something totally out of my comfort zone."
Cindi
rolled her eyes at me. "It can't be that far out of your comfort
zone, not if you spent enough hours to learn that routine. I'm still
not sure when you found the time to practice without me finding out,
but I'm super impressed."
I
managed a wan smile. If Cindi and I had been better friends maybe I'd
have tried to tell her about my dreams, but as it was I was pretty
sure she just wouldn't believe me.
**
I
was still on cleaning duty as a punishment, but when we got home
Cindi volunteered to do all of the cooking by herself so that I could
get my chores done. It was a nice gesture. I knew she had an ulterior
motive behind the offer, but it was still a nice thing for her to
have done.
There
was a note on the fridge from Mom when we got home telling us that
she'd been planning on making lasagna, but that she wouldn't be home
until late because she was having dinner with a gallery owner that
had expressed some interest in her work.
With
just two of us in the house things were pretty quiet, but it was a
silence that was more companionable than normal. I called Dad when
the lasagna was twenty minutes from being done to see if he would be
home to eat with us, but I only got his voicemail, which Cindi and I
took as a good sign. Usually if he didn't take one of our calls it
was because he was on the road and hadn't heard his phone.
We
were right. Dad walked through the door five minutes before seven,
gave both of us hugs, and then the three of us sat down to eat.
Dad
asked us how our days had gone and Cindi started to tell him about my
performance at the end of practice, but I kicked her under the table
and she cut off midsentence with a hurt look. Dinner went by pretty
quickly after that. Dad loaded the dishwasher up and then retreated
to his study to finish up some of the work that he hadn't been able
to get to during the course of the day.
He
looked so worn out that I almost couldn't bring myself to go in and
bother him with my problems, but I knew he'd rather be bothered than
out of the loop so I took a deep breath and stuck my head inside of
his office.
"Hi,
Dad. I know you're busy, but could we talk for a few minutes?"
"Of
course, come on in, Adri. Is this about your punishment?"
"Actually
it's not, but now that you mention it I have been thinking about your
questions and I think that I have some answers for you."
Dad
gestured at the tiny chair stationed at the side of his desk. "Well,
which do you want to start with?"
"Your
questions, I think."
He
smiled at me like he knew that I was trying to avoid getting into the
real reason we were talking and then waved for me to proceed.
"First
you asked who I thought was the bully in my fight."
"What
did you decide?"
"I
think that we both were, at least a little. She was calling me names
and she was the one who got in my face first, but by telling everyone
there that she'd cheated on her test I put her in a position where
she felt like she had to do something to protect her image. I guess
you could say that I escalated things."
Dad
nodded. "I think you've done the situation justice. So how do
you think the fight could have gotten out of control?"
"I
don't know, I guess there are a lot of different ways. When I
scratched her I could have missed her cheek and gotten her eye
instead."
"She
had friends there, right, Adri?"
"Yeah,
why?"
"These
days friends don't always just stand by and let a fight be settled
between two people. I've read about plenty of incidents, especially
in cities like ours, where an entire group of kids jump one kid after
the fight starts. Those situations don't usually end very well,
sweetie. Usually the loser ends up in the hospital, at the very
least."
My
mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to process what he'd
just said. I'd seen some of the same kinds of headlines online, but
somehow none of that had crossed my mind, either at the time of the
fight or in the days since.
"I
guess