Chapter 14
The next few weeks are uneventful, which I have to say is a relief after the hailstorm of events that have been raining down upon me. Unfortunately, it just took one more phone call from Ms. Atawell to my dad regarding my continuing tardiness to prove him true to his word: his word, of course, being that if I was late to first period one more time, I would have to be driven to school every morning by either him or Holly. As it is, I've been "reporting" (again, his words, not mine) to the firehouse every day after school—ironically, where I am right now. This morning chauffer role on their part isn't actually that bad—although I am thanking my lucky stars that both of them work the 3-11 shift. This way I don't have to worry about being driven to school in a rig every morning.
Something else which I'm thankful about is the fact that my friends have been awesome. When I first found out about the baby and the fact that we're moving (a topic which, by the way, hasn't been discussed much; I think my dad and Holly are worried I'm going to do something rash if the whole leaving-my-childhood-home topic is broached again) I was sort of a wreck. Everyone, especially Justin and Sarah, rallied around me, most likely adopting a motto to the tune of "Kylie's having a major freak-out right now, let's all be supportive."
I like to think that I've been handling all of this really well, you know? I've been focusing on keeping things in perspective: come on, my situation isn't exactly "bring out the violin" material. Speaking of violins however (except not), Justin's been teaching me some guitar chords. Or trying to, at least. I've been under the impression for a while now that I should be making my fingers nimble and whatnot for bandaging gunshot wounds and pushing morphine—obviously into a patient: I like to think that I haven't quite gone off the deep end…yet.
I glance up at the clock. It's close to six, and I haven't made any headway on the heinous math assignment that I'm supposed to be finishing. Honestly, who assigns a book report for a math class? Come to think of it, who assigns book reports anymore, period?
No matter, I figure as I pack my math stuff away, I'll BS this later…
It takes me a while before I realize I've zoned out again. I've been sitting at my dad's desk, staring out the window for I don't know how long before the sounds of voices brings me back to the land of…Earth, I guess. It sounds like everyone's back from their respective runs, so I amble downstairs to greet everyone.
"Kylie!" booms D.K. as I stroll into the kitchen where everyone's congregating. "How ya been, kiddo? Since the last time I saw you, which was, jeez, yesterday?" everyone laughs, which is a tip-off to me. It wasn't that funny, so all the guys must be in pretty good moods to be laughing at effectively nothing at all.
"Yeah, well what can I do? Dad's orders," I answer, mocking exasperation.
"Nieto!" someone calls, and my dad appears. "What do you mean by condemning this poor girl to our house everyday?"
"Hey, it's her fault for being late to school," my dad shrugs, covering for something more.
"That's my girl," smiles Walsh appreciatively, "Always the rebel."
"Um, yeah. Whatever," I say, mimicking my dad.
The rest of the night is pretty quiet, considering the return of all the guys. I don't realize it's so late until I put my book down (I've been struggling with The Awakening for English) and see both Holly and my dad, ready to go with their coats on.
I grab my stuff and together the three of us—not including the baby, obviously, which by the way I believe at this stage of development is referred to as a blastula (maybe)—walk out of the 55 Firehouse.