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at all.
    She gasped, but Stephen didn’t hear her. He was gunning the bike. Then, before she could gather her thoughts, they were speeding off down the street. If she survived riding this big scary monster, it would be to come home to something even scarier—Daddy’s wrath.
    â€œHow to Deal with an Angry Father,” by Muriel Patrick.
She’d have plenty of time to write that article because she was going to be on restriction for life.

Chapter 4
    M URIEL HAD BARELY WALKED INTO her house when the fireworks started. A day early.
    She could smell her mother’s meat loaf baking but she had no appetite. Her stomach had been churning for the past two hours.
    Daddy was home and waiting for Muriel in the living room, Mother keeping him company. She looked concerned. He looked ready to explode.
    â€œWhat were you doing with that long-haired motorcycle bum?” he demanded.
    â€œHe’s not a bum,” Muriel protested. “He’s nice.”
    â€œI can tell by looking at him that there’s nothing nice about the boy. He doesn’t even have a job.”
    That showed how much her father knew. “Yes, he does. He’s working part-time at the garage.”
    Daddy pointed a finger at her. “At his age he should have a full-time job.”
    â€œNow, Joe,” Mama said in her most soothing voice. “He’s young.”
    â€œHe’s old enough to ride a noisy motorcycle all over town. He’s old enough to have a full-time job,” Daddy said, his voice rising.
    â€œThen maybe you should give him one,” Muriel suggested boldly.
    â€œI’ll do that when hell freezes over. Now, I don’t want you seeing him again.”
    â€œYou can’t tell me what to do, Daddy!”
    â€œAs long as you’re living under my roof I can,” her father roared, “and I expect you to listen.”
    He could expect all he wanted but it didn’t mean she would. She turned and stormed out of the room and up the stairs to her bedroom.
    â€œI’m not done with you, young lady!”
    But she was done with him. She kept right on going. Upstairs she slammed her bedroom door, just so Daddy would know she meant business.
    A few minutes later, a gentle tap at the door told her he’d sent a negotiator. “May I come in?” Mother asked.
    As if she had a choice? She sat on her bed and watched sullenly as her mother slipped into the room. Mother joined her and laid a hand over hers. “Muriel, your father’s only concerned about your happiness.”
    â€œNo, he’s not. If he was, he wouldn’t make snap judgments. Stephen’s fun and noble and...I love him.” There, she’d said it. Her parents needed to be aware of this immutable fact.
    Mother sighed. “You hardly know the boy.”
    â€œYou hardly knew Daddy,” Muriel argued. Her parents had met when their families were vacationing at the ocean and it had been love at first sight. They’d written letters back and forth for six months, had a total of three dates and then gotten engaged.
    Her mother gave her a reluctant smile. “I’ll talk to your father. Meanwhile, don’t rush into anything.”
    Muriel understood what that translated to. Don’t have sex; don’t get pregnant. Well, she wasn’t planning on running right out and sleeping with Stephen. But if he asked her to marry him, she’d do it tomorrow. Rather than upset her mother with that bit of information she simply nodded.
    Her mother kissed the top of her head. “Now, let’s go have dinner.”
    The last thing she wanted to do was sit across the table from her father. “I’m not hungry.”
    â€œHoney, come make up with your father.”
    Muriel shook her head. “I’m going to the street dance with Olivia.”
    It was a bold-faced lie and her mother knew it, but she pretended to be stupid and nodded. “Okay. Remember what I said, though.