Spark
Page 70

 Brigid Kemmerer

  • Background:
  • Text Font:
  • Text Size:
  • Line Height:
  • Line Break Height:
  • Frame:
Simon signed the same thing, his gestures full of fury. We were just playing ball. You were working.
Her father looked like he was forcing himself to stay behind the car door. He gestured, his words punctuated by fury. “Get.
In. The. Car.”
Layne swallowed. “Okay.”
“Hey.” Gabriel caught her wrist, his eyes still fixed on her father, his voice still unrelenting. “They didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Gabriel,” said Michael.
“Nothing wrong?” Her father did close the door now, stepping across the pavement. Layne had to fight to keep from backing up. “I believe we might have a different perspective of right and wrong. For instance, driving a fifteen-year-old girl across town without her parents’ permission. To say nothing of her fourteen-year-old brother.”
“Yeah?” said Gabriel, stepping forward, almost putting her behind him. Thunder cracked in the sky again, closer. “What’s so right about being ”
“Gabriel.” Michael had his brother’s arm now, and it must have been a death grip. White showed across his knuckles.
But Michael’s eyes were on her father, his tone composed. “I drove. They were just getting together for schoolwork.” He paused, and Layne thought for a moment that he was going to sell her out, to say that he’d specifically asked whether she had permission and she’d lied. “Gabriel and Layne studied in the kitchen; we played ball. I’ve been here the whole time.”
If anything, her father’s eyes turned darker. “Forgive me if I don’t find that too reassuring.”
Lightning streaked through the sky behind the houses across the street. Thunder cracked. A drop of water struck her cheek.
She could hear Gabriel’s breathing beside her, tight and furious.
Please, she prayed, remembering their exchange in her foyer.
Don’t make this worse.
“Dad,” she choked. “It was fine.”
“Layne, I’m not an idiot. And I’m not going to worry about you and Simon running around with some worthless teenager who’s a phone call away from juvenile detention ”
“Hey.” Michael took a step forward, almost toe-to-toe with her father. “He’s not worthless, and you’re out of line.”
“I’m out of line? Maybe you should think about your position before you get in my face, kid.”
“I’m not a kid. And you don’t know anything about my position. ”
“Please,” said Layne. “Just . . . it’s my fault. We’ll get in the car.”
But her father would never back down from anyone, and he was barely paying attention to her anymore. “Oh, you don’t think I had time to look you up? All I needed was a neighbor to tell me about the strange vehicle in the driveway. She wondered why my kids were getting in a landscaping truck.”
Layne flinched. Her father said landscaping truck as if she and Simon had been found scrounging in Dumpsters. Another drop of rain hit her cheek. Her forearm. “Dad stop it.”
“Clearly they survived the experience,” said Michael. “Funny how you were so concerned, but you had time to look me up.”
“You know,” said her father, his tone softening, gaining the weight of threat, “everything about you is a matter of public record. I saw the court records, the way you run the risk of being denied custody every spring. I saw the financial condition of your little company.” He paused, the way he did before delivering a final blow to a jury. She’d seen him rehearse one too many times and the pause was effective because he meant every word that came after it. “You don’t want to mess with me, kid. I can mess with you much more effectively.”
Thunder cracked, just overhead. Lightning struck a tree beside the driveway with a sound like a gunshot. Layne gave a little shriek. Branches and sparks rained down, just behind her father’s car. Some landed on the trunk.
Then real rain took over, stopping any fire before it could start. Layne shivered.
Michael shoved Gabriel back against the garage. “Are you crazy? Go in the house.”
Gabriel surged forward, but his brother pushed him back, holding him there with one hand as he turned to face her father.
Layne could see the muscle twitch in Michael’s jaw, the hard set of his shoulders. Now she saw it, the way he probably got into it with Gabriel. She held her breath, wondering if he’d throw a punch at her father. And how her father would react.
Considering how her dad was acting, she almost wished Michael would.
But Michael took a ragged breath and seemed to shore up all that anger. “I’m sorry for any misunderstanding. Maybe you should leave before the storm gets too bad.”
Gabriel jerked himself out of his brother’s grip, shoving damp hair out of his eyes. He looked like he might go after her father, but Michael gave him another shove toward the front door. “Go inside. Go.”
Gabriel took a few steps down the walkway, but stopped there, his hands in fists.
Layne was ready to get dragged to the car, but her father was still staring down Michael, ignoring the rain. She grabbed his arm. “Dad, come on.” Her voice was breaking, and she didn’t care. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t move. “Get in the car, Layne.”
She didn’t think that was a very good idea.
Thunder cracked again, and she flinched. But lightning flashed harmlessly behind the trees.
Simon stepped forward and shoved her father with his shoulder, stomping to the BMW. At the door, he turned and gave her father a gesture that didn’t need any translation. Then he slid into the backseat and slammed the door.