Chapter 3

April trudged along the sidewalk, feeling the sheen of sweat clinging to her skin. Her father, as part of her punishment, had not registered her for the school bus, leaving her no choice but to walk home. Though the distance was merely a couple of miles from the school, for a girl accustomed to the luxury of cruising in a sleek, fancy car, the journey felt not only physically draining but also a blow to her pride. With each step, the sun bore down mercilessly, and the indifference of those around her stung like a fresh wound. None of her fellow cheerleaders, not even those she thought of as friends, offered her a ride, leaving her to walk the long road on her own.

April kicked off her shoes at the door, letting them land haphazardly, and flung her backpack against the wall with a thud. The sight of her father, dressed in a crisp business shirt and standing amidst their familiar living room, seemed oddly out of place, as if he were merely a guest visiting a stranger’s home.

“Hi, Dad. What are you doing at home?” she asked, her voice tinged with genuine surprise.

“Hi, April.” He paused, his eyes momentarily distant as if weighing the gravity of his words. “I’ve decided to cut back on travel,” he announced, each word deliberate. “From now on, I’ll be here most days.” I haven’t been a good father, and I want to change that,” he continued, his tone gentle, his gaze searching her face for any flicker of emotion.

“Cool,” she replied, her voice nonchalant, before heading upstairs to her bedroom. She craved the comfort of a hot shower, eager to shed her damp clothes and the day’s burdens.

As the water cascaded over her, she couldn’t help but reflect. Her father had spoken a truth she had long avoided confronting. If he had been around more, perhaps she wouldn’t have morphed into the vapid, shallow person she had become. The countless hours spent alone, the many times she returned to a silent, empty house, had slowly molded her into someone she didn’t even like. She pondered whether she might have turned out softer, kinder, had he been there to guide her.

Her mother had been different. April’s mind wandered back to when her mom’s laughter filled the house, a warm balm on the cool halls. Her mother was a prism of colors: bright, unpredictable, and alive in a way that made everything seem possible and vast. April thought of the times they’d spent together, cooking in the kitchen, singing off-key to old songs as flour drifted like snow, and the messy art projects that always overtook the living room floor. She had been the grounding force in their family, the one who could coax a smile out of anyone. Her absence had left their lives a shade darker, and April had often felt like her father’s distance matched the void her mother left behind. They had been a mismatched pair, her parents; her mom, a whirlwind of creativity and passion, and her dad, analytical and reserved. April wondered how her mother had seen him, if she believed there was gentleness behind his silence. She felt a surge of resentment at his choice to pull away after her mom died. Had he forgotten what it was like to be a child, lonely and aching for someone to care?

Despite her efforts to push it aside, she couldn’t shake the haunting image of her father’s eyes when he recounted his experiences of being bullied at school. His gaze seemed distant, filled with a sorrow that ran deep, as he described the relentless taunts and jeers that clung to him like a persistent shadow in the hallways. She could almost feel the coldness of those corridors, echoing with laughter that was anything but kind. Even more unsettling was the thought of herself as the female bully, trailing him with malice. The memory of his face, etched with profound disappointment, surged vividly in her mind when he was told about her prank. His eyes had darkened, a mix of hurt and betrayal swirling within them. The air between them had felt heavy, laden with unspoken emotions and the weight of a trust momentarily shattered.

———————————————————- Robert lay on his bed, unable to stop the torrent of thoughts that surged uninterrupted through his mind. No matter how hard he tried to find some peace, he was still trapped in a whirlwind of confusion and anger. He closed his eyes, as if to block out the memories flooding him, but they only became clearer and intensified. On one hand, he had now a deep-rooted disdain for April, for everything she stood for and all that she embodied—the superficial, hollow existence of a school’s queen bee. Her world was a throne of popularity and pretense, built on an altar of shallow friendships and deceit. It was a life he utterly detested. He saw her world as vapid and shallow, and couldn’t believe he’d been sucked into it. Yet, on the other hand, he was helplessly tangled in daydreams about those brief, fleeting weeks when he foolishly believed she really loved him. April was an extraordinary actress, her performance impeccable, weaving a convincing facade that left him spellbound. For a moment that felt like a sweet eternity, he had thought he was living a different life, liberated from the “dork” label that had clung to him like an unwanted shadow for so long.

But then, the harsh light of reality broke through his illusions, shattering them like fragile glass. It had all been a cruel prank, a twisted joke at his expense. Not even a single kiss, he reflected bitterly, his mind replaying the memory in vivid, unforgiving detail. April had skillfully manipulated him into waiting, leaving his lips untouched and as innocent as the rest of his naive being. He felt exposed, stripped of dignity, a pawn in her game. Even worse was that despite the wave of sympathy his public and humiliating ordeal had sparked among his peers, not a single female classmate stepped forward to swoop in and comfort him, to soothe his wounded heart. That spoke volumes about his lackluster appeal, each silent day a testament to how he was unable to spark any romantic interest. It seemed that not only did he fail to capture April’s heart, but no other girl at school wanted anything to do with him either. I’m really an April’s fool, he thought, the words stinging as they ricocheted around his mind. His heart felt heavy, too full of emotions he couldn’t name but desperately wanted to release. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes, shimmering like tiny pools of raw, unchecked emotion. He was tired of being strong and pretending he didn’t care.

In the absence of any prying eyes, alone in the solitude of his surroundings, Robert felt the softening of his resolve. The empty room gave him permission to let his guard down. He allowed the facade of strength to crumble, revealing the raw vulnerability beneath the surface. His thoughts spiraled, and he couldn’t tell if they were slowing down or speeding up. His foolishness was all-consuming, all that he could think about. “You’re supposed to be smart, Dorky-Dork”, resonated his sister’s voice in thoughtful mockery.

His sister ... That was something else entirely. He still couldn’t believe her betrayal, the unexpected sway she’d taken. Where had the nice sister who loved her brother gone? It seemed like overnight she had transformed from his closest ally to a stranger with a sharp tongue. Her change bewildered him, left him questioning what had happened to their childhood bond—their shared conspiracy in a world of adults. She used to be his partner in crime, the one who had his back when the world turned harsh and unfriendly. Now she laughed along with the cruel voices that tormented him, a conspirator in the chaos of his downfall. Her laughter was loudest of all, echoing like an unpleasant disruption in his mind. He couldn’t understand why she took so much pleasure in his unhappiness, in the public spectacle April had made of him.

Yes, she attempted to apologize afterwards, but by then, it was a futile effort. Her words felt as empty as an abandoned house, a feeble attempt to salvage the trust she had so carelessly thrown away. She insisted it had all been a prank, a harmless joke that spiraled out of control, but Robert remained unconvinced. She earnestly claimed she hadn’t thought it through, that she never envisioned the prank escalating to such a severe level. He questioned the sincerity of her remorse, pondering whether her apology was just another layer of the game she seemed to be playing. Regardless of her intentions, the sting of her betrayal pierced him deeply, leaving a lingering ache that was difficult to shake.

“Are you still up tonight?” April’s father inquired, his voice carrying a hint of bewilderment, as though witnessing an incongruity in the natural order of things. His daughter, who was usually the embodiment of energy and laughter, stood silently by her window. She gazed not at the reeling throng of the night’s promise but at the pale reflection of herself in the glass. It was a reflection that seemed unfamiliar in its solitude. April had been, for as long as he could remember, the life of every party, the pulse and rhythm of countless gatherings, a social butterfly who fluttered from one Saturday night affair to the next. She never missed a chance to be among friends, to bask in the warmth of shared jokes and the buoyant clamor that defined her weekends. Her absence from the scene was so unusual that he could not help but wonder what kept the bright lights from their customary pull. She had always been the one who stayed out the latest, who danced until the music gave out, who came home with new stories and laughter still clinging to her hair.