“Noya?” Mum questions. “What do you want on your toast?”
“Oh… I’m not hungry,” I grumble.
“Eat,” Dad snaps.
I flinch, instinctively biting the inside of my cheek while glaring at the tiles. “Butter,” I answer Mum.
I sit at the table, the furthest away from Dad, and keep my focus down on my hand. I glare at the Band-Aid. The daily reminder that what I’ve been through is tangible, and this facade won’t last.
“Where I drop you, Noya, is where I will pick you up after school,” Dad declares after finishing his toast.
“Okay,” I breathe.
After breakfast, I brush my teeth while Dad waits by the door. A chill runs up my spine when he opens the door, beckoning me to leave first. I feel him glaringly watching me as I leave home. I imagine a leash bound to my neck, and if I venture too far, the collar will tighten, cutting off circulation until I stop and wait for Dad to move forward.
I reach for the back door when Dad clears his throat. “What are you doing? Sit at the front,” he instructs.
Without a word, I slide in beside him. I flinch when I hear the door locks click, preventing me from an easier escape. I bite my lip, peeling the skin from the flesh.
Dad reverses out, and as we drive down the street, I smile weakly at Mrs Crawford watering her garden. Her watchful eyes follow us as we pass.
“Pesky old fucking woman,” Dad grunts.
Our radio and car air conditioner still do not work, so we only hear rumbling as we hit potholes on the road. I want to wind down the window, but the handle is missing. There’s no escaping this car or the heat, and the dense smell of the car becomes a little unbearable. It smells of stale beer and has a foul odour.
Dad parks out in front of the school. I notice Sammy first. She waits by the bus stop. I go to open my door and leave quickly, but it won’t budge. My entire body stiffens, and I turn to Dad. He is glaring at me.
“Um… the door won’t open,” I murmur.
His eyes burrow into me, and I’m too frightened to look away. To feel something, I bite the inside of my lip while I wait. Yet, he keeps staring.
“Dad…”
Tearing his sights away from me, he pushes down on the button, and the door unlocks. Gripping my bag, I step out and close the door. I expect him to leave, but he stays there watching me. Feeling uneasy, I quicken my pace inside the school grounds. Once I’m in, Dad drives down the street.
I exhale the breath I had held the entire time.
“Noya!” Sammy calls as she runs towards me with Dylan hot on her trail. “Did your dad drive you to school?”
“Yeah…”
Her eyes widen a fraction as she says, “That’s a first.”
I nod in agreement.
As we walk, I scan the school grounds. My gaze flickers to the car park. Conner’s car is there, but he doesn’t seem anywhere near it. Sammy then links her arm with mine, and we head up the Block F stairs towards the room where we playDungeons and Dragons. Dylan opens the door, and my jaw drops at Conner at the table, a worried look on his face.
“What’s this about?” I ask.
“I told them your dad was dropping you off,” Conner answers, standing.
“I was instantly worried because your dad never dropped you off at school,” Sammy pipes in. “Then I thought maybe he was going to do some spy cop shit and survey the perimeter.”
“And so, I suggested hanging out here before school and at lunch and recess,” Dylan finishes with a proud look. “My drama teacher said it was cool when I saw her this morning. We just need to clean up after ourselves.”
“You… you all did this for me?” I ask.
Conner sighs as he wraps his arms around my waist. “You underestimate how much your friends care about you.”