Page 39 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

I reread my reply two more times to be sure I’m not coming off as creepy or desperate, though I am kind of desperate to hear back from Lett. I tuck my letter in the novel, then place it on the shelf.

Maria is nowhere to be found when I get to the parking lot. I stop beside her car and send a text. She replies with a red face emoji and a wink. My gaze drifts to our school building. The library is behind it. The longer I stand here waiting, the more I am convinced Lett will tear up my letter.

I should go in and retrieve it.

What if he’s someone I hate? I have considered the possibility of it being someone I’m mean to, but what if he has been mean to me? I go out of my way to keep to myself. I only react except provoked, and the regular duo who mess with me have kept their distance. Ben is suspended, and Olivia hardly spares a glance my way. They both have perfect lives. Everyone loves them.

I close my eyes like it will stop the thoughts fighting for attention and rest my head on the hood of Maria’s car. He deserves a reply. It’s the least I owe him after taking his letter. I can move on if he doesn’t reply, knowing I tried my best. But a more significant part of me hopes he replies.

A tap on my hip has me raising my head. I look over my shoulder to see Maria grinning like she didn’t keep me waiting. She taps on her car fob, a beep follows, and I unlock the passenger door.

“What took you so long?” I ask when we are both inside her car.

The sky rumbles, and we both look out the window to the sky. The October air is chilly, and the clouds have been gray all day, but no sign of rain. I fasten my seatbelt and turn on the heater. Maria doesn’t start the car immediately. I bury my face in my palms and sigh. “Look outside.”

“What am I looking at?” I answer, eyes scanning the almost empty lot. She took so long to come out, and now that she’s here, we can’t even leave. Tired, I drum my fingers on the dash. There is nothing of interest because everyone has gone. We should also leave. “Can we just go, Maria?”

Kneeling on her seat, she grabs my face in her hands and tilts my head in the direction of a Benz. A man is leaning against the car with his head bent over his phone. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. I purse my lips, and she eases her grip. He looks familiar, way too familiar.

“Isn’t that your dad?” she murmurs.

I peer at the figure from head to toe. It does look like him. My phone rings. I pull it out, and a smile forms on my lips. “Daddy,” I scream into the receiver. His chuckles tickle my ear, Maria mouths something about a daddy’s girl, and I stick out my tongue. Looking out the window, I watch him take off his glasses to dab his eyes, and my smile expands. “Dad, where are you?”

“In front of your school. Where are you?”

I end the call and dash out of Maria’s car with a shit-eating grin. “Fuck you, Maria, for keeping me waiting. Just kidding.” If we had left, Dad wouldn’t have met me here, but she’s still a mini bitch for keeping me waiting for this long with no explanation. I close the door. “Love you.”

“Don’t forget Nate’s Halloween party,” she screams, but I continue racing to my dad without a backward glance at her. She will survive. “Theresa Grace Mower, I know you heard me. Don’t forget.”

Halloween is in twenty days. I have never understood the fuss, but Nate’s hosting it at his parents’ new house this year. Everyone has been talking about it. Apparently, he hosts the best parties. I haven’t been to any of his parties, so I can’t confirm or deny it. But it’s all I ever hear in the toilet and drama club. Speaking of the drama club, I should tell Maria I am not interested. Only five people showed up for the auditions. Five girls. And they couldn’t care less about the revamped Juliet and Romeo script. I have a feeling the turnout would have been different if Olivia had signed up.

Dad looks up at the sound of my pounding footsteps. He squints, and I snicker when he puts on his glasses before spreading his arms for a hug. He is short-sighted. The man can’t see beyond his fingers without the aid of his glasses. I rush into his arms, and he squeezes me in a tight hug. I haven’t seen him in a week. It is either he’s gone before I wake, or he comes home when I have already left for school. But on the bright side, he’s alive and still married to Mom. No stepsisters.

He pulls me back to stare at my face. I grin. “I’ve missed you,” I say and hug him briefly.

“I’ve missed you too, Tessa.” He pats my back and opens the passenger door for me to get in. Ben could take some gentlemanly lessons from him. Maria honks from the other side of the parking lot, and we wave at her. “Is that Maria Vega? She doesn’t come to the house anymore.”

As if he was ever there the few times she visited. As if he’s ever at home. Anger breezes through me, but it’s forgotten when I turn and catch his smile. The car starts, and he drives out of the school.

Five minutes into our drive, I glance at his side profile. As expected, he has both hands on the steering wheel. Between both parents, I look more like my dad: flat chest and absent hips.

“What are you doing here?” Am I coming off too strong? I’m not mad, only a bit disoriented by his visit. I pout at my reflection in the side mirror, and he snickers. “I thought you were busy.”

“Never too busy for my daughter,” he replies, but his eyes remain on the road. I shake my head as laughter bursts out of my lips. I can count the number of times he showed up for me on one hand. The money is always available, but sadly, Dad isn’t. “Do you still like Dan and Dan?”

Dan and Dan is a cafe owned by a father and son duo with the same name. We used to spend our Sundays there. Me and him alone, talking about everything and nothing until he got swamped. It feels surreal to be in a car with him, to talk like we are back to those good old days, and I keep stealing glances at him to be sure he is real. Dad is busy, so busy his wife and kids don’t get to see him often. Going by his recent schedule, he shouldn’t be here with me. He should be at work.

I stretch my hand outside, and the breeze caresses my fingers. “Did Mom put you up to this?”

Putting my hand out of the car will annoy him, so I start a countdown until he notices.

One.

Two.

Three.

“Theresa. Hand inside the car. Now,” Daddy says in a stern voice. I roll my eyes but indulge him, and he rolls up all the windows, shutting off the natural air. “Back to your question, yes and no.”

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