Day 85

School is still going good, I guess. Nothing's changed, really. Lessons are still the same as usual – Science and Art are my favorites, the others don't matter all that much to me. I still haven't spoken to anyone.

When I got back from school a couple of days ago, Dad hadn't come home. It was no surprise, really, since these days he's always staying out and not coming home until late – or rather, the early hours of the morning. By that time his mind is fuzzy with bottles and he shouts. But this time was different.

I ignored the problem at first, but then when I woke up in the morning and ate breakfast and got ready for school and he still wasn't home, I realised it was different. Mom's eyes were redder than usual, and she looked like someone had stamped on her heart. Namely, Dad. Before I had chance to say anything, she told me to have a good day at school, and that everything was going to be fine. I thought it was a strangely casual thing to say. I forgot about him at school, then when I came back home Mom's mouth was set down permanently. The next morning was the same – I didn't comment about anything to Mom, but she still reassured me. This morning, he still hadn't come back. I can almost smell Mom's purple scent of worry now, the same color as the smudges under her eyes and also some remaining flowers left over from last time Dad was at home. I do hope she'll be okay. But she always is…

After school, I've started walking home. In the summer, Mom sometimes used to drive down the same route that I would be using to walk home, just so I knew the way for sure. It did help. It takes about forty-five minutes, but I've started an after school art club on Wednesdays, so then it's an hour later when I get home. Before I forget, I might as well write a little about Art club. It's fun, and I love it because I get to choose whatever I want to draw. It's not like other subjects, where you have to learn and write about certain topics – I can do what I like. Also, Miss Safran thinks it could help me improve in lessons too. I think I might be better as an artist than a doctor. Though I suppose operating on someone sort of is an art form.