Page 105 of Rebel Summer

“Right here is fine,” I said.

That pulled him briefly out of his facade, a slight crack in his armor, but he quickly righted himself and said, “Good news. I spoke to the judge. I told him about your job and that they needed you back sooner than we thought.”

“How did you know about that?” I broke in.

“I called your department.”

Of course he did.

“Anyway, the judge said he’d give you permission to transfer whatever community service hours you have left here to a business in Nashville.”

I gaped at him. “What about the Lego car?”

My dad rolled his annoyed eyes toward Dax. “I’ll personally pay to have it built.”

“No thanks,” Dax said, his arms folded as he looked at my dad.

“I still owe Dax a lot of hours. That’s not fair to exchange that for something else.”

“Well, I told the judge you’ve been spending plenty of time with him, so I was pretty certain you’d maxed out your hours.”

“You had no right.”

“You’re doing it, Ivy. Pack your bags because your plane leaves on Monday.” He took a step toward me, teeth bared. “I didn’t pay for the last 8 years of college so you could throw it all away for the town mechanic.”

“Dad—“ I began, my body filling with rage.

“No,” my dad said. “You have a career and a life that is nowhere near this island. You are not going to waste it here.” He stepped back toward the door, saying firmly once more, “Three days. Then you’re on a plane to become the professor I paid for you to be.”

The door slammed shut and my week of delusion came to an abrupt end. I had a job waiting for me. People depending on me. And a dad who hated me. He had dropped his bomb and fled the scene so quickly I didn’t have time to yell all the things now circling in my head. How dare he. How dare he. The fact that he was still so much a presence in my life, dictating and controlling, always for his own good, made my fingers itch to fling and smash with rage.

“Your dad seems to think I like you way more than I actually do,” Dax said, watching me carefully.

I couldn’t even find it in me to smile.

“I gotta do some work in the garage.” He lingered, even as he spoke of leaving. His hand played with the towel hanging from his belt. “Listen, you’ve officially served all your hours for me.” He smiled with a sweetness that broke me. “I’ll tell the judge you’re good to go.”

Then he walked into his garage, closing the door between us.

I stood staring at the mess of Legos I’d created. A numbness began to spread over my body, officially killing any sense of loyalty or respect I’d tried to have for the senator in my life. What had it all been for? So I could spend years of my life in therapy and still be stuck in the same endless mind games? Being twenty-eight years old and still never measuring up to his impossible standards? To the standards he holds for everyone but himself.

I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. I wanted to act without thought—without feeling. And suddenly, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. What I needed to do.

I strode toward the door separating his garage from the lobby and flung it open, Dax and I both jumping as it smashed against the wall.

“You’ve got to stop doing th?—“

“Is your car drivable?” My voice came out strong and sure. Because I was sure—about this, anyway. I might not be exactly sure about my immediate future, but I was going to earn my hours from Dax.

However I had to do it.

A slow smile, sweet and reminiscent of something a bit more reckless, crossed his face.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Biology Class

Day 48

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