Page 36 of Greased

He nods his head as he processes my words.

“Okay, I can do that.” He smiles down at me as his anger slowly dissipates. “Right, well now that’s settled, get up,” he says, grabbing my arms and trying to pull me up. He lets me go and I flop back down onto my bed. “You now have 20 minutes before we need to leave.”

“You could have started with that, you know,” I retort, throwing a pillow at his retreating back.

I rush around my room quickly throwing on what according to my father is required by Rydell Prep to wear. The vision of the American high school with lockers, a cafeteria and the freedom to wear what you like quickly diminishes before my eyes. Instead of ripped jeans and a band tee, I have to settle for a white collared blouse and a black and white tartan pleated skirt, then finishing off the look with a black blazer; the school’s emblem on the left pocket.

I think the provided shoes might just be the bane of my existence: chunkyheeledMary Janes. I don’t know what kind of misogynistic fuck decided heels were appropriate for school girls but I would gladly shove the heel up their ass. Give me flats any day of the week. Atleast the school got one thing right with the colours. None of that horrendous green some of those poor kids are forced into wearing.

I part my hair down the middle and braid both sides, really embracing that school girl look. Throwing on a quick but simple amount of makeup, I grab my bag and race down the stairs.

Mum, Dad and Rhodes are all sitting in the kitchen when I wander in.

“I need coffee. Pronto,” I grunt.

“Here you go madame. One full strength cappuccino, two sugars just the way you like,” Rhodes says, passing me a cup of liquid gold. I smirk at his ridiculous attempt at a posh English accent.

“I knew I loved you for a reason.” I say, thanking him anyways.

“Are you ready for your first day, Scar?” My father queries while looking nothing like the president of the Thunderbirds that he is meant to be. He looks like he just rolled out of bed with his hair in a mess on his head. A pair of glasses sit low on his nose while he holds a newspaper in his hands. He is still wearing his pyjamas, something I wish I could be doing instead of wearing my uniform. His trackies are a navy blue while his shirt makes me snort. It's old and looks like it's been worn a million times but reads, ‘I keep all of my Dad jokes in a Dad-a-base.’

Over the last few weeks, I’ve come to learn that the seemingly scary president of the Thunderbirds is actually just a typical Dad at heart. I have heard enough ridiculous Dad jokes to last me a last time. It seems his version of humour isn’t limited to just verbal. While I am slowly warming up to the idea of him, it's hard to just let go of the grudge I’m holding so tightly tomy chest.

“I think so. Dacre said he would be picking me up this morning for my first day.”

My father just grunts in reply.

“What?” I question as I take a sip of my coffee.

“I’m not fucking happy with those boys, Scar.”

“You and me both,” I grunt. No matter how excited I feel that I don’t have to put out a missing person’s report or do some wicked social media stalking just to find them, what the boys did just can’t be forgotten that easily. No matter how much I wish it could. How much easier it would be. But that anger? It won’t dissipate. Nor will I let it. I need an explanation, a good one at that.

“Rhodes gave me the long story short as well as a couple of the senior members that were hanging around Pinks’. No one on this fucking planet will dare hurt my baby girl again and those little fucking boys are going to learn that the hard way.”

I sigh a breath, lifting up my cup of coffee before draining a bit more of it, “I understand that, and I agree. I won’t be forgiving them quickly. But in saying that, Dacre at least made an effort to explain a little. There are still a lot of gaps missing and they will be getting their balls busted. I won’t just forgive and forget.”

He chuckles, putting down his newspaper and taking his glasses off. He looks up at me with a massive smile on his face. “That’s my girl.”

A knock sounds at the door and as Rhodes goes to answer it. I quickly down my coffee and grab a granola bar from the pantry knowing I will need some form of sustenance. Thanks to my darling brother and his need to gossip so early in the morning, anything more than a grab and go just isn’t achievable.

“Well,when you speak of the devil, he shall appear,” Rhodes snarls, walking in with a Dacre that has a slightly concerned look on his face.

He looks straight at my father, greeting him first. “Morning Prez.”

It's obvious just how much respect Dacre has for him. He gives him a small nod in greeting but stays silent. There’s a deadly look in his eyes and for the first time, the stories that Rhodes has told me finally make sense. If a lesser man was on the end of that glare, I am sure they would piss themselves. The saying ‘If looks could kill’ is somewhat accurate in this instance. Because that is exactly what he looks like now. Ready to kill someone.Lord give me strength.

Dacre quickly turns his head towards Mum.

“Mrs Crux. It's so good to see you again.”

“Thank you, Dear. You’ve grown into such a handsome young man. How is Shelly?” Mum asks.

“She is great. She is over the moon that you and Scarlett are alive and here. She couldn’t shut up last night when I got home.” He smiles that devastating smile of his. Fuck, it's going to be hard to stay mad at them but I know my resolve won’t fail.

“I’ll go down to Pinks’ and see her. It's been hard not having her all of these years.” Mum turns to me as she nods towards Dacre, a smile on her face. “Dacre’s Mum, Shelly, and I were inseparable from the day we met each other.” Her smile drops and a haunted look overcomes her face as she takes a deep breath. “We were caged side by side. If it wasn’t for her strength, I wouldn’t have gotten through it.”

Dacre nods, looking solemn.

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