Maybe My Expectations For Honesty Are Too

When I Glanced At The Chair, It Started To Shake. I’d Like To Think It Was Scared Of Me, But I Rarely Invoked That Response In Living Things, Let Alone Inanimate Objects.

I Remember Hearing Myself Start To Whimper, A Five-year-old, Crouched By The Side Of The Road, Staring Into My Father's Eyes, Whimpering Because It Was So Dark And There Was No One Coming To Help, Whimpering Because My Mother Was Back In The Crushed Car, Not Moving, And My Father Was Lying Here In The Dirt, Not Answering Me, Not Holding Me, Not Comforting Me, Not Helping My Mother Get Out Of The Car, And There Was Blood, So Much Blood, And Broken Glass Everywhere, And It Was So Dark And So Cold And No One Was Coming To Help.

Clearly It Was Time To Consider Rescheduling That Optometrist Appointment I'd Missed Last Fall.

Antonio- "just In Time, Pete. Five More Minutes Of Reading This And She'd Have Been In A Coma." Peter- "are We Such Bad Company That You'd Rather Hide Out In Here Reading That Old Thing?

I Told Him What My Dad Had Said. That Got Him Laughing And As We Pulled Into The School Parking Lot, Even The Sight Of Rafe Waiting For Me Only Made Him Roll His Eyes. We Got Out. I Glanced At Daniel. He Sighed. "go On." "you Sound Like You're Giving A Five-year-old Permission To Play With An Unsuitable Friend." "if The Shoe Fits..." I Flipped Him Off. "watch It Or I Won't Marry You," He Said. "truck Of No Truck." I Laughed And Jogged Over To Rafe. "did He Just Say...?" Rafe Began.