Page 79 of More Than Chemical
The other part of me wanted to run. As far away as I could get. But there was one thing I knew with certainty.
“I can’t sit there, Dad.” Tears brimmed in the corners of my eyes, and I fought them. “I can’t sit there during your trial. And you know exactly why.”
“Okay.” He nodded and kept nodding. “I understand.”
I exited the building and jogged to the Uber, opened the door and collapsed into the back seat. Only then did I let the tears slide down my face.
I couldn’t go to the trial, because it would mean publicly admitting who I was. That I was Coach Bianchini’s daughter. And that I wouldn’t do.
Twenty-Eight
Dad Issues Continued
Iwiped my cheeks with the back of my hand. All I wanted was to go back to my dorm room and bury myself in my bed. Pull the covers over my head until the trial was over. Until my father’s fate was decided.
But of course, driving to my dorm meant having to pass the building where my class would be held. And I knew I couldn’t afford to miss it. Not with the current state of my grades. I was early, but I stopped the Uber, went into the building and kerplunked myself into a desk far away from where I usually sat.
I probably should have pulled out my books and used the extra wait time to get in some studying, but I didn’t. I sat there in a daze, staring straight ahead, shrinking inside myself.
The scrape of metal against vinyl tiles pulled me out of my stupor. A tall body moved the desk with its attached chair closer to me and sat.
“Why are you sitting over here?” It was Jay. He shimmied out of his jacket.
He sat back, and I eyed him. I wondered what it would be like to be him. To have a normal family, one without constant drama.
Better than being me. Way better.
“I’m sitting here because I need a change,” I said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrugged because honestly I didn’t know what it meant either.
“Your advice, by the way…” I leaned over and unzipped my backpack. “It was terrible.”
“What advice?”
“The one where you told me to go see my dad.”
His brows furrowed. “That was good advice.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I took out my notebook. “Get this. My dad brought me to meet his lawyer.”
“Interesting.” Jay slid backward.
“And guess what? The lawyer proceeded to ask me to be an exhibit at the trial next week.” I paused and looked Jay in the eye.
“An exhibit?”
“Sit in the audience behind my dad, day in and day out. I’d be a prop in a theatrical performance. I wouldn’t have to say anything, I’d only have to smile and look empathetic.”
“Well, aren’t you going to go to the trial anyway?”
“Nooooo.” I held the vowel for longer than I should. “I’ve never planned on being anywhere close to that courtroom.”
The classroom was filling up. The TA had come in and was taking questions at the front.
Jay reached into his backpack and began pulling out materials. “Here.” He flopped stapled pages onto my desktop. “I found some old tests and printed them for you.”
