The Scar Boys by Len Vlahos

Author:Len Vlahos [Vlahos, Len]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-60684-440-3
Publisher: Egmont Usa
Published: 2014-01-20T16:00:00+00:00

I chose door number three.

Five minutes later my father came back into the kitchen. I was still sitting at the table. I didn’t look up.

“Isn’t that strange,” he said.

“Did they get the check?” I asked.

“Why you cheeky little bastard,” he said. I kept my head down. “You lied about everything, didn’t you?”

No answer from me. I kept my eyes glued to the Formica surface of that kitchen table.

“The school has never heard of you. Not even an application. You’ve been playing this charade for months. For the first time in my life I wish I was a violent man so I could beat the living daylights out of you.” My dad was just getting wound up. When he stumbled into a morally righteous position, all bets were off. His paternal soul gave way to his political mind as he figured out how best to eviscerate me.

I sat there with my head down as my father spewed a rainstorm of abuse on me. I was so wrapped up in my own world, trying to figure a way out, that I only caught sporadic words and phrases from his rant.

“Ingrate.”

“Thankless.”

“We sacrificed everything for you.”

“Toaster.” I looked up at that one, not sure how a toaster figured into what he was saying, but he was so lost in the brilliance of his own argument that he hardly noticed I was still there. It went on and on and on and on.

Then I heard “failure,” and “loser” in rapid succession. He was probably saying something like “I don’t want you to be a failure,” and “Don’t end up as a loser,” but I didn’t hear the context and the words were like a trigger. I’d had enough. It was time to play my one and only card.

“You’re right, Dad,” I interrupted him with an edge. My tone caught his attention and I could see that he was shocked I was talking back. “I guess it’s just what us god damn freaks do, isn’t it.” I met his eyes and held his gaze. Let him stare at my mangled face, I thought. Let him see his son.

My dad knew exactly what I was saying. He was the only person on the planet with a more vivid and more painful memory of that day at the lighthouse than me. He knew this was my golden ticket, that there was nothing he could say. And I knew this wouldn’t work for me more than once. At least my deformities had taught me how to choose my battles.

He started to say something almost a full minute later, but then thought better of it. He flopped down into a chair. And just like that, it was over. I had won.

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