Indifference (boyxboy)

16. Off the Hook

Ryan

For the next week and a half, Elijah read to me every night. I was almost sad when we finished the book. Listening to him read to me had fast become the highlight of my day. Yes, I took a lot of stick from Nate. He seemed to alternate between making obscene kissing gestures and calling me a baby who needed a bedtime story.

I didn't care though, and I couldn't help but notice that Nate would always be in our room at the time Elijah would call to read the next installment. He pretended that he wasn't listening, but then he got proper hissy the one night I wouldn't put it on speaker phone.

And funnily enough, I actually enjoyed the story in the end. Elijah would take the time to go over each chapter he read to point out the things that we had been talking about in class, and for the first time that I could remember, I actually started joining in in class. The first time I answered a question, I swear that Mr Roberts's jaw nearly fell off!

We had already brain stormed several ideas for our project and I was sure we'd have it completed in no time.

But, of course, just because one thing was actually starting to go well with my life, another part had to suffer.

"MUM!! WHERE'S MY TIE!?"

"WHAT?"

"MY FUCKING TIE MUM. WHERE IS IT?"

"OH MY GOD, WHAT AM I? THE MAGIC FAIRY?! HOW SHOULD I KNOW?"

I stomped back into my bedroom and started tossing everything in my path to the side like a giant bulldozer. I could feel my rage rising.

I turned and stepped over my mattress and then heard a crunch as my foot landed on something on the floor.

"FFUUUUUUUUCCCKKK!!!" I screamed. I picked up my controller and pulled off a small piece of plastic that had snapped off one side.

"What's all the shouting about?" my dad asked as he burst into my room. He had an angry scowl on his face, and I knew I shouldn't push his buttons, but I was just too angry to care.

"This fucking..." I said hurling one piece into the wall, "...piece...." and there went the other, "...of shit!" And because I didn't have anything left in my hand, I picked up a shoe off the floor and sent that flying too.

I was losing control and I could feel it.

In just two steps my dad had walked over to me and grabbed me by my shoulders and pinned me against the wall.

"Shut up you fucking idiot," he growled. His face bright red and close to mine.

"Or what?" I replied, pushing my weight back against him.

I saw a flicker of doubt fly across his face as he realised I was only a couple of inches shorter than him, and more than able to hold my own with him now.

"Or I'll smash your head against this wall so hard that your brain's 'll come out your ears."

We glared at each other in a sort of stand off. I knew that there was a good chance I could take him. I'd known that for a good year or so now. My father may have had height and weight on his side, but he wasn't trained like I was.

But even so, I found myself breaking eye contact. The universal sign of submission.

I felt him breathe a sigh of relief. He knew, just as I did, that one day the tables could turn. But I knew that day wasn't any day soon. You see, there seemed to be something genetically inbuilt into me that meant I wouldn't hurt my dad. It was incredibly frustrating. Especially as that meant that everyone said that my dad "could handle me."