• ~Please read my gallery for prior chapters first~

    "Hello?" I said a little nervously. I heard mumbling on the other side, and then,

    "Yes? Who is this?" I took a deep breath, and replied,

    "Dad. It's me." There was the most peculiar awkward silence. For five seconds, I felt like we were at a stare down in a gun match, except we were talking over the phone, so we couldn't stare eachother down, and we weren't trying to kill eachother...

    Darn it! My metahpors suck!

    My dad then broke the silence, and said,

    "Tom, you know I'm busy. What's going on?" I stared at the car, and thought back to all the events that just transpired. My careless mom left half her car exposed to the other lane...another car rammed into it...we spun in circles...we fell in a ditch...my shoulder is bruised...and I don't know about mom.

    "Tom?" the voice of my dad continued. I shook my head, and replied,

    "Oh, uh, mom and I got in a car accident. I need a ride to school." His response, which was to be expected, was,

    "Are you all right?" I nodded, but reminded myself I was on a telophone, and said,

    "Yes. Just a little...banged up."

    "How about mom?" I looked to my right, where my mom was being stuffed into the back of the ambulance vehichle.

    "I--I don't know." There was a pause, and then my dad said,

    "All right. This seems urgent enough. I'll be there in about 30 minutes." I was perplexed, to say the least, but quickly, before he hung up, I asked,

    "30 minutes? I thought you were all the way in Oregon!" Again, there was a pause, and with a nervous laugh, he replied,

    "Oh, err, I forgot to tell you...I...ha...I'm not in Oregon. Not anymore, atleast. We were transfered to a place closer to our house." When I didn't respond to that, because I really couldn't, he continued, "Where are you, anyway?" I glanced around, picking up a few street signs.

    "Orchard Road. Right across from the drug store. But you're probably going to need to pick me up at the police station."

    "All right. Good bye, Tom." Then he hung up, and the policeman asked as I handed him back his phone,

    "You got a ride?" I nodded, and said,

    "Yeah, he'll be at the police station in a couple of minutes." He started walking over to his car, and as he started to climb in, he said the thing that you would only expect from a policeman,

    "Well, I'm gonna get going. Jump on in." I nodded, and got in the car.

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    As we rode on, I thought about dad. He had been on a business trip for the past two weeks. The last time I ever saw him was when I was still a pessimistic emo thing. I looked out the window. Dad was holding something back. I was sure of it. Why would a meeting be transfered? What kind of business trp is a couple mile away? He was obviously searching for an excuse...

    I can't help but wonder if he could've made a better one.

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    Dad obviously has no sense of time, because I didn't get picked up in 30 minutes. No, I was picked up in five. Ok, honestly, 30 is hard enough to believe. Five is just...ridiculous.

    My dad look really nervous as we went over to school, and I swear, he was sweating bullets. He kept on tapping his finger to the wheel, weakly smiling at me ever so often.

    "Dad," I suddenly said. "What is going on?" My dad acted confused, as he replied,

    "I'm not sure what you're talking about."

    "Everything you've said and done to me today is all screwed up." He didn't say anything, so I continued, "Let's connect the dots. First, you were, for some reason, traferred from Oregon to a local area--" My dad suddenly defended himself and said,

    "Tom! I don't think you're--"

    "Let me finish. What kind of a business trip is 30 minutes away?" I paused, acting as though I were thinking, and then said, "Oh, wait, it wasn't 30 minutes, it was five minutes! Wait, you were five minutes away from this area, for two months, in a hotel? Do we even have hotels in this suburb areas?" My dad slumped back in his chair, and said,

    "Tom, we're here." I looked out the window. School, right in front of my eyes.

    "You need to get going," he continued.

    "Oh, that's a convenient excuse to dodge a couple of questions!" I snapped.

    "You are late as it is!" he exclaimed, his head stretched into my face. "Get going, or you're grounded!" I wanted to know what was going on, but, of course, my dad had to play the threatening game most adults did. So I had to get out, questions still brewing in my mind.

    And I turned around as I walked to school. I could've sworn I saw my dad crying.

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    ~The following is not directly related to this story. It is simply an apology letter from Tom to you~

    Dear readers,

    I apologize to my lack of including my dad in my journals. I should've explained what was going on with him a little sooner, but I guess it's too late for that.

    Oh, blimey (yes, I just said "blimey" ), whatever. What's done is done. I just pray you will all forgive me.

    From,

    Your dear, dear Tom