“This goes in the dishwasher, Patrick. That is a cabinet. You put your plate in the dishwasher and that’s where the bowl goes too.”
“He didn’t use it!” Sebastian hollered.
“Did I ask you to speak for him?”
Sebastian sighed and went back to looking at the cereal box. She shook the bowl in front of me.
“Even if you didn’t use it, you just put your grubby hands all over it. Anything you touch needs to be washed. I don’t ever want to catch you trying to put dishes away. Get off the chair and go change that shirt. The neckline is all pulled out of shape, and it’ll need to be donated. Brush your teeth, get your backpack, and be in the car in five minutes.”
I hurried to my room and grabbed a clean shirt from the drawer. When I pulled it on, I looked at all the cuts on my stomach and chest. There was a lot of dried blood.
Should I go show Dad and Raquel?
I headed out of my room and ran for the stairs but quickly stopped.
Dad already knew. He said he saw the cuts and scratches. So he knew.
I went to my bathroom and brushed my teeth. After, I pulled my shirt up and looked at the scratches.Why did Dad think I did this?
“Patrick! Get down here! We’re leaving now or we’ll be late!” Raquel yelled.
I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs. Raquel waited at the bottom of the stairs with my WWF lunchbox and handed it to me.
“There is a napkin in there. Try to use it like a big boy. If you come home with a punch mustache, no more punch. This is your last warning.”
“Have a good day at school, boys,” Dad said.
“I will. See you tonight, Dad,” Sebastian said.
“Oh my God,” Raquel said as she fanned her hand close to her face. “I think I’m going to cry. Hearing my baby call you Dad is so precious. Sebastian has needed a dad for so long.”
Dad wrapped his arm around Raquel and then kissed her.
“It’s nice to be called Dad. I’ve been a father for almost eight years and have yet to be called that.”
I’m sorry.
I felt really weird by the time we got to school. My stomach hurt, and I ached all over. After I got out of the car, I walked to the spot where my classroom lined up and waited for the bell. By the time the bell rang, I stiffly walked to the end of the line.
On Mondays the teacher gave us some time to free write in a composition book. It could be about anything, which was why I liked it. There weren’t rules, and she didn’t even read them. She said it was just a time for us to write whatever we wanted. Usually, I wrote about something I saw on TV or a movie I was excited to see. I also wrote about things Dad would ask me or say about me, and the things I wanted to say back to him.
I opened my composition book and flipped to the first blank page. I wrote the month and my grade at the top and put my Garfield pencil to work.
April– First Grade
Everything you said was a lie.
You said I’d like having a brother.
You said I’d like having a mom.
You said I’d be happy.
You said you’d read to me.
You said you’d teach me to throw.
You said my stomach would stop hurting.
