It's funny to me how easy that was. I mean, come on. With everything I've been doing wrong, setting up a date with Naiya seemed like an impossible task. But here I am, sitting at the breakfast table on Sunday morning, prepared to catch a movie with Naiya Huynh later this evening.

Just like that.

"You seem to be in an oddly good mood," Stef comments, sipping from a mug of coffee and leaning against the counter.

I shrug. "I've got a date tonight." I try to say it as nonchalantly as possible.

Stef's lips grow into a soft smile. "Really? With who?"

"Her name's Naiya. We're gonna go see some spy movie."

John, who had been watching TV in the living room, suddenly turns to me. "You're gonna do what?" He asks, his voice almost interrogative.

"He's got a date tonight, John," Stef answers for me.

John lowers the volume on the TV and with a grunt, walks over to the kitchen. "Not gonna happen," he says simply, sliding past Stef and opening up the fridge.

"What do you mean?" Stef asks, keeping her tone even and sipping cooly from her mug.

"I told him not to go to the party on Friday and he did. So he can't go on the date." He groans as he reaches deeper into the fridge. John pulls back a carton of creamer before turning to me. "In fact," he outstretched his free hand, "give me your keys."

I furrow my eyebrows. "What? No."

"Give me the keys, Easton," John starts to raise his tone. He moves his hand up and down.

"John," Stef starts to say, "just let hi–"

"I said no!" I see a hint of a red splotch on his cheeks as he raises his voice. "Give me the damn keys, Easton!"

"No."

John slams down the carton of cream and I watch as a few stray white droplets fly into the air. He takes a few long breaths. He's calming down and for some reason, that scares me more than if he had just yelled. Then John's hands reach out to me. It's as if I'm watching it in slow motion, the way his muscular arms stretch out from him. He cups his fingers around my shoulders and lifts me up out of my chair like I'm a child. Then, suddenly, he slams my back against the refrigerator. A few magnets drop to the floor. Stef shrieks.

"You listen to me, son," John says slowly, his breath hot against my face. It smells like sausage and I hold my breath. "You give me the keys and you're gonna stay in this house. You're gonna wash the dishes, you're gonna vacuum the living room, and you're gonna do your homework. Now," he pauses for a moment, licking his lips, "I'm gonna take your phone and after that, you do what I told you. Got it?" I watch as his right hand moves slowly down to retrieve the phone in my back pocket. He stuffs it into his own jeans. "Got it?!"

"Got it," I repeat back to him, attempting to swallow the lump that's formed in my throat. He lets me go and I slump against the refrigerator.

"Got it?" John repeats, but not to me. To my mom, eight years ago.

My mom was crying. Damon and I watched from the end of the hallway. He had an arm over me, protecting me.

"Got it?!" John asked a second time, his voice a little louder. He slammed his fist beside her head and the paintings on the wall shook.

Mom then looked up at him, her teeth gritted and her eyes determined. "Get away from me!" She screamed as she pushed him back. Her voice was low and steady, strength oozing out from her tongue.

John stared at her for a moment and then, to our horror, he began to laugh. He turned to Damon and I. "Can you believe that?" He said through forceful laughs. "She wants me to get away from her. If I recall correctly," he turned back to her. "You were the one who cheated. Not me."

"I never cheated," Mom spat back at him. To this day, I still believe her.

"And I never hit you," John said back to her. "Now we're even."

Not barely a week later, John moved out.

I haven't seen him that angry in a long time. He yells a lot, sure, but mostly it's all bark and no bite. Today, though, I tasted a hint of what he was like eight years ago.

I think I brought it out of him.

Throughout the day, I cede to John's command. Frankly, I'm scared that I had reverted John back to his dark days. He's watching TV now as I pour over an essay that's due tomorrow. Every so often he glances at me, making sure I'm doing what I've been told and every so often, I ask if I can get my phone back to cancel my plans with Naiya. He always declines.

It's six-thirty now, half an hour before the movie starts. Fifteen minutes before I'm supposed to meet Naiya. Five minutes before I'm supposed to leave the house.

"I'm done with my homework now," I lie. John and Stef who are now sitting on the couch together turn to me. Something on the stove crackles and an ad for Colgate toothpaste flashes across the TV.

"We should let him go," Stef says softly, running her hand along John's chest. "I don't want him to stand up the girl." I've stood up my friends before, but they understand. With Naiya, it's different.

John remains stubborn. "He should have thought of that before he chose not to listen to me."

I persist. "Please just let me–"

"I said no, Easton." Though in the past, that line would never have stopped me from continuing, I feel as though tonight I should just listen to him.

I swallow and as I do, I feel a lump forming at the back of my throat. Stupid, I think, both at the lump and at John. "Can I at least call her?"

With a groan, John reaches into his pocket before tossing the phone to me. "Stay here," he says just as I'm about to stand up. I nod and sit back down again.

"Hey," Naiya greets. Her voice sounds different on the phone, but I don't mind.

"Hey," I say back, eyeing John and Stef. "Have you left yet?"

"I'm about to. Why?"

I swallow and wet my lips. John's staring at me. "Listen I–my dad won't let me go anymore." I pause, waiting to see if she wants to interject. She doesn't. "I'm really sorry and I swear I'll make it up to you."

I'm done now but it takes a moment for Naiya to respond. "Is it because you went to the party?"

"Yeah." Another pause. "I'm really sorry, Naiya," I say again.

"I know. See you later Easton." And then she hangs up the phone.

• • • • • • • •

When Monday finally rolls around, John is still refusing to give me back my phone. What's worse is that the bell rings before Zach and Naiya get to our usual morning spot. I don't get the chance to talk to her before I head to my first class.

During lunch, Naiya sits with her usual group of friends. She glances over at my table a few times, but her eyes glaze over me. They don't linger.

"So what happened with the date with Naiya, Easton?" Zach asks as he dips a chicken tender into some ketchup.

"You had a date with Naiya?" Ace asks in surprise, turning towards me.

"Had," Zach repeats. "He bailed."

Ace's eyes widen. "You bailed?"

I sigh. "Not on purpose. My dad wouldn't let me go."

"John?" Dylan asks for clarification.

"Yeah. John."

The group is silent for a minute before Dylan speaks up again. "So where's Cooper? Usually it's Ace that skips Mondays, not him." Ace nods in agreement.

Zach swallows the food in his mouth before saying "He told me that he and–what's her name–"

"Jenna," Dylan says.

Zach continues. "Yeah. He and Jenna are skipping."

"I bet they're in his bedroom right now," Ace adds with a wide grin.

"Yeah no kidding," Zach comments. "I don't think he's ever said more than a sentence to those girls."

Across from me, Dylan looks down at his tray and shoves a carrot into his mouth. I can't really tell what expression he has on his face, but I'm guessing he knows something the rest of us don't.

I think Dylan knows a lot. He's an observer of sorts and is probably the most level-headed and understanding of the group. If I were to tell anyone about the incident, it would probably be him.

It's ridiculous for me to keep it hidden from them, honestly. But I can never find the right time to bring it up and besides, I'm pretty sure they all know anyways. Not the full story, but enough to understand. I mean, come on. I'm pretty pathetic at keeping secrets.

• • • • • • • •

On Tuesday, the soccer team is dismissed near the end of the last block. We have an away game about two hours northeast of Halson.

"Easton!" Coach yells when I get onto the bus. "Why don't you sit up front."

I look out and the rest of the team is staring at me from over their seats. I press my lips together and sit across from Coach. Thankfully, my friends move and join me up front, sitting in the row behind Coach and I. They make chat among themselves, leaving Coach to say whatever he has to say to me privately.

"Make sure you drink enough water during the game," he says. "If you feel dizzy or anything, I don't want you to push yourself too hard. This isn't the World Cup or anything. You're allowed to give yourself a break."

"Okay," I tell him.

Then Coach leans closer to me, lowering his voice. "Are you sure you're doing okay?" He pauses. "Mrs. Pier called me earlier today. Says you haven't been getting much sleep lately and told me to keep an eye on you."

Of course Stef called him.

"I'm okay," I say with a nod. "I'm not too tired." It was a lie, I was pretty tired. It doesn't bother me during games, though. It's like when dancers go on stage. Everything that hurts or aches, all the drama behind the curtains, it's all forgotten once the music starts.

I was right to assume I'd be fine. In fact, once the whistle blows and the ball is kicked, my head is in the game. Like that High School Musical song. I feel the wind tousle my hair, listen to the sound of my ragged breaths, and it's in this moment that I smile. This is what truly makes me happy, I think.

I even manage to score a couple of goals. I'm ferocious towards the ball. My feet are quick. My mind is steady. Everything is within reach, within my realm of capability.

The ball moves willingly between my feet. It reminds me of the water droplets in Kung Fu Panda 3, complete control and finesse. I'm not alone, either. My teammates and I pass the ball back and forth between each other, dodging the opposite team easily. The goal is in sight and I can hear the crowd cheering for us. And I can hear them cheering for me as Ace quickly passes. I have the ball now and suddenly, I see an opening. With one swift motion, I kick the ball forward. The goalie misses. It takes only a blink for the ball to reach the net.

I score another goal almost the same way.

We win the game.

My teammates clap me on the back as we head back to the benches on the side of the field.

"Great job out there, East!" Coach yells as I pass by him. He pats my shoulder approvingly. Man, for those of you who don't do sports, having your Coach give you a pat on the back and say "great job" is really one of the best feelings ever.

Maybe the past few days have been a little more sucky than usual, but after this game, maybe things will start looking up.

What really makes me feel good is knowing that from somewhere, my mom is watching me. I bet she was cheering so loud when I scored that goal. She must be so proud, I bet.

"Wow Easton!" Mom said to me when I was about five or six. I can still feel the weight of that small medallion around my neck. "You did so good out there."

"Did you see me make the goal, Mom?" I asked, swinging our intertwined hands back and forth.

"I saw the whole thing!" Her grin was just as big as mine in that moment. I didn't know it then, but her smiles would become less and less often seen.

Damon who was walking beside me ruffled my hair. "You did really good, bud."

"Maybe I'll be better than you someday!"

Damon smirked and shook his head. "Not gonna happen."

Mom laughed, a sound that was light and wonderful. I miss that sound so much. "Oh my boys," she cooed, wrapping her arms around our shoulders in a hug. "How about we get some ice cream? Does that sound good?"

"Ooh! Can we get waffle cones?" Damon asked.

"Yeah please?" I said after him, craning my head to look up at my mom. Mom cast her gaze over to John. He smiled and nodded his head.

"Yay!" Damon and I shouted, running out of Mom's arms and wildly sprinting towards the car.

That night, John gives my phone back to me and I call Naiya. It takes a little bit before she answers.

"Hey," she says. This time her tone doesn't hold the same lightness it did before.

"I'm really, really sorry." I drag out the words carefully. "I'm going to make it up to you."

Naiya sighs. "It's fine, Easton. You're dad didn't let you go. It happens."

I pause for a minute and I wipe the palm of my hand on my pants. "Friday night, are you free?"

"Yeah," she answers after a moment. "I'm free. What are you thinking?"

"I have a surprise," I tell her and with that, I end the call.

I feel better tonight. I mean, it'll still be awhile before I can truly be happy with my life, but I think I'm healing. Maybe it'll only be for just one night, but it's been a while since I truly felt this excited and this relieved before. I did what makes me happy today. I played soccer and I talked to Naiya. I mean, those are the things that actually make me happy, not drinking or yelling at John.

As I lay in bed, I think that maybe I can change. I can bring up my grades. I can stop disobeying John. I can stop making everyone worry about me. And maybe, just wishful thinking, maybe I can fall in love too.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Thank you for reading!
Likes and comments always appreciated.

As always,
xoxo. Emmy