To Hell and Back Read Free Page B

acceptances from the community college. I’ve been calling in each student on the list to see if they have made any decisions or need any help from me.”
    I am almost dizzy with the relief I feel. It’s panic-inducing to be called to speak with someone when you have so much to hide.
    “I haven’t really decided anything yet. I’m waiting on some other colleges I applied to. I’ve also sent in all of my financial aid applications, so I’m all set. Thanks for checking on me, though,” I tell her as I pull my bag up over my shoulder. I reach for the doorknob, indicating that I have nothing more to say, but as I start to turn the handle, she says my name.
    “Brielle, just remember, if you need anything, I’m right here in this office. For anything,” she stresses the last word, stressing my nerves at the same time.
    “Thanks, Ms. Bailey, I appreciate that.  I’ll see you later.”  I pretty much fly out the door, glad for the conversation to be over. 
    My bus is just pulling up as I get outside. I take a deep breath and climb on board, not really wanting to stay at school, but definitely not thrilled about going home.
     
    ***
     
    Walking in the door to my house, I can hear Hank on the phone with one of his buddies. It sounds like there is going to be a poker game somewhere tonight and Hank is bringing Sheila, the bar slut from last weekend.  At least he won’t be around to harass me.  Maybe I can finally have a peaceful Friday evening and get some homework done instead of waiting on Hank hand and foot before cramming all my work into the late hours of Sunday night. 
    Daydreaming about the effortless pot pie I am going to have for dinner and the freedom I will have to play whatever music I want, I almost miss the knock at the door.  I hear another, more forceful knock and Hank yells “Hang on just a damned minute!” I hear him tell his buddy goodbye and head for the front door.  I am not allowed to answer the door for any reason. Once, when I was fifteen, a teacher got suspicious that I might be having trouble at home and showed up on our front steps.  I answered and let him in.  He and Hank talked for a good fifteen minutes. Hank, of course, reassured him that there was absolutely nothing to be concerned about.  He explained that my mother had died a few months before, which all of my teachers already knew, and that we were just “adjusting”. That mistake cost me six weeks in a cast for a broken wrist.  We just told everyone I’m really clumsy and I fell down the stairs.  The local police don’t like to take too long a look at one of their own, so Hank’s stories always seem to be accepted at face value.
    I peek around the corner from the kitchen to see who is crazy enough to show up here and for a second, it looks like Carson.  I quickly duck back into the kitchen to get my head on straight.  I put my hand to my forehead to make sure my fever hasn’t returned.  Yeah, Brie, Carson Malone just happened to be so worried about you that he came back to your house to check on you a week later.  I had better find the thermometer. I look back around the corner, but Hank is blocking me from seeing who is standing there. The unlucky visitor is definitely getting an earful. 
    “No, you cannot see my daughter!  Who the hell do you think you are? I don’t know you! I don’t have any patience for strangers who show up unannounced. Especially when they want something from my little girl.”
    I can hear murmuring from outside but no actual words. Hank, however, is hearing something he doesn’t like and running his hand through his thinning hair in frustration. “Oh, so you fell for that sob story? She was so sick, poor thing. A damned head cold and the girl can’t think straight! She was fine and is fine without any help from you.”
    More murmuring and I’m seriously hoping against the one-in-a-million chance that it’s Carson because if I thought passing out in front of him was bad, then