Page 2 of Dating After the End of the World
“I don’t wanna do this anymore,” I say, jerking away.
“Why not?”
“Because I wanna be normal.”
“Who says we’re not normal?” Dad cracks a small smile.
I pull a piece of skin from an open blister on my dirty, inflamed hand and flick it into the grass.
“The kids at school.” I briefly look up at him. “They say you’re a freak and a kook who wears a tinfoil hat.”
“Well, I don’t care what people say about me, Case, so I wouldn’t let it bother you.” He ruffles my hair.
I smack his hand away. “They say I’m a weirdo too! They call me Crazy Pearson.” A tear breaks past my lower lashes, spilling out. “And they filled my locker with canned goods yesterday.”
Dad’s brows shove together with concern. “What? When did this all start?”
“Two weeks ago. We had to write a short paper on what we did over the summer and present it to the class. I wrote about all the work we did, the trench we dug for fresh water, the bunker excavation, the gardening, combat training, installing solar panels, everything. And now ... all they do is make fun of me, except Tessa. She’s my only friend.”
Dad’s arms engulf me as he pulls me in for a tight hug, my face smushing against his brawny chest. I want to shove him away, but I need the embrace more than I need to be obstinate in this moment.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t realize you were having such a hard time at school.”
“I wasn’t. Everything was fine until stupid Blake came along ...” The words come out muffled, and the strength I was trying to display fades away. I sob, unable to speak.
“Who’s Blake?” he asks, rubbing my back to comfort me.
“A new boy at my school.” I pull away and meet his gaze. “He’s the one that got everyone to make fun of me.”
Dad arches a brow. “That’s probably because he likes you. Boys always pick on the girls they like.”
I scrunch up my face. “Well, I don’t like him at all. He’s an asshole.”
“Casey!” Dad warns, but he’s unable to hide the small, amused smile on his face.
“Sorry ... but he is, though.”
“I don’t doubt that. Do you want me to talk to his parents?”
“No, Dad. Then I’ll be a freak and a tattletale. It’ll be way worse.”
“Okay, do you want me to scare him, maybe rough him up a little?” He pretends to box with closed fists.
“Dad, no!” I say, slapping his hands.
He puts his punching paws away and chuckles. “Then what would you like me to do, Case?”
“Nothing,” I huff. “I’ll just ... I’ll just ignore him.”
Dad pats me on the shoulder. “I think that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”
“But I’m gonna picture Blake’s stupid face every time I spike that shovel into the dirt,” I say with a firm nod as I wipe away the tears with the back of my hand.
“And every time you hit the boxing bag too.”
“And every time I wield my throwing stars.”
Dad grins. “And when the world ends, we won’t let Blake in here.”
