The Education of Hailey Kendrick - Eileen Cook [13]
“Screw loyalty,” I said, hurling another ball of mud. “And duty, too.” I was bending over, scooping handfuls of mud, and throwing them as fast as I could at the statue. I was a lousy athlete most of the time, but rage was doing a great job of improving my aim. The mud was sliding down the side of the statue, and occasionally a ping would ring out as a rock hit the metal.
“Whoa. What did he do to you?” a voice said behind me.
I whirled around, ready to bolt. I could make out a figure in the dark but couldn’t see his face clearly. He took a step forward. It was Joel.
I dropped the clot of mud in my hand. My jeans were coated in grime, and I could tell it was in my hair, too. I looked over my shoulder at the statue in case he had anything to add that might help me explain.
“I came to make sure you were okay,” Joel said, his voice calm and slow as if he were speaking to someone who might snap at any moment, which, given the circumstances, was probably a good strategy. “I tried calling you back a few times, but you didn’t pick up.”
“I’m not okay,” I said, my voice small.
He didn’t say anything else. Joel crossed the few feet that separated us and pulled me into a hug, despite the fact that I was soaking wet and dirty. “It’s all right. You’re going to be okay, though, I promise.”
I leaned into the hug, and he squeezed me tight before pulling away and plunking me down on the closest bench. I started bawling like a two-year-old and then spilled the whole story about my relationship with my dad and everything else that had happened. “I know it’s no big deal. In the big scheme of things, we’re talking summer plans, not starving children or a collapsing world economy or anything.” I shrugged, hoping to give the impression that I was working myself closer to sanity and off the emotional edge.
“It seems like a big deal to me. He gave you his word. He made a promise.”
“But this conference is a big deal. He’ll have a chance to pull in all sorts of funding.”
“But he had you make all these plans and invite all these people over for a summer blowout, only to leave you in a lurch. Besides, this is still his last chance to have time with you before you go off to college.”
“Yeah, but I’m not going to school in Borneo or anything. I could still come home during the summers.” I wiped my nose with my sleeve.
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Joel asked. I jumped a bit at the unexpected question. He laughed at my expression. “You’re busted, Kendrick. You’re ticked. It’s fine to be pissed at your dad. Anger isn’t a bad thing.”
“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed,” I clarified.
Joel laughed harder. “Disappointed, huh? Do you always hurl things at statues when you’re disappointed?”
I looked at my hands. They were covered in mud, and I had broken two fingernails. Busted. I was mad. In fact, it was possible I had left mad behind, whipped through angry, and was plunk in the middle of really pissed off. I had been disappointed that my dad seemed fine with me living far away at boarding school. I felt let down that when I got straight A’s, won state championships in debate, and made student government, all he did was pat me absently on the head like a good puppy who had managed to bring back a stick without peeing on the rug. I was bummed that my dad was so disinterested in my life that he could barely remember the names of my friends when he did see me, but this was a whole new level of ticked off. I felt my eyes fill up with tears again.
“He’s my dad, and he acts like he wants to forget I even exist.”
“No one could forget you.” Joel tipped my chin up so we were looking eye to eye. “You’re the kind of person that makes an impression.”
“What kind of impression? Sometimes I feel like I’m not even being me. That everything is this