Page 41 of The Intruder

Today Anton has detention.

It wasn’t even his fault this time. I saw the whole thing.

Some kid came up to him in the hallway and started being a jerk, and of course, Anton dished it right back.

But the other kid was the one who hit him.

Anton didn’t even hit him back. He told me he’s trying really hard not to get detention anymore so we can hang out, but it’s hard for him not to get into fights because he has something called “bad pulse control.” I don’t really know what it means exactly, and Anton wasn’t entirely sure either.

I know your pulse is like your heartbeat though.

So does that mean there’s something wrong with Anton’s heart? He seems healthy to me.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Anton didn’t even hit the other kid and still ended up with two days’ detention, and today is the second. At least he wasn’t suspended though.

So instead of going to the park or doing something else with Anton, I’m all alone.

At first, I’m planning to go home. Lately, I can’t even breathe in my house anymore, especially with all the smoke. I can’t take it anymore. Living anywhere else would be better than living there.

And anyway, my mother isn’t expecting me home for a while.

I end up wandering in the direction of the university. I heard Brittany talking about how her dad is a professor there. He teaches sociology, whatever that is. It sounds sort of like zoology, although I guess a lot of the subjects end in ology, like biology and astrology.

I wasn’t exactly planning to go there, but somehow, half an hour later, I’m at the university campus.

When I arrive, I’m not entirely sure where the sociology department is, but I ask around, and finally, somebody points me in the direction of a light-colored brick building that’s about five stories high.

When I get to the sociology building, you need a key code, but somebody holds the door for me, and I’m able to walk right inside. There’s a directory on the building, and I look for the name John Carter. Luckily, it’s in alphabetical order so I find it pretty quickly:

John Carter, PhD.

My dad has a PhD. That’s amazing. My mom didn’t even graduate from high school, although she gets mad if you bring it up.

I wouldn’t ordinarily have the courage to visit my father at his work.

But the X-Acto knife hidden in the small pouch of my backpack gives me confidence.

Anton warned me not to bring it to school because it would be bad if I got caught, but I doubt that would happen.

Plus, it’s not like I’m planning to use it or anything.

It’s just that having it with me makes me feel safe.

I take the elevator to the third floor. I don’t entirely have a plan as such.

But I do know that I want to see my father.

I want to tell him that I know who he is, and I want to tell him how my life has been for the last thirteen years.

Once he hears the whole truth, he’s going to want to help me for sure. Unless he’s a horrible person.

When I get to the third floor, I wander around a little bit, but then I find the door. There’s a gold plate on it that reads John Carter, PhD. Then underneath, Professor of Sociology.

My dad is a professor. An actual professor. I feel a surge of something I’ve never felt before in my whole life.

Pride.

I hesitate for a moment before knocking on the door. I listen for the sound of him coming to answer, but it’s quiet. I think the lights aren’t on inside the room. Maybe he’s not here. I wonder if I should wait.

“Brittany? Is that you?”

My head jerks up at the sound of a woman’s voice. A heavyset, middle-aged woman with dark brown hair cut short is coming toward me. I hug my arms to my chest and take a step back. I can’t believe I got caught before even getting to talk to my father.

“Brittany?” The woman blinks at me, a pleasant smile on her face. “My gosh, is that little Brittany? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

She thinks I’m Brittany. She must have absolutely no clue what Brittany looks like.

“Hi,” I say timidly.

“My goodness!” she sighs. “Well, I think the last time I saw you, you were only five years old! And you were wearing the cutest little ballerina outfit!”

Naturally.

“I’m Bettina,” she tells me. “I’m Dr. Monroe’s assistant. I’m sure you don’t remember me.”

I shake my head.

“How old are you now?” she asks me. “Ten? Eleven?”

“Thirteen,” I manage.

“Thirteen!” Bettina clutches her chest. “Lordy, time goes fast, doesn’t it? You always were a tiny one.”

The real Brittany Carter is quite a few inches taller than I am. Probably because she actually has food in her house that she’s able to eat.

“I heard you get straight A’s in school,” Bettina says. “Your daddy is always bragging about you.”

I wonder if my mom ever bragged about my good grades. I doubt it. “Yes…”

“What’s your favorite subject?”

“Science,” I answer truthfully. “I really liked learning about genetics last year.”

That makes her smile wider. “You’ve always been a smart one. Smart and pretty.”

What must it be like to grow up with people giving you compliments all the time? I can’t even imagine it. I wonder if Brittany ever gets sick of it. I wouldn’t.

“Well, your daddy is at a staff meeting right now,” she tells me. “But why don’t you come with me? I’ll get you some snacks to munch on while you’re waiting for him.”

The voice that screamed at me not to sneak around the Carters’ house the other day is now telling me that I should get out of here while I still can. No good can come of pretending to be Brittany Carter. But then again, she said she has snacks. And I am really hungry.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “I’d like that.”

Bettina beams at me. “You are such a polite one. I can tell your daddy raised you right.”

This is going so well. I won’t need that knife in my backpack at all, I bet.