Chapter Seven - Cameron

Cameron stalked home, kicking pebbles as he went. How could his parents not tell him that his sister was moving back home for a few months? It had been two years since she’d last visited, and they hadn’t thought to make a big deal out of it? Theresa had made up a lame excuse about not being able to return home the previous year for Christmas, though Cameron didn’t blame her. Everything about being home was depressing nowadays. Ever since his dad had been injured, and then the company immediately laid him off without compensation, things had been rough. The steel factory had known Cameron’s dad wouldn’t be able to return to work for a long time, if ever, and—legal or not— they’d cut their losses.

Now it was Cameron’s mom who picked up the slack as a receptionist at the urgent care medical clinic. She worked long and odd hours, and though Cameron’s parents had once been full of life and optimism, that had all changed. To be fair, they had tried to keep things as normal as possible. His mom was exhausted but still took the time to decorate for the holidays, and he knew she’d still be making their traditional food—even if some of the ingredients would come from the food pantry that year. And his dad—he tried to help cook meals and clean up during the day, and he always had a smile and a corny joke ready for Cameron when he walked through the door. But without anything else to do, he had become a shell of the man he had once been.

The one saving grace in Cameron’s life had been the swim team. But then he’d had to go and do something stupid.

Okay, that wasn’t fair, that prank had been funny. Hilarious, even. No one else seemed to think so, though, and he had been suspended from the team and stuck in the school play. Which apparently now included his sister.

What was she doing here? Had guilt brought her back? Cameron doubted his parents had asked her to return. They wanted to act like everything was as it always had been. But it wasn’t. And they couldn’t accept that.

Cameron’s phone chimed with a new text, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

It was from Theresa.

Where are you? Mr. Kent is not happy.

Cameron had honestly not been thinking about what would make Mr. Kent happy when he left early.

Wasn’t feeling well.

It was mostly true. He hadn’t been feeling well; in fact, he’d been feeling pretty crappy. It wasn’t more than a moment before the next text came through.

He says you better be on time and stay for every rehearsal from this point forward. Your spot on the swim team depends on it.

Cameron growled in frustration and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He hated that they could hang that over his head anytime they felt like it. Do this, or else. He didn’t want to be anyone’s puppet.

Another text chimed, but he ignored it this time. Theresa would have plenty of time to threaten him when she got home. She hadn’t seemed surprised when she saw him in the auditorium rather than at swim practice, and he wondered when she’d learned about his…situation.

Too quickly, Cameron found himself staring up at his two-story house. He put off going inside for another minute. His dad would ask how swim practice had gone—he hadn’t told his parents he’d been suspended, though they would know soon enough. Theresa would see to that.

A brisk wind sneaked through Cameron’s sleeve. He gave in and pushed through the front door to escape the chill.

He had only made it a few steps through the entryway when he heard “Cam?”

His dad strode in from the kitchen. He wore an apron and brandished a spatula like a weapon. Cameron’s dad burst into a grin when he saw his son and hugged Cameron with his good arm. The other still sported bandages, hiding the grotesque burns that lay beneath. “It’s a bit early to be home from practice, isn’t it?”

There it was.

Cameron could have continued lying, as he had been for the past three weeks, by telling his dad it was all good. He hated to lose the big smile his dad always wore and add more worry lines. But his dad had always stressed honesty, and if Cameron didn’t come forward and finally tell the truth, it would be significantly worse when it was Theresa who broke the news.

“Yeah, about that,” he started. The words stuck in his throat, not wanting to come out. “See, the thing is…”

His dad’s smile dipped, and his brows furrowed in concern. “Did something happen?”

Cameron gave a slow nod. “I’m suspended from the team.”

The words hung in the air, spiraling around them. His dad’s mouth opened in surprise. Apparently that was not what he had been expecting. “But you’re the best they have. They need you,” he finally said.

Cameron shook his head. Typical. His dad always seemed to give Cameron a pass on things, never thinking anything was his fault. Theresa, on the other hand—they blamed her for everything. “Don’t you want to know why they suspended me?”

“It can’t have been for a good reason. They’re just picking on you. Jealous.”

With a huff of frustration, Cameron said, “Dad, Blair’s mom isn’t jealous of me. Neither is Coach Kall or Mr. Kent.”

His dad paused, an eyebrow raised. “Who is Mr. Kent?”

Oh yeah, Cameron hadn’t gotten to that part yet.

“The drama teacher.” When his dad still gave him a blank look, he said, “That Theresa is doing her student teaching with?”

His dad’s expression darkened for just a moment. “Oh.”

Cameron took off his backpack and leaned it against the wall. “Why didn’t you tell me she was coming back?”

His dad gave a small shrug.

“You’re seriously still mad at her?”

At least his dad had the decency to look guilty before he collapsed into a chair at the dining room table. He held his injured arm close to his chest. “What good is a degree in theater? She wants to make money by walking around on a stage. It doesn’t mean anything—it’s not real work. It doesn’t have any value.”

“Maybe not to us. But she wouldn’t be doing it if she didn’t think it had value.”

His dad grunted.

Cameron saw this conversation wasn’t going to go any better than the last time they’d had it. “Back to me. And my suspension.” It bothered him that his dad didn’t care what Cameron had done. Parents were supposed to get after their kids—try to teach them right from wrong. Not make excuses for them.

“What about it? You were suspended. Fine. Their loss. It will give me more time with you in the garage.”

Oh, yes. Of course. His dad didn’t care because he saw swimming as a hobby for Cameron. Not something that would help him get a scholarship like his sister had done. Or maybe that was what his dad was afraid of—that Cameron would go off to college instead of working as a welder in the steel shop. Real man’s work.

“Actually, it won’t.”

His dad raised an eyebrow. “Because…”

“Because I pulled a prank on the drama club, and as a life lesson, I have been cast in the school play. I will have rehearsals most afternoons, and some Saturdays as it gets closer to Christmas.” It all rushed out in one breath. There. Now his dad knew the truth. His son was not going to be learning to weld in their garage, but would instead be prancing around on a stage—just like his sister.

His dad stood so quickly, his chair toppled backward. His face turned magenta as he sputtered, trying to find the words that would match what he was feeling. Apparently there were none, because he didn’t say anything as he strode from the kitchen.

Cameron noticed ground meat in a pan, looking quite well done, and the stove was still on. “Uh…do you want me to finish making dinner for you?”

In response, a spatula came flying through the air from the other room. It landed with a clatter on the kitchen floor.

Well…that went well.

Cameron added taco seasoning to the meat, then shot a quick text off to his sister.

I just told Dad about my suspension…and the play. You might want to wait a bit before coming home. Maybe eat out for dinner.

Theresa sent back an icon of a girl doing a facepalm.

Yeah, Cameron’s feelings exactly.