Just from class." I shrugged. "He's quiet, gets good grades, and completely harmless from what I've seen." 

He nodded but didn't say anything else.

I bit my lip. "What is it?"

My father angled his head towards me as he exhaled. "I'm not defending the devil, but if this is out of the ordinary for him and he's claiming the other boy deserved it, then have you considered why? There has to be a reason why he would act out that way."

"But—"

"I'm not condoning his actions in the slightest. Bullying is never the answer, for anything. What he did was wrong and absolutely inexcusable, but if he's acting out of character and lashing out, then maybe Jeremy wronged him in some way. Did you ask him for his side of the story?"

I sighed. "I didn't really give him the chance to explain, and anyway, even if he hadn't done that to Jeremy, I'm not interested in being his friend."

"Is that so?"

"He's arrogant and completely full of himself. I don't like him, Dad. Not one bit."

So why did the words feel like branding irons on my tongue?