Met a Boy at Seventeen (Kellic)

Chapter 17

Chapter 17 - Vic - How Long Can We Keep This Up?

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of our house?”

Kellin and I pull away from each other. I want to say something, but I’m frozen, so Kellin speaks for me: “No. You told me to get out of your house. You didn’t specify that I had to stay out.”

This might not be the best time for your logic, Kells.

"Well, I’m specifying now." Dad steps forward, his fists clenched. "Get out and stay out.”

Kellin stands up. “Okay, okay. I’m guessing there’s no way to prove to you that I’m not any sort of bad influence and that I really should be allowed to make out with your son as much as I please. Am I right?”

"What I’m seeing right now already gives me all the proof I need," Dad says, in that tone of voice that lets everyone know his mind is made up. "You can’t follow any kind of instructions. You deliberately disobey every order that’s been given to you."

Kellin slowly backs up to the window. “Excuse me, but you told me to leave. Look. This is me. Leaving. Following your instructions.” His gaze shifts to me, still sitting on the bed. “Bye, Vic.” Then, just like last time, he simply opens the window and casually hops out of it, as if this happens on a regular basis.

Dad turns to me, fists still clenched. I’m not too nervous about those clenched fists—the words they throw at me may sting, but in all my life, neither of my parents have ever used physical force on me or Mike. I never thought of that fact as being subject to change.

But it seems I’m wrong, because then Dad strikes my face in an open-handed slap. I let out a small whimper, then clap my hand over my mouth. I can’t show pain, not to anyone.

"I’m sorry," Dad says emotionlessly. "I never wanted to hurt you. But you gave me no other choice."

But, see, you’ve already hurt me plenty of times. Your words hurt. I don’t tell him that, though. It doesn’t matter.

"I don’t give a shit if you’re gay," Dad continues, "but you will not be hanging around with the likes of that.” He nods to the window.

I try to tell myself, He’s just being overprotective. He just thinks Kellin’s bad for me and wants to keep me safe. But, really, I stopped deluding myself with these kinds of thoughts long ago.

Then Dad asks, “Were you with him last night?”

I expected an immediate confrontation as soon as I got home from school today, but it didn’t come. I guess he was waiting until later. Surely he knows about the wrecked car.

"Because last night I heard Mike sneak out when he thought I was asleep," he says. "And I checked your room, and you weren’t there. I called Mike, but he wouldn’t pick up, and a few hours later, he came home and told me about the car crash. I thought you might’ve been with him, but you weren’t. So tell me: Why did Mike drive when he isn’t even allowed to? Why did he sneak out? Why did he crash?"

These types of questions I always get right. “Because I wasn’t there to stop him?”

"Exactly. And why weren’t you there? Why weren’t you even here?”

I sigh. “Because I happened to be elsewhere at that particular point in time.” I think Kellin’s starting to rub off on me.

Dad raises his eyebrow at me, as if to say, And…?

"Elsewhere with Kellin," I add in defeat.

He nods. “And now your car is wrecked, and your brother almost died.”