Chapter 6

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Around 10:30, I heard Chantelle's car roll in. Dad slammed the front door a half second later. I inched my bedroom window open.

"Hi. Chantelle," I heard my dad say.

"Hey, Don, how's it going?" she said. I peeked out the window where I could see her grabbing her piles of photography gear out of the trunk. "Are you headed to work?"

"Yeah, I'm off, but hey, I'm really sorry about Matt. He was very close to the woman who lived in your house before you moved in, and I'm a little concerned he's trying to replace her with you."

"Honestly, Don, I think he's just lonely. I know what it feels like, my whole family is back in Quebec, and I'm here. And I'm not sure it's my place to say anything, but he was really upset you didn't make it to his game today, he seemed really hurt."

"It was nice of you to go, but you really don't have to do that," I heard my dad say in a cool voice. He was angry. "I'd prefer if you don't get too close to him, I don't want him getting too attached."

"I'm sorry, I'll stay out of it. Have a nice night," she said, closing the trunk of her car quietly. Dad's truck engine rumbled to life and I watched the tail lights disappear down our block. For fuck sakes, why the fuck does he have to mess up everything I try to do?

For the first time in years, I can't even remember how long, I cried myself to sleep. Hot tears burned my face and sobs choked my throat.

I didn't tell any of my friends the next day at school what had happened. That slut Sam was kissing my ass, she kept texting me, so I blocked her number. She must've figured it out because there was some stupid note in my locker written in pink pen with a heart on it. I watched as it fell to the floor when I unlocked the door. I didn't pick it up.

After school, I rode the city bus in silence on the way to work. I loved sharpening skates, I liked the blade to go from dull to sharp, it was like making it new again. Minor hockey was starting all over the city, my team had our first game Friday night. Dad would be off midnights by then so maybe he'd come to my game? I decided to forget about it entirely. I'm not even going to tell him when it is. Fuck that. Chris's dad will pick me up before the game and drive me home after. No dad needed, I thought to myself succinctly.

Dad picked me up after work. I wasn't really expecting him, I didn't even think he knew I worked today. But there he was sitting in his truck, waiting for me when I locked up at the end of the night.

"Hi, son," he said as I got into the cab and threw my backpack on the floor. It had been a slow night at the shop and I had managed to squeeze my homework in between sharpening skates, sweeping and tidying the stick display.

"Hi, pops," I said, pulling my headphones out of my bag.

"We need to talk," he said. I didn't acknowledge him. I pictured lying on a beach somewhere with a pina colada with a tiny umbrella in it, Chan's big round ass in some leopard print bikini with her tits all held together with one of those little string tops. I smirked a little to myself as my fantasy Chan asked me to rub sunscreen on her back. I straddled her ass, cock perfectly teasing her pussy through her swimsuit, massaging the coconut scented cream into her skin. She moaned and put the slightest tilt to her ass to get nearer to the action. Ha, I thought. I could just untie those little strings on your bottoms and fuck the shit out of you right here on the beach.

"Matt," my dad said, startling me from my daydream.

"What, dad," I said, annoyed.

"I'm sorry I didn't make it to your game yesterday," he said after a long silence.

"Whatever," I said in an exasperated tone. "I don't care. You never make it to my games, yesterday's was no different."

"I want you to leave Chantelle alone," he responded. I had been waiting for it to come, because of course he didn't know I was listening last night. But it still cut even deeper than I thought it would, given I was expecting it.

"It's none of your business," I said coldly.

"Actually, I'm your dad and it IS my business, and I don't want you over there, I don't want you inviting her over to our house, inviting her to your games or getting her to feel sorry for you. She's a nice girl, but it's not appropriate for you to be following her around all the time. Don't think I don't see how you look at her." Fuck.

"She's nice, dad, that's IT. She offered to come to my game, so I told her when and where it was. That's all."

"She's a grown woman, she's not going to have time for your high school bullshit. And what are you going to do when she gets a boyfriend and doesn't have time for you anymore." I felt sick. We pulled in the driveway. I got out and slammed the door.

"Get off my case, I don't need you to fucking lecture me!" I yelled, flinging the door to the house open.

"Don't speak to me that way," my father demanded as he chased after me up the stairs.

"Why don't you go get ready for work?" I asked him. "You're a lot better at being a cop than you are at being a dad." I closed my bedroom door in his face and locked it. "FUCK." I threw last night's empty coffee mug at the door, shattering it.

I still had another hour before my dad left for work. I turned on my computer, started creeping Facebook. Inbox message from Sam.

"Hey, did you get my note I left in your locker? I kinda saw it on the ground after lunch." Delete. Not just the message. Delete her.

Chris messaged me. "Hey Monty, barely heard from you at all today, what's up? We went for a skate tonight while you were at work."

I told him about what happened with my dad and what he said about Chantelle.

"You gotta do something about this,bro," he said. We brainstormed and that's when we came up with the world'smost brilliant idea.

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