Chapter 6

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I don't waste time getting home. This car is starting to smell just as bad as I do. Father will kill me if this moldy cheese smell is permanent. I keep my body hung over the steering wheel, so I don't stain the seat with my clothes. The last thing I need is to spend three hours getting this thing cleaned.

Okay! Time to plan how I'm going to pull this off.

I'll need to sneak inside the house without any distractions. The last thing I want is mother grilling me with questions as to why I'm splattered with food. There's no way I can pull into the driveway without anyone noticing; I'll have to park down the street and hike back on foot. I can use the side entrance through the kitchen, then slither upstairs to my bedroom, grab a change of clothes, then sneak back downstairs, and finally back to school.

I navigate the Benz onto our street. There's a section of cart path that cuts across the road. I have to stop in order to let a foursome of golfers drive through. They take their sweet time making it across. All the while, the digital clock on the radio stares me in the face. I can practically feel time slip through my fingers. There's this inner urge to slam my fist to the horn, but I force it back. They're old. It wouldn't make them move faster even if I did do it.

Finally, I'm moving again. As I near our house, I cruise on by for a few hundred yards, then walk back on foot. Father should still be at work, and August doesn't get home from school until four thirty, so I only have to avoid mother.

I feel like a robber skulking up to my own house, tiptoeing around to the side door. The lock clicks as I turn the key. I stick my head inside making sure mother isn't there waiting for me. Much to my relief, she isn't.

The wooden steps of the staircase creak as I ascend to my room. I've always noticed a subtle amount of creaking, but right now it seems like a million times louder. But I finally make it to my room. The first piece of clothing on the rack in my closet is a white V-neck. I don't think twice about searching for something else; I yank it off the hanger along with a pair of pink yoga pants. My face and arms are still stained with food, but I can't take the chance of turning on the faucet; mother will hear the water running from downstairs. I'll just have to wash up when I get back to school.

There's this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I stand at the top of the stairs, staring all the way down to the bottom, wishing I could teleport myself down there.

Why do they have to squeak so loudly? There's gotta be fifteen steps at least. Wait a second! What if I were to slide down the banister? No. There's the possibility that I might fall off the side and hit the floor, then that will really cause a scene. Stop procrastinating. You can do this, McKenzie. You. Can. Do. This!

With each step down the staircase, I cringe, fearing that mother will hear me, but I force myself to continue. I don't know which room she's in. She does this online sales rep thing from her laptop until four o' clock. She usually sits in the theater room due to the chairs being more comfortable. I'll stay clear of there and cling to the wall on my way back to the kitchen.

My feet touchdown at the base of the stairwell. I feel like doing a victory dance, like I've just overcome a monstrosity of a challenge, or cured world hunger, or—

"McKenzie, we need to talk!" My heart plunges to my stomach as father's stern voice slices through me. It came from his den. But why is he here? He never gets off work this early. Like, ever. Why now? Why today?

I'm a mere arm's length from the side door. A part of me wants to pretend I didn't hear his call and slip out. I place one foot in front of the other and wrap my fingers around the brass knob.

"Now!" His tone tells me he isn't playing games. Reluctantly, I release my grip and shuffle into the den.

Why does it have to be this way? I'm already late. I don't have time to chat. The girls are probably well underway with the photo shoot by now and I still have to drive back to school and get cleaned up.

I make my way to the den and pass through the pair of open French doors. Father is seated in his high-back La-Z-Boy office chair. The antique desk he's sitting behind hides the lower half of his body. The first two buttons on his royal blue dress shirt are unbuttoned; his silvery-black chest hair protruding through the opening, and his sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearms. He's poised as if he's about to devour a rack of baby back ribs. Mother is standing beside him, hands resting in front of her waist. I don't like their composer. It's rigid. I get the feeling I'm in for a lecture.

Father leans back in his chair. "Do you know why I called you in here, Kenzie?"

I shrug, not wanting to meet his gaze. "Um. No, not really." But I did have a thought in mind. Could Principal Mayer have made the call that soon? It hasn't even been twenty minutes since I left school. If this is about Rhea and the catastrophic mess she caused, then I'm going to be furious. I'm late. So late! I don't need to rehash that event all over again for the nine millionth time.

The four days worth of stubble on Father's chin twitches as his lips crinkle into a smile. He reaches into the pull-out drawer of the desk and dangles a key in the air. "Go check the garage." He tosses the key at me, which I catch one-handed.

My heart flutters with hope. Could it be? Is this the graduation present I've been waiting for? I rush out of the den and into the garage. The empty space in our three car garage is now filled with a fiery red Ford Mustang.

A squeal escapes me and I repeatedly jump up and down. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I spin around, practically falling into father's arms. He rips the key from my fingers before I can fully process the action. "Hey! What'd you do that for?"

"To teach you a lesson." The playful smirk his face displayed moments ago is no longer there.

The sick feeling in my stomach swiftly returns. "Wha—I don't understand."

Mother is the one to speak this time. "We just got off the phone with the school principal."

I roll my eyes as soon as I hear those words. "Look! Before you say anything, that wasn't my fault. Okay? None of it was my fault!"

"The principal told us you caused several thousand dollars worth of damage to the school. And how you treated that girl . . ." She shakes her head in disappointment. "That is not how we raised you, McKenzie."

I slap my hands over my temples, struggling to subdue an enraged scream. "The entire school was throwing food! Why am I the one to blame? And as for that girl, she ran into me while I was holding a tray full of garbage. Then before I knew it, food was flying everywhere. That's the truth!"

Father crosses his arms over his chest. "And you think just because everyone else was doing it, then it was okay for you to do it, too?"

"I . . . I don't know. Okay. I wasn't thinking. Just give me the keys so I can get back to school. The Blue Jays' photo shoot is going to be over soon."

"No."

My heart drops to my toes. "What do you mean no? That's so unfair!"

"You're grounded, young lady." He marches back to his den and stuffs the key back inside the drawer. "The only place you'll be going is back to the school cafeteria to help clean up that mess.

"You have got to be kidding me?" I can't believe what I'm hearing.

"Not even a little. Promise me you'll go straight to school and clean up the cafeteria." His steely eyes stare me down. That's when I feel my own gaze shy away from his.

"Fine! I promise."

"And don't even think about taking the Benz. It isn't far; you can walk to school. And on your way there, you can think about how we raised you to treat other people."

I snort at his command. "Oh! So now I have to walk to school? What if something bad happens to me? Huh? What if I get kidnapped?"

"You have your cell phone; you'll be fine. And when you return, we're going to talk about how you can pay me back for the property damage you caused to the school."

I'm practically out the door before he's able to finish his sentence. "Ugh! This is the worst day EVER!"

* * *

I wish I had a time machine. I would go back to the exact moment when I woke up this morning and tell myself how to avoid all those mishaps. Or better yet, tell myself to avoid school altogether. Call in sick, then go all Ferris Bueller or something. At least his story had a happier ending than mine. And now, father wants me to help clean up the cafeteria. That'll take hours! I guess I should accept the fact that I'm not going to make it to the photo shoot.

I never want to see that Rhea girl ever again.

Maybe I can still salvage this day or what's left of it at least. The game will start in about an hour. I'll have to work around the promise that I made to father. I'll think of something. It won't be the first time I've wriggled free from a promise. I'm not talking about breaking the promise altogether. Of course not. But I do know how to fulfill a promise, while making sure I come out on top.

My forehead is a wet mess by the time I make it back to school. This has got to be one of the hottest summers ever. The rush of air conditioning feels refreshing as I step through the school's entrance. The gymnasium is already filling up with students from both schools, along with their families. I can hear the excited chatter of the coaching staff from out here in the hallway. The Hawks better win tonight. If they do, it will be the only reason this day was worth enduring. It has been too long since this school has brought home a trophy. Over the last few years, the only team at Stardust High that has brought home a trophy is the lacrosse team. And really, what's the point of that game?

The photo shoot is to be held in the school's auditorium. The drama club had reluctantly postponed their rendition of The Prince and the Pauper in order for us Blue Jays to use the stage for the shoot. We're far more important than some stupid play anyhow, and it has the best lighting than anywhere else in the entire school, not to mention the different backdrops would make for some nice diversity. Though, I must say, a theater performance going on at the same time as a basketball game is all so High School Musical.

The cafeteria is between the gymnasium and the auditorium. The only reason why I don't march on by is because I have to fulfill my promise and "help" clean up. I'm shocked to see how many people are cleaning when I arrive. There are at least two dozen students. I scan the area for Aurora; she's on her knees scrubbing the floor, wearing these hideous yellow gloves that stretch all the way to her elbows. I don't want her to see me, so I squat down behind one of the still knocked over tables. There's a crumpled up napkin an arm's length away from me. I'm swift to grab it and toss it in the trash can, then quickly exit the cafeteria unnoticed.

There. I kept my promise and cleaned up the cafeteria all in the same moment. I deserve a Good Samaritan award or something.

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