Personal Effects Read Online Free PDF Page B

ribs, and finally ruffles through my hair, feeling my skull.
    He must be satisfied, because in one fluid move he gets up, grabs his drink, and pushes his chair back under the table with his foot. In the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, he turns and uses his drink to signal for my attention, like I would take my eyes off him until he was out of the room.
    “You’re out of school until next Tuesday. Pendergrast wanted you to do some bullshit in-school suspension for part of it, but I told him where to go. No one is putting you on display for doing what needed doing.”
    I nod again, accepting the time.
    “So, get some sleep. Take it easy for a few days. But don’t think you’re gonna laze around the house for the next week. You’ll need to work. That display case is gonna cost a chunk.”
    Great.
    “And from what I hear, you’ve got some serious studying to do.” He narrows his eyes. “We talked about this, after the midterm reports.”
    Yeah, the side of my head still remembers the slap that ended that little chat.
    “Hey.”
    I clench my teeth to stay quiet.
    “Failing? Not an option.” His eyebrows climb. “You want to piss away any chance at college? I can’t really stop you.” Another sip, and then the glass is in motion as he waves it for emphasis. “Means no ROTC. No Officer Candidate School. You want to throw all that away? Fine. But if you think you’re going to blow finals, flunk out, and that’ll be it? Get you out of college
and
enlisting? Think again, boy.”
    I press my split knuckles against my leg to keep still.
    He takes a step back toward me and stops, like something is holding him back from coming all the way over here, something I should be very thankful for.
    “If I have to sit on your ass for the entire time it takes you to get your GED, kick it every day until you are enlistment eligible, I’ll do it. It’ll suck for both of us, but if I have to drag you every step, I’ll get you there.”
    I force myself to stay still. If he comes any closer, I may not be able to keep from running.
    He points at me with his nondrink hand. “I am not gonna watch you implode.”
    It’s not like it’s my life or anything.
    “You hearing me?” He shifts his feet.
    “Yes, sir.” Reflexive and voice cracking, but enough to keep him where he is.
    “Time to get your ass in gear. Or so help me . . .”
    He turns fast and leaves the room, the words hanging behind him.
    I stay at the table until I hear the groan of his recliner and the hiss-click of the TV turning on. I wait for the garbled sound of twenty-four-hour news and the creaking shifting of Dad’s weight settling down. Only then do I let my shoulders relax and release my tired legs. It’s safe to find something to eat and head to bed. He’s done for the night.
    I choke down half a bowl of soggy cereal before my stomach revolts. Leaning into the cold edge of the table, I breathe through my nose, trying to hold off the puke. Sour burn crawls up the back of my throat. And I’m right back there, six months ago.
    I was sitting right here, debating between eggs and grilled cheese, chugging the last of the orange juice straight from the carton, when I felt something crawling over the back of my neck. I turned my head toward the door, spilling juice all over my chin and down the front of my gray T-shirt. I was halfway to the door, nearly empty carton still in my hand, when I heard them on the front steps. I opened the door before they even rang the bell. I knew. Before I even saw the uniforms, I knew.

T HE UNIFORMS ASKED FOR D AD AND THEN DIDN ’ T SAY another word. I had trouble getting anything out loud enough to carry upstairs, and I couldn’t move.
    All I could think was
T.J. is dead.
    When I got my voice to work, it took three yells before Dad cursed and stomped down from upstairs. He was ready to rip me a new one for making him come to me, but then he saw me, and then them, and he missed the last step, landing with a