Page 84 of Room to Breathe

My car was where I’dleft it in the school parking lot, like the past nearly twenty-four hours in the bathroom hadn’t happened at all. I pressed the unlock button on my key fob, threw my backpack into the back seat, and climbed inside. I immediately started the engine and checked my rearview mirror to back out of my space. Nobody was behind me. On my way out of the parking lot I did notice something interesting, though: both Ava’s car and Beau’s. Had they driven separately to school the day before? Did they not carpool anymore? I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t thought of it before. They had to have taken separate cars; otherwise she would’ve known right away that he was missing after school. Maybe he only drove yesterday because he was stocking the teacher’s lounge.

I kept going. What time had my mom said the meeting was today? Two? Three? I didn’t remember. I had never planned on going. If I was being honest with myself, even though I was good at pretending, I had never actually planned to write a letter for it either. That’s why I hadn’t. I still had time to write one if themeeting wasn’t until two. Because no matter what, my dad deserved the benefit of the doubt. He deserved for me to believe him.

I pulled into the driveway at home, parking in the spot to the right of the garage. It felt like I hadn’t been home in years, even though I had literally been here yesterday. I ran up the front steps to the door. It was locked. I dug my keys out of my backpack and unlocked it, then hurried into the house.

“Mom! Dad! I’m home!”

There was no answer. I searched the house—the kitchen, their bedroom, my bedroom. Nothing. I sat on my bed and pulled out my phone, bringing up the texts that I hadn’t had time to properly digest as I was leaving the bathroom.

Where are you

Your location is off

Should I be worried

Did you write the letter

Are you going to make it to the meeting

This is very important

Indy, the least you can do is answer me

We’re going to talk about consequences when you get home.

My life felt like one big consequence lately, but whatever, I probably deserved more.

I checked my parents’ location. They were already at the law firm. It was barely twenty after twelve. How long had they been there? Were they at the beginning of their meeting or the end?

I texted my mom:I’m sorry! I got locked in the bathroom at school. Is it too late? I’ll come now!

I changed out of my jeans and tee and into a skirt and button-down blouse. I brushed my hair and teeth and even applied somemakeup. I tried to tuck the black strip of hair behind my ear, but it still stood out bold. I gave up and went to my room, where I opened my laptop.

I grabbed my phone, realizing I now had access to the notes I’d been taking over the past several weeks. They would make this task easier. I pulled them up and read over them. They were…terrible. Just anecdotes with zero emotion. Stories that said nothing about who my dad was or things he’d taught me or sacrifices he’d made. And they were tinged with bitterness.

Bitterness that had somehow faded to almost nothing over the past twenty-four hours. Or maybe it had been fading and I hadn’t realized it. Either way, I knew that talking to Beau had helped. A couple of months didn’t erase a lifetime of what my dad had done for me.

I quickly wrote the letter while keeping an eye on my phone for an incoming message from my mom. I included stories and feelings and personal thoughts about who my dad was to me.

When I was finished, I sent it to my printer, only to remember I’d never changed out the ink. I carried my laptop downstairs to my dad’s office. It seemed so bare with all his paperwork and files gone. He’d straightened it up in the past several months, but it was still eerily out of sorts. I set my laptop on his desk and sent the letter to the printer. As a page was being fed through the machine, I heard the front door shut. It scared me and I jumped. I rushed out of the office.

“Hello! Dad! Mom!” I called.

I saw Mom’s face first. There was a beat of relief in her eyes, like she had been worried about me, but that relief quickly shifted to anger. Dad, who stood behind her, just looked exhausted.

She held up her phone. “Locked in a bathroom? Very creative.” She was referring to my text. She thought I made it up. Lied.

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s the truth. You can ask Beau.”

“Beau?” Mom asked. “I thought you and Beau weren’t friends anymore.”

“We aren’t. We weren’t…” Were we now? Maybe. The expressions on Ava’s and Caroline’s faces when they saw me flashed through my mind. Yeah, probably not. I couldn’t think about that right now. Dad sank onto the couch. Mom straightened decor on the bookshelf that didn’t need to be straightened.

“How did the meeting go?” I asked. “I wrote a letter. I’m printing it. Or I can email it somewhere if that would be better.”

“We don’t need it anymore,” Dad said.

“Oh.” Was that good news?