The Space Before (The Space Between Heartbeats #0.5) by Melissa Pearl

Author:Melissa Pearl [Pearl, Melissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B00F9UJUXO
Published: 2013-09-16T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Well, my day officially sucked. Yes, even taking into account the awesome sex on the hood of a Camaro. Principal Timmons dragged me into his office and read me the riot act. My grades are poor. I’m skipping school. I constantly look exhausted. He went on about his concerns with substance abuse. I tried to tell him I wasn't on anything, but I don't know whether he believed me or not.

He then went one step further and, on the spot, called my dad. I sat in huffing silence until twenty minutes later, when my somber father slinked through the door.

I was expecting some major anger vibes, but instead I got waves of sad disappointment, which are so much worse.

After a brief discussion with the principal, I was sent back to class and told I’d better be home straight after school. It was impossible to concentrate for the rest of the day. I spotted Jasmine last period, and she couldn't even look at me.

I'm now walking up the path to my front door; the urge to turn and run is strong. I don't want to face my parents right now. I don't want another lecture, and I really don't want to be sent to live with my great-grandparents.

I walk in to find Mom and Dad sitting at the dining table. Mom's been crying. Dad is holding her hand, his expression grave.

"Sit down, son."

I drop my bag to the floor and reluctantly head for the chair furthest from them. I go for my silent stare, which I know unnerves my mother. It works, and her gaze flutters to the tabletop.

Dad presses his lips together then lets out a tired huff. "This isn't good enough, Dale. We raised you better than this."

I roll my eyes and glare at the ceiling.

"You look at me when I'm talking to you." Dad's anger makes me grit my teeth. Here we go again. I take my time swallowing and very slowly drag my gaze towards him. The disappointment is not so strong. Now he just looks plain pissed...much easier to deal with. I smirk.

Dad's eyebrows dip together, making his forehead crinkle out of shape.

"What am I supposed to do with you? Do you know how people will be talking now? My own son is throwing his life away. How do you think that makes me look?"

Really? That's what he's going with? How it looks?

Anger sparks inside me as I sit up straight and clear my throat.

"I don't give a shit about how it makes you look." My voice comes out thin and strained. Shaking my head, I can feel the bottle top starting to rattle. I usually take these lectures in morose silence, but not today. It's been so heinous I might as well finish it off by lumping steamy piles of dog turd over it, as well. And after what I found out last night, they can screw their appearance; I'm not putting up with this shit anymore. "That's all you guys care about, isn't it? What people are going to say and think? To hell with them.

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