Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher [48]
And maybe I didn’t want to do just the least I could do.
chapter sixteen
I GUESS it was about midnight when we got back to Boyer. Sage and I had stopped at the Columbia Steak ’n Shake for some burgers and malts. Like any place that sells greasy food at night, the restaurant was loaded with college students in various states of sobriety. The more I thought about it, the more I was looking forward to going off to school.
Sage and I didn’t talk about anything important. We sat in a corner booth drinking milk shakes and laughing behind our hands at the drunks. I managed to go nearly ten minutes without thinking about Sage’s sex. It was a start. By the time we left for college, maybe I could think of Sage simply as my friend. Just like Jack or Tim. Sage would just be one of the guys.
What an amazingly bad analogy.
By the time we returned to Boyer, the town was almost totally dark. Only a couple of bars cast illumination onto the silent streets.
“Hey, I still don’t know where you live,” said Sage, slowing down as we pulled into town.
“Yeah.” Now that Sage had told me her secret, it seemed kind of silly that I’d been ashamed of living in a trailer. “You know, you still have my car battery.” Mom had asked about it a few days earlier.
“That’s right. Okay, we’ll stop by my house and pick it up. It’s in the garage, so we won’t wake my parents.”
Agreeing to this was one of the stupider things I’d ever done.
He was standing in the garage when Sage hit the automatic opener. I don’t know how long he’d been waiting. He just stood there in the glow of the headlights like some demon from a slasher movie. Indestructible and immortal.
Sage’s father.
Even if I hadn’t recognized him from that photo in Sage’s living room, I would have from the striking family resemblance. This was where Sage got her height, her big hands, her Y chromosome.
He was not pleased to see us.
Sage gripped the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles were white. I waited for her to say something, to show me the situation was not as bad as it appeared.
“I wasn’t supposed to be out tonight. Especially not with a guy.” Her hand lingered over the gearshift like she was contemplating throwing the truck into reverse.
So much for that hope. Without looking in my direction, she exited the vehicle. I contemplated locking the doors and starting a new life as a hermit inside the truck, but I decided it wasn’t feasible. I followed Sage.
Mr. Hendricks was not more attractive close-up. He had lost most of his hair, but his baldness somehow made him look manlier. His hands were hairy and his teeth were crooked and yellow. He was looking at me like I was a neighbor’s dog who’d just crapped on his lawn.
“Dad,” began Sage.
“Get in the house, Sage.” His one eyebrow crinkled over his misshapen nose.
“But, Dad …”
“Now.” He didn’t raise his voice, but he was not to be argued with. With a sad backward glance, Sage went inside.
It occurred to me that if I put my head down and ran, he wouldn’t be able to catch me. I was a sprinter; I’d be down the street before Sage’s father realized what was happening. But then Sage would be screwed. I had to stick around for damage control. Act like for all I knew, Sage was just a normal girl and we’d just been out eating, nothing more. Then I’d stand there and take my lumps. I just hoped the lumps would be metaphorical.
Mr. Hendricks spit on the oily floor. Then, to my horror, he hit the garage door button, sealing me in. This was bad. Maybe he wanted to punctuate his displeasure with a couple of punches to my gut and didn’t want the neighbors to hear.
Sage’s father pulled up a bench and did not invite me to sit on a nearby lawn chair. Instead, I stood at rigid attention while he picked up a lawn mower blade and began to methodically sharpen it.
“So you’re Logan,” he said eventually. He said it like being Logan was some sort of dark perversion.
“Yes, sir.” So he knew I existed. At the moment, I kind of wished I didn’t.
The blade rhythmically scraped on the