Chapter Four

Part 4

I sat outside on the front steps of my house for a long time, feeling morose and dejected, wondering what the hell I was going to do next. It was a cool October evening, and a tranquil breeze rustled the leaves in the trees on our front lawn. I took a deep breath, hoping it would clear my head. Fall was my favorite time of year, and I normally loved this type of weather. It meant football and pep rallies and parties. I usually found it energizing. But tonight I couldn’t have felt more lethargic. The very idea of walking into my house exhausted me.

My parents were in the living room, watching TV, oblivious to the reprehensible transgression their son had just committed. I couldn’t disclose to them what I had done. Just imagining the looks of disappointment they would throw at me made me sick to my stomach. My flagrant disregard for their rules, for their beliefs, would crush them. I had always been the paradigm of the perfect son—working hard, getting good grades, succeeding at sports. I had never given them a single reason to have a modicum of doubt in me. And now, in one night, I had killed all that.

I had to find a way to fix this before they got our bank statements and saw the discrepancy between this one and the last. And until I did, keeping the secret from my parents was paramount.

I took a deep breath, forced myself to stand up, and went inside. There they were, cuddled up together on the couch. The scenario was so placid and normal, it almost didn’t make sense to my off-kilter brain. My mom looked up from the TV when she saw my shadow.

“Hi, Michael! Did you have fun at Ian’s?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said automatically. “We just hung out with some of the guys. Nothing big.”

I couldn’t believe how lucid I was, considering that my life was flashing before my eyes. I was supposed to venerate my parents, not deceive them right to their faces. Maybe I should just tell them. Maybe they would be lenient. Maybe they wouldn’t hate me. But even as I thought about it, I knew it was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

“Are you okay, son?” my father asked. “You look kind of pale.”

“Actually, I think I ate too much junk food,” I told them. “I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“Okay. I’ll come in and check on you in a little while,” my mom said with a smile.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said.

Then I turned toward the hallway and got out of there before I could break down. Back in my room, I closed the door and lay down on my bed, staring up at the ceiling with my fists at my temples. My breath was short and panicked. What had I done? What was I going to do? I had no ideas. Zilch. Zero. Nada.

I took a deep breath and I tried to force myself to chill. I needed to calm down and think. It was just one digression. I would fix it. I had to. I just had to attack this problem with the fervency with which I had I attacked every other obstacle in my life.

Unfortunately, I had no idea where to begin.