Broken Wings (Broken Wings 1)

He continued to eat without replying.

“I’ll come right back.”

Still he was silent.

“I can’t be locked up here like a prisoner!”

“Oh, let her go to the mall,” my mother said, acting as if she was now having trouble breathing.

My father glared at me.

“I shouldn’t let you out of here. You haven’t done enough yet to make up for all the trouble you’ve caused your mother and me,” he said. He paused, shaking his head. “It’s a mistake, something I’ll regret, I’m sure. Okay, but I want you back here before five, understand?”

“Yes,” I said quickly before he changed his mind.

“I mean it, Teal. If you don’t get back here by five on the dot, I’ll have you locked in your room.”

“I will!” I cried even though I had no intention of doing so. I would come up with some plausible excuse. Like he had said, I was good at it. “Can I use the SUV?”

It was the vehicle Mother was supposed to use when she went shopping, but she was still favoring the Mercedes sedan.

He put down his fork sharply.

“I’m glad you asked that. I had forgotten that I just received a serious warning from the police department concerning seven parking tickets I never knew you had gotten when you did use it.”

I shook my head.

“I don’t remember any parking tickets,” I said. I did, of course. I had merely torn them up and thrown them away. My friends at public school thought that was funny. “You know,” I added before he could speak, “I heard that for a joke some kids were taking parking tickets off the cars before the owners could find them. I’m sure we’re not the only ones the police are giving serious warnings. Call your friends at the mayor’s office if you don’t believe me. You’ll see I’m right,” I said.

“You didn’t do that, too, did you—take parking tickets off people’s cars, Teal?” he asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“No, Daddy. That’s really juvenile.”

“I’m glad something is below you,” he muttered. “Speeding tickets aren’t, however, are they?”

“I haven’t had one since…”

“And you better not have another, young lady, or driving my vehicles will become prohibited forever, understand?”

“Yes,” I said.

He picked up his fork again.

“You can take a cab both ways. You don’t need to take the car.”

“But—”

“I want you back by five,” he repeated sternly, which I knew meant the conversation was over.

“Okay,” I said in a small voice. It was never good to argue too much with him.

“We do want so much to give you things, honey,” Mommy said, reaching over to put her hand over mine. “We want you to be happy and to succeed in life, but you must improve your behavior.”

“I know,” I said, nearly whimpering. She patted my hand and smiled.

I could be so agreeable when I had to be. Inside, that second self my therapist used to talk about was laughing so hard, I thought she would break out and dance on the table.

“We have so much,” Mother went on, “so much to give you if you will just be kind to yourself first.”