“Hey d-what the fuck are you doing?”

I look up to see Archie with grocery bags in one hand and Dad’s collar in the other.

“Leave her alone.”

He pushes him back to the couch with surprising force and leaves the plastic bags on the counter before walking over and kneeling down in front of me.

“Hey, what happened?”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

I bite my lip to keep the tears away until he pulls at my chin.

“Stop it, Ry, you’re gonna hurt your lip.”

He looks down at the cast on my arm.

“Ryan, what happened to your arm? How-“

“Field hockey. It’s okay, Ollie took me.”

“Okay. We’ll talk about it later.”

I can’t meet his eyes, but he ruffles my hair and walks back to the fridge.

Get up, get up

I stagger to my feet and start helping Archie unbag the food.

We don’t speak until it’s all over. He looks at me and pulls me into a hug, and I sob as quietly as possible into his shoulder.

“It’s okay. Just a couple more years,” he murmurs.

I sniffle and wipe my eyes.

Pathetic.

“You gonna be okay?” He asks, and he looks so sweet and concerned.

God, I’m lucky to have him.

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m just gonna grab a shower…”

He nods, and before I can turn away a pint of ice cream and a spoon are put in my hands. I look down at the label.

Rocky Road…

I smile.

“Thanks, Archie.” He winks at me, and I grab my bag and head upstairs.

The shower steams and burns my skin, the plastic bag around my cast crackling.

I grab my dirty clothes and walk back down the hall to my room in a towel, and Dad walks past me.

“He’s not gonna be here forever, you know.”

He intentionally pushes me into the door as he passes by.

“Asshole…” I mutter. He freezes and I hurry inside my room and lock the door, ignoring his fists pounding on the wood. I sit down on the bed in my towel and eat a spoonful of ice cream. It melts against my tongue, and I smile. It’s literally my favourite food. Another spoonful, and a knocking sound makes me jump.

That didn’t come from the door…

I leave the ice cream on my nightstand and walk over to the window, where I see Ollie on the fire exit outside my window. I slide it up slowly, so it doesn’t give that telltale screech that it always does.

He grinds his cigarette butt against the brick and lifts it the rest of the way.

“Shhh, it makes a noise,” I warn, but its too late. I hear footsteps down the hall. 

“Get in, get in!” I wave Ollie into the closet just as Dad opens my door.