That Night

Chapter Ten

"Dash, I don't understand what's going on. Why are you doing this again?"

My mom stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, clearly irritated that I had once again littered the dining room with art supplies. It was Saturday morning, and I was desperately trying to recreate the History poster Harrison had destroyed.

"I don't want to talk about it," I grumbled without looking up.

She walked over to me and slammed her hand down on the table, so I had to stop working. Moments like this proved to me that I truly was my mother's son.

"Dash, tell me what's going on," she demanded. "You obsessed over this project all week, but then it was done, and you were actually excited to present it. Then you came home yesterday in a bad mood again. I can tell something is bothering you, and I'm sorry, but I'm not going to put up with your pouting anymore. Just tell me what happened."

Stunned, I stared up at her. The past week, she had been so patient and helpful, but now she was over it. I had to suck it up and finally tell her the truth. What part of the truth it would be, I wasn't sure.

"My poster got ruined," I told her through gritted teeth. "I have to redo it by Monday."

My eyes dropped to the table as I prayed she would accept my vague explanation. There was a long pause as she stared at me, sorting it out in her head.

"How did it get ruined?" she asked to my dismay.

"Someone ripped it in half," I said. I really didn't want to explain the whole story, so I figured I would give her piece by piece until she gave up.

"What?" she asked, sounding angry. Mom sat down in the chair next to me.

"It's fine, Mom," I said unconvincingly.

"No, it's not fine, Dash," she replied. "Who did it?"

I shook my head.

"Dash, tell me."

"Harrison," I conceded. "It was Harrison."

Silence fell over the room. I thought she might explode with anger. She never liked Harrison, ever since we were young. Since the punch in October, she had urged me more than once to stay away from him. Now, it seemed that this was the last straw.

My mom rose from the table without a word and left the room. Her silence made me nervous. I hesitantly stood up and followed her into the kitchen. She was standing at the counter furiously typing on her laptop keyboard. Looking over her should, I saw that she was writing an email to both Harrison's parents and the principal.

"Mom, stop," I yelled. If she got involved, it would only make everything worse.

"Dash, please, I can't let this go on any longer," she replied, matching my volume.

"It's not your problem. I can handle this myself, just stay out of it," I shouted back, trying to grab her laptop.

"This has been going on for months, Dash. You clearly haven't handled it."

She turned away from the computer, red-faced and fists clenched. I backed up a few steps and tried to settle down. Anytime I got this angry, I felt the need to break something. But I had to cool it to keep from saying or doing something to my mother that I would definitely regret.

"What's going on in here?"

I whipped around at the sound of my father's voice. He rarely emerged from his office when he was home, which was rare even on a Saturday.