Delinquent Camp

Chapter Sixteen

            For a few moments we’re silent before I speak up. “My homecoming is stressing you out?” I whisper, feeling hurt.

            “No,” he says, giving me a sad smile. “It’s not that. It’s Kirsten.”

            Even though it’s wrong, I feel a small part of me grow happy. “What’s going on with you and Kirsten?”

            “Things between us have been…” he pauses, looking for the right word. “Strained.”

            “Is it my fault?”

            He avoids my gaze and pulls out of the driveway. “Partially. But it’s more of Kirsten’s approach to your recovery. She doesn’t think it’s best for you to be here.”

            “In other words,” I reply, “she wants me gone.”

            My father shrugs as I stare at the rain hitting my window. “Trust me when I tell you, Gemma, that I don’t want you gone. I think it’s best for you to be with me. Kirsten doesn’t understand that.”

            The rest of the drive goes by in silence. I think my dad is finally starting to see my side of things and even though I should be happy about that, my mind wanders elsewhere. I don’t want to go back to the place I haven’t been since the accident. I don’t want my dreams to become a reality.

            “It will be okay, Gem,” my dad whispers, grabbing my hand. He gives it a squeeze before pulling over on the side of a deserted road.

            As much as I want his support, I give him a small smile and let go of his hand.

            “I know. I just think this is something I have to face by myself.” He nods as I open the car door and step out into the rain. “Maybe you can go grab us some Starbucks?”

            He nods and I shut the door, leaving myself in the pouring rain. He drives away and thunder sounds in the distance. For whatever reason, he parked about a three minute walk away from the spot, but regardless I’m grateful.                           

            Shoving my hands in my jacket pockets, I make my way down the deserted, foggy street, desperately trying to clear my mind. When I near the place, I can see a figure through the fog, a dark jacket covering their shape. I can tell it’s a a man. Slowly, I come to a stop, wondering what they’re doing.

            I don’t know how long I stand on the side of the road, getting pelted by rain before I realize that they’re here for the same reason I am.  Slowly I approach them, walking through puddles that soak through my shoes.

            The man doesn’t look up as I reach him. Standing beside him, I recognize who he is. For a while, we stand there, staring down at the ground before either of us decides to speak. It’s him first.