“So, any news?” asked Paige. Every thirty minutes, she called to check if I had finally heard whether I would be grounded.
Well, we got busted last night. When Paige and I had gotten back at around midnight, we found my dad sitting on the front porch—dimmed lights, phone in hand, and a grim smile on his face. He was pretty upset.
As much as I’d wanted to shake off my dad’s troubled mindset and humor him that there should always be a first time for everything, the atmosphere last night hadn’t permitted me to do so. Dad was all the way gloomy, like his every movement spelled the word melancholy.
Normally, my dad was like one sunny day in a human package. He usually greeted everyone good morning from the moment he stepped foot at work until he arrived at his office; good afternoon while eating lunch with his colleagues; or even good evening if he saw someone late at night, while buying some last-minute groceries.
He was everybody’s man. Even the times they had chosen him as the best man for weddings were now more than the number of his fingers. He was just like that—all smiles, perky personality, and a very warm voice.
So when an unexpected gloominess surrounded him last night, I knew that something was definitely wrong and probably more off than my sneaking out. I had done stupid things before and had drawn his wrath to myself, but last night was kind of weird.
I exhaled, telling Paige, “None as of the moment.”
“It can’t be something big, right? I mean, your dad is not that much of a terror,” Paige replied.
“I don’t know. He’s been quiet all this while,” I said, hushing my voice, just in case Dad would come to the kitchen and hear our conversation on the phone. It might add fuel to the fire that was already made and burning.
“Yeah, he was kind of odd. He went to his room early and everything,” Paige agreed.
“It was the same this morning. He barely said a word to me,” I told her. Then, giving it a thought, I added, “Okay, wait. Come to think of it, he hadn’t spoken to me at all.”
I looked at the clock. It was a little after two in the afternoon. Dad was so preoccupied and anxious all day. Even his lunch was still on the table, untouched. I was the only one in this house who had enough appetite to finish her meal.
I knew that something was definitely wrong, and he couldn’t tell me a thing about it. Aside from the fact that I had broken my curfew, there must be something else he was deeply thinking about.
“Not even one word?”
“Nu-uh.”
“I hope he’ll forget about your curfew.”
“Definitely possible,” I said, knowing my dad’s personality. After all, I grew up with him ever since Mom and Dad had separated ten years ago.
I heard the door of my dad’s room open, so I told Paige, “Gotta go. Dad got out of his room. I think he’s ready to talk, if that makes any sense.”
She laughed on the other line. “And he’s the one who really needs to get ready. Well, good luck. I’m sorry for making you break your curfew last night.”
“It’s okay,” I replied, being reminded of the masked guy at the party. My occasional thinking of him hadn’t faded yet. Why was he wearing a mask at that party? And, for some odd reason, why did he sketch me?
Now, I could only wish that I had talked to him some more, since we still got busted after. The thing about breaking your curfew, I’d found out, was that if you were going to break it, then why not do it all the way?
Ha.
“Fiona?”
“Yes, Dad?” I rushed towards the dining table. Okay, verdict time. Goodbye, cellphone. See you again, world. Come and find your place, ill-fated senior life.
“Take a seat.” Dad pointed to the empty chair at my left. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
The last time he had given him a serious punishment was two years ago, when I’d ditched last period and went on a double date with Paige. Little did we know my dad was having a business meeting around the area. So the first time I’d skipped classes, I got busted, too. This was getting repetitive.
“Dad, I’m so sorry for...” I drummed my fingers on the table while picking the right words to start my apology. I lifted my eyes to get a view of his face, to see whether he was a bit upset, furious, or all the way raged. But instead of looking angry, he was worried. I also noticed his restlessness. His blonde hair was a mess, and it was all over the place. I noticed his glasses were crooked. There was this undeniable puffiness under his eyes. I wondered if he had gotten any sleep at all. He continued his silence, so I carried on, “...breaking my curfew. I knew what I did was wrong. I shouldn’t have—”
After a minute of silence, he finally said, “It’s about Finn.”
I blinked twice. “Finn?”
He nodded.
“Dad, are we still talking about my punishment?”
He lifted his head. “Come to think of it, you broke your curfew last night.”
“Right, I did,” I responded slowly, feeling like a fool for even mentioning it. I could have gotten myself out of this one if only I didn’t ask that.
Me and my extra large mouth.
“Let’s talk about that later.” Dad shoved the discussion about my curfew immediately. I was about to be overwhelmingly happy when I heard him say instead, “There’s something you need to know about Finn.”
“Finn?” I clarified. Finn and I were fraternal twins. The last time I saw him was when we were nine, when Mom and Dad had talked things over after two years of being apart.
“Yes.” Dad took off his glasses and wiped them with his shirt.
“What about him?” I asked, suddenly worried.
“I got a note for this event we held in school, the one I told you about before,” he continued.
“Note for the Headmaster, right?” During the end of the school year at my dad’s workplace, they required every student to make a note addressed to the headmaster. You could say anything on that paper. It was like a feedback on how to improve the school or things like that. My dad would usually bring them home during summer and read them.
“That one,” he confirmed.
“What about them?”
“Finn sent me a note,” he answered.
“Yeah, he does that for your birthday or during holidays.” Even though we grew up separately, Finn and I had been in constant communication ever since. Unlike Mom, who never bothered talking to me, Finn was the opposite. I guessed it was because we were used to being together—same school and same grade ever since we were little. It was hard for us to be apart.
However, while Finn wasn’t that distant with me, he was to our dad, like I was with Mom. His letters for him only arrived during special occasions and nothing more. I understood him. For me, it was hard to talk to Mom when she didn’t even try to reach out to me at all. It was like I was Dad’s and he was Mom’s. This was how it was going to be. End of discussion. There was no in between. No impasse.
“It was in the junior’s box,” Dad continued.
It took me several seconds before I got what he meant. “You mean, Finn’s note was in there?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“What did it say? Wait, why was it there in the first place? How was he able to put it inside?” I suddenly felt alarmed. I thought my dad was only getting confused with his story, mentioning Finn and then sharing to me things about the Notes for the Headmaster.
Instead of answering my questions, Dad grabbed something out of his pocket. He handed it to me, and I hurriedly read the contents. The paper felt clammy in my hands.
I’ve been here in Corner Stone the entire year, and you didn’t even recognize me when I greeted you in the hall? What kind of father are you?
I read the note repeatedly. It sounded like my brother, all right. So much hatred against the world. Finn had gone through every adolescent angst during his early teen years. There had been at least five phone calls from Mom over the years, asking if he was here because he went missing.
Oh, and Dad was working in Corner Stone High School. That was also the reason we had to move here after their separation. This was also the reason I knew a thing or two about that place, aside from the usual things you’d hear around.
“When was the last time you two saw each other?” Dad asked.
“Several years ago, with Mom. You came with me that time,” I said. Finn had attended a boarding school after their separation. Given the situation, our family’s complications, and our parents’ erratic work schedules, we never got the chance to see each other again.
“Do you have any pictures of him?”
“None,” I answered. Weirdly enough, Finn also didn’t have any social media accounts and refused to send me pictures whenever I asked him to let me know what he looked like now. Every single time I’d ask him, he would just say that it was a surprise. Sometimes, he would joke around, saying that he was too handsome for the camera.
But we’d made a promise to see each other again for our eighteenth birthday next year after my high school graduation. We would go on a trip somewhere. So I just waited, not really feeling bothered about it. It was kind of exciting. If only I had known a picture would be needed now, I would have insisted on it before.
“So you do not know what he looks like?”
“Reddish-blonde hair? Finn…ish? You know, an older version of Finn?” I suggested. Finn’s hair was almost the same shade as Dad’s, only more like strawberry blonde. Mine was like Mom’s—auburn. Aside from the shape of our noses, we had no other common feature. Even his eyes were blue, and mine were dull brown ones.
“There was no junior who looked like your brother.”
“Surely, you’d notice someone with the name Finn Pearce, wouldn’t you?”
“I think he used fake documents. I had gone through the entire students’ list, and I didn’t see his name,” Dad replied.
Of course, why would Finn use his real name if he was, well, being sneaky about all this? If he wanted to talk to my father straight in the face, he wouldn’t bother going through all the trouble of staying in Corner Stone for the entire year. Actually, it was also funny how he had gotten into their exclusive school using fake documents.
Way to go, Finn!
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