Slate | ✓

EIGHTEEN | ATHENA

Victor has some kind of dust collecting behind his ear, which I can see as he leans forward on his chair. It matches the dirt on his construction boots. "I understand," he replies, clearly uncomfortable. "The, uh, student that Athena hurt, will she be alright?"

I roll my eyes.

"She's a little shaken, sure, but nothing too bad." Ms. Chun nods. "Athena went for the hair."

Victor leans back. "Oh."

Ms. Chun clears her throat. "Not to subtract from the problem at hand, but are you aware that your son has not attended any classes today?"

Victor scratches his beard, a nervous tick. "No, I, uh, was not aware."

Something flashes across her face before she carries on, as if this is the answer she was expecting. "I'll be direct here. You're a little difficult to get a hold of, sir. I was hoping that we could schedule a meeting between the two of us and Will so we can discuss his options. Is there a way I can reliably contact you?"

I watch as he flounders for a moment. His mouth opens and closes. Eventually, he nods. "Yes, I think that would be appropriate." He shifts in his seat to pull his wallet from his jeans and hands her a yellowed business card. "That's my work number."

Ms. Chun slots the card in the corner of her computer screen. "I do think time is a factor here, so the sooner the better, and preferably before the end of this week. After what happened on Monday—"

"Can I ask a question?" I interrupt, already imagining the way Victor's face will drop when she finishes her sentence. Chun shoots me a look of contempt, which I take as motivation to continue. "I've just been suspended, right? Why are we still only talking about Will? If I'm the one with such a serious attitude problem, where's my session with the school shrink?" I make my voice as cold as possible.

Victor looks like he wants to apologize. Ms. Chun rearranges her face into a tight-lipped smile. "School counseling is available to all students who wish to make an appointment." She sounds as if she's reading from a manual.

"Great," I stand from my chair. "I'll think about doing that then. Is there something he has to sign or whatever?"

"Athena—" Victor warns through gritted teeth.

"What?" I say. "I just got into a fight. Maybe I'm a little shaken, too. Maybe this is a toxic environment and I want to go home to think about what I've done."

"I'm sorry," Victor says as he also stands from his chair and shakes his head. "I don't know why she's acting like a child."

The anger flares again, but this time, instead of hitting anyone, I feel dangerously close to crying. The burning sensation in my eyes only further fuels the feeling. I cross my arms and clench my molars in an attempt to alleviate the weight in my chest, begging myself to remain composed as Victor finishes the paperwork.

Victor waits until we're in the car. His hands curl on the steering wheel. I stare out the window and feel increasingly like looking at him might cause me to explode. Whether in tears or rage, I don't know. Probably both.

After a long stretch of silence, Victor sighs, "Athena." His voice is soft, like he's talking to a wounded animal. "What's this about? Is it true what that woman said? Are you being bullied?"

I snort. "People are just assholes, I wouldn't call it bullying." I realize how ridiculous we must look from the outside as I've turned almost completely away from him, even as the seatbelt winds around my torso. "Nothing that I can't handle."

"Is your version of handling it jumping someone in the hallway?"

I roll my eyes. "It wasn't even like that."

"You don't even know if that girl was the one who did it—"

"She was the one who I called a cunt," I say. "Obviously it was her. That was the work of a small, small brain."

Victor groans and presses his forehead against the steering wheel. "And what would you call attacking someone for no reason? This won't look good on your school record—"

"You think I don't know that?" I yell, allowing myself to direct all the venom brewing in my chest towards him.

He falls silent again, as if giving the atmosphere time to deflate. "Look, I know I'm not the most hands-on parent," he says, "and I'm starting to think that's a mistake. I'm worried."

I twist around to look at him for the first time. "You're worried? What? Do you want a medal or something?"

"I know you're frustrated—"

"Frustrated?" I repeat, feeling as if some internal pressure in my brain is reaching a boiling point. "I'm not frustrated at all. I'm perfectly fine! We're all perfectly fine. John, Will, Charlie, me, Henry— we're all great. It's you with the problem. You can't even keep your family together. Do you even know where Will is right now?" I've crossed a line, but I don't think I care.

"Athena—" His voice is low in warning. 

"Will is barely functioning, and you don't even know where he is!" I'm properly yelling now, and it feels fucking good. "You've seen him, you're not blind, and still you brought Charlie back. Charlie!"

"Shut up!" He lashes out.

"No!" I spew right back. "What? You don't want to talk about it? You won't talk about Mom. Do you want to do the same to Will? Would that be easier for you? You wanted Charlie back, well now you've got everything that comes with him. I'm sorry, Dad, is it too much for you?"

A muscle ticks in his clenched jaw. I can't help but think he looks just like John when he's angry. "Expulsion, Athena?" His voice is deadly calm. "Are you trying to end up like him? Is that what you want?"

"Maybe it doesn't matter what I want. Maybe it's all just a testament to your fucking parenting skills. You make everyone miserable, and you're so selfish." I take deep, panting breaths. "I don't want to ever be like you."

Victor disengages. I'm surprised it took him this long. He stares forward through the window as I try to calm myself down, but every time I think I've swallowed the emotion something else comes rising back up. I look at my father's hands. His swollen joints stack onto each other, grotesquely misshapen and ugly.

"I never thought about it." My throat burns. "The violence it takes to hurt a little kid like that... and then to fucking leave, to just not turn back." My shoulders are shaking. "How do you do that to another person? How do you do that to your little brother?"

Victor still doesn't look at me. Instead, he shifts the car into drive. I don't expect anything more from him, but then, quietly, as if he's telling me a secret, Victor speaks: "Charlie broke my heart."

The whole car ride home, I realize that my brother was right about one thing: sometimes there's nothing worse than silence.