34. Ollie

I shut my locker and did a double-take. Was that my dad, walking into the building? Why was he here?

With my brows drawn together, I walked toward him, looking around. "Dad, what are you doing here?" I asked when I reached him. I'd caught up on all those bullshit assignments. He couldn't be here to talk to Ms. Melrose.

A frown crossed his face for a fraction of a second before he replaced it with a smile. "Just here to ask some questions about the handbook."

Okay, this was weird. "The handbook?"

"Yeah," he said, scratching his chin. "I, uh, you're always complaining about how you can't wear shorts with your uniform, you know, how it gets too hot. Thought maybe I could have that changed for you."

People were beginning to look at us, and dear god, the girls were checking out my dad. I just threw up in my mouth a little bit. I had to get him out of here.

"You don't have to do that," I said, walking toward the exit.

He followed me slowly. "It's not a big deal, really. And your mother said I should get more involved."

"Since when do you listen to what Mom wants you to do?" I retorted. He'd turned down at least a million requests from her to use a personal stylist and update his wardrobe. (Not that I could blame him. My stepdad had used Mom's stylist, and now he looked like he was trying to be fifteen instead of fifty.)

Dad frowned, tilting his head. "Honey."

"Don't call me that at school," I whispered, looking around to make sure no one had heard. I didn't need to look any lamer than I already did with my braces and acne. One overheard pet name, and I'd be honey for a year.

His shoulders sagged, and I felt like an asshole. "I'll see you later, Dad?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm just going to grab an events calendar while I'm here."

"Sure," I replied with a shrug and walked down the hall.

"Wait," Dad called.

I turned, trying not to be a dick. My therapist, Cecilia, said I needed to be easier on my dad. That I was misplacing my frustration. "Yeah?"

"Are you going to botany club tonight?"

I nodded.

"Pick you up at five."

With a wave, I turned to head toward the bathrooms.

Okay, so it might have been nice to wear shorts when it got hot as Hades in this freaking school, but I didn't need Dad poking his nose around. I already felt like I was living in a fishbowl with Ms. Melrose telling him about therapists.

The warning bell rang, and I looked toward the ceiling, frustrated I hadn't had a chance to piss before going to videography class with Mr. Davis. That was the one class I didn't want to miss any part of.

I hitched my backpack over my shoulders and walked through the crowd of students toward the videography classroom. One of the girls in the botany club waved at me on my way there.

"Hey," she said, "are you coming tonight?"

"I have to miss it," I said.