- Home
- Destiny Howell
Almost Human Page 4
Almost Human Read online
Page 4
“For this very reason. I didn’t want you going around trying to kill people.”
“Why not? He deserves it!”
“But do you want him dead so much that you’re willing to have blood on your hands?”
“Yes,” I answered flatly.
And it was true. I hated him so much right now that it physically hurt. But would it always be true? I was pretty heated right then. When I calmed down would I still feel the same way? Would I be able to live with myself?
I cursed a little, under my breath, at Rachel for taking the wind out of my sails, then said, with much less heat then I would have seconds before, “You didn’t have to let him go, at least.”
“Oh, don’t be so sure about that,” I could see her eyes sparkle from the rear view mirror.
“Where is he then?”
“Closer than you think.”
I looked around confused.
“Where—oh! You don’t mean the trunk?”
“Yup. Tied up, knocked out, and surrounded by silver. He’s not going anywhere.”
That image made me smile a little but I still felt strangely hollow inside. My pity party was interrupted, however, when Rachel parked in front of my house.
“Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you later I guess.”
I wasn’t exactly sure how this werewolf mentoring thing was going to work, but I was sure that I would be seeing her again soon.
“Actually, I’m going in.”
But not that soon.
“What! No, Dad’s home!”
“I know. I want to talk to him.”
“But—”
She tutted, “No buts. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”
Then she walked up to the door and knocke
18. We Have Some ‘splaining To Do
Dad opened the door, looking exhausted but not overly surprised.
“Hello Rachel.”
He pulled me from the doorway to stand by him.
“Tim.”
I wondered how they knew each other for a second until I remembered all the high school stuff Rachel had told us.
“Finn already told me what happened but I want to hear it from you.”
“OK. The kitchen then?” They both went to the kitchen, leaving me in the living room with Finn, who was lazing back on the couch. I guessed Dad had sent Darth and Calvin to bed somehow.
“He doesn’t seem too upset,” I observed.
“Nope. He already went through all the other stages of grief. You’re just in time for acceptance. You should have seen him when I got Calvin and Darth out of the car.”
I tried to picture that then shook my head. I did not envy Finn.
Finn was right though. The conversation ended pretty quickly and when they came out, Dad didn’t look like he was going to faint or be sick or explode or anything.
Rachel came over and patted me on the back, “I’ll see you soon, OK?” Then to Finn, “let’s go.”
He got up and did a little two fingered salute, “Diana. Mr. Daniels.”
Then they both left.
With them gone, the room was uncomfortably silent. I shifted my weight from foot to foot until I finally got out, “So, they told you everything?”
He nodded, “I got the cliff notes version. We’re going to have a longer conversation later.”
“You don’t look too mad.”
“Well, you’re OK and so are the boys and we only lost one window so it could be worse.”
“But still,” I pressed, “when I found out about the werewolf thing, I flipped out. Why didn’t you?”
“Oh, I did…when I found out. I didn’t find out just now.”
Even with all the drama of today, I still managed to be surprised.
“When?”
“After Mom died. Rachel told me. She thought I had the right to know. She also told me about Leon but she said he was under control, I swear. You believe me right?”
I nodded to reassure him. We lapsed into another awkward silence.
Eventually Dad said, “If you want to talk—”
“No! I mean, just not now. I promise we can talk tomorrow but I need to sleep. OK?”
“OK.”
I started walking to my bed but he stopped me again.
“Wait! It’s just that,” he took a breath, “Rachel-said-that-you-might-be feeling-out of-touch-with-your-humanity-or-not-human-or-something-phycological-like-that-because-of-the-werewolf-thing-and-I-told-her-you’d-be-OK-but-I’m-a-little-worried-about-you-and-I-want-you-to-be-OK-so-are-you-feeling-human?”
He said it exactly like that. One breath and all run together, with good reason too. My dad’s not the sentimental type, that was Mom’s job. He likes us to be tough. He doesn’t even let me take aspirin. The fact he actually asked me if I was fine instead of just saying to run it off or something else “dadish” meant that even though he was OK on the outside, he was killing himself on the inside. And that’s why I walked over to him and hugged him hard.
“Almost.”
Extras
For more by Destiny Howell, visit these links:
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/10/11/fiction-by-teens-click-is_n_1005265.html
https://enterthevenn.co.nr/