Page 25 of Single Chance

Neither of us said anything for the rest of the short drive home. I was chewing over what my next move should be.

Once I’d parked in the garage and killed the engine, Sam shot out of the vehicle and stormed inside.

I sat there by the dim light of the garage door opener, biting the side of my mouth in frustration, wishing for a book with a list of effective parenting tips to fall into my lap.

When the light went off automatically and left me in the dark, I swore a blue streak under my breath and headed inside.

The kitchen hadn’t been cleaned yet. Of course it hadn’t. She’d had a beach party to sneak out to. But dirty pans were the least of my problems.

I strode down the stairs to her room.

Sam sat against her headboard, her phone cradled on her legs, attention fully on the screen. Her jaw was set in anger. So was mine.

I breathed in deeply and leaned against the wall, studying my daughter.

Puberty was a bitch. I knew friendships were tough to navigate, probably even more so for girls than boys. Add a new town and high school to the mix…

Damn, did I miss my little girl.

She’d never had an overload of friends back in Missouri, but the ones she’d had were good kids. She’d gotten excellent grades and liked learning. Where had we gone so wrong? Was this all because I’d moved her to a new town?

Tempering my tone, I asked, “What are you doing, Sam?”

Her gaze popped up to me for just an instant, as if the validity of the question got through to her. Sam was smart, so fucking smart, but lately she hadn’t been acting like it, in the classroomor out. For that second, though, it was as if I reached the girl with the above-average brain.

Just as quickly, she shuttered her expression as if I were speaking a foreign language.

“I know how important friends are in high school, but Sam, these friends keep getting you in trouble. Is that what you want for yourself?”

She sat there, sullen and silent.

“Do you wait for me to leave so you can immediately break the rules and do exactly what I’ve told you a hundred times not to do? We don’t have a long list of rules, Sam. I’m not being unreasonable by requiring you to get permission before leaving the house.”

“You wouldn’t let me go if I asked.”

“Not to stand on the beach and drink,” I said. “You’re absolutely right. These girls… They don’t seem like a very good choice in friends. You’re smarter than this.”

“Friends aren’t about being smart,” she snapped.

I stared at her, confused. “Do you look up to these people? You admire that they sneak out and get drunk? What is it that draws you to this group?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said with venom in her voice. “I’m apparently not their friend anymore anyway.” She indicated her phone and tossed it to the mattress. “They hate me thanks to you calling the cops.”

“I didn’t call the cops, Sam. You were right there with me.”

“Well, someone did. They showed up right after we left, and now they think I’m a tattletale.”

As much as I didn’t approve of these kids, I hated that my daughter was hurting. I’d be ecstatic if she found someone new to be friends with.

“The police likely did a drive-by and saw them,” I told her. “I didn’t call anyone besides Lacey’s mom.”

“That doesn’t really matter if they think I’m the nark.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek, and I ached to pull her to me and hug away her sadness. Being a dad of a teen was a roller coaster ride that might well kill me before it was over.

Knowing she’d rebuke any attempt by me to comfort her, I stayed where I was, crossing my arms against the urge.

“I’m damn glad you were gone before the police arrived, but I’m sorry your friends are mad at you,” I said.

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