Chapter 12

“I think I'll just walk...” I told Mr. Berns.

He nodded with a stern look on his face, the stress lines on his forehead appearing larger than ever. I started to walk back to my locker to grab my backpack and jacket just as Mr. Berns called from his office, “Annabel,”

I turned around and he stood up out of his spinning chair, “Yes?”

“You... didn't kiss him. Did you.”

Well that was a rhetorical question.

I flashed him a friendly smile and answered simply, “No. I did not kiss Gabriel White,” although, I wished I had.

Mr. Berns sighed but it almost looked like a sigh of relief. “I'm sorry, Annabel, just things are really stressful for me right now.”

Yeah, Mr. Berns, listen to my secret.

“I understand,” I answered abruptly, although I wished I could have screamed to his face what I had to deal with every day.

“I really didn't mean to stop you guys and pull you out...”

“Skipping school doesn't seem like much of a punishment.” I snickered.

Mr. Berns sat back down in his office chair and rubbed the temples of his eyes with his fingers. Something else was on his mind.

“What's on your mind?” I asked not even thinking. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

“I just got a divorce.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.”

“She used me!”

I nodded thoughtfully and started out the office door.

Mr. Berns mumbled something under his breath, but I couldn't understand what it was.

For some odd reason I was in a jolly mood. I mean, skipping school for something I didn't do? Heck, I'd do this every day!

I skipped to my locker and started whistling some familiar tune. Teachers rolled their eyes and shut the classroom doors as I went by. The students gave me strange looks because here I was skipping through the school hallways, and they had to just sit there at a wooden desk and listen to the kookoo teachers. Hilarious.

An hour later I arrived home from the three mile walk. My shoulders hurt from the textbooks that Gabe now couldn't help me carry and what else could've been in my backpack. There were probably species in there that scientists haven't even discovered yet!

There was a rusty red truck with the muffler as loud as an earthquake in the driveway. Crap! Phil was home.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the house.

Phil was in his chair watching T.V. As soon as he heard me come in. The screen went black, and drunk man grumbled and stood up.

“Hey dad!” I mocked.

“Why are you here!?” He shouted and smashed the bottle of whisky to the floor.

“I love you too,” I chuckled to myself, “I'm actually here because I got suspended.”

“You're in huge trouble, kid!” Phil's large hands smashed me down to the hard wood floor.

“Gosh, I'll do what you say! The beer is in the garage!” I stood up and brush the dust off my back. Wow, he was weak today, and all I do is a couple crunches and push-ups every morning...

“You're asking for it!”

“Am I?”

Phil pinned me back to the floor, this time my head bashed against the cupboard corner. I held my tears back, ready to smack his head off. But just as I was about to swing my fist, Phil took out his pocket knife and slid it through my wrist. The bright red blood trickled onto my sweatpants as I shrieked in pain. I tried to push him over to the ground, but it was useless; his overweight body weighed more than Gabe and I combined. Phil gathered my shirt in his calloused hands and threw me to the steps. Scrambling to get up and dash to my room, Phil stuck his smelly foot on my twig size thigh. My neck was twisted at a weird angle, and my wrist was still gushing from the cut. Phil slapped my face several times as well as my arms and ankles. He finally kicked me in the stomach which whipped the freaking wind out of me.

“Go home, kid.”

Those were probably the most hurtful three words I've heard in my entire life. As much as I hated it, this WAS my home, and he was my dad. I lived in possibly the most crummy house in the neighborhood, and my room was just barely bigger than the bathroom. I get suspended from school for doing nothing, but my dad greets me by beating the helll out of me. 

A tear leaked down from my eye as I laid there as a rock. I could hear the old engine of the Ford 1957 guzzle down the road- Phil was probably leaving for the bar.

I managed to stand up and limp to the hallway telephone with no hands, but it was almost impossible because my fingers were grasped around my left wrist.

I let go of my wrist for a split second to dial Gabe's number but then shifted the phone to my shoulder and right jaw.

“Hey Annabel, what's up?”

“Can you take me to your house?”

“Take you? We're neighbors!”

“G, Gabe,” I stuttered.

“I'm on my way.”

Gabe was there in two seconds.

“Oh my God!” his mouth popped open when he walked through the door.

I burst to tears, but in no time he ran over to me who was now sprawled on the couch and gathered me in his arms. The heat of his body felt nice on the fresh scars and blooming bruises.

He shut the front door with his foot and slowly walked to his friendly house. 

“Annabel! It's so nice to see you!” Mrs. Smith greeted us at the front door.

“Hi.” I croaked.

“What's wrong?” she asked Gabe nodding to my wrist and the revealed bruises on my arms.

“Uh...” Gabe stood awkwardly at the door.

There was no way we could let a huge problem like this go. I had to tell Mrs. Smith, because otherwise, she'd get suspicious. 

I had to tell her. I had to.