Candy by Kevin Brooks Page B

remorsefully at the floor. I didn’t expect Dad to fall for it, but at least it gave me a break from the furious glare of his eyes.
    “Why do you have to do it?” he said.
    “What?”
    “Why do you always have to make things so difficult?”
    I raised my head and looked at him. “Difficult?”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “Look,” I said, “I’m sorry—OK? I know it was a stupid thing to do, and I know I shouldn’t have done it…but it doesn’t mean anything, Dad—really. It doesn’t mean I’m wasting my life—”
    “It means you’re grounded, Joe.”
    “You can’t—”
    “I can, and I will.”
    “No, but listen—”
    “No, you listen.” He leaned across his desk and gave me the look. “I’m going away at the end of next week. I’ll be gone for six or seven days. Until I get back, you’re grounded—do you understand? As of today, you’re not to go out on weekends, or after six in the evening, without my specific permission.”
    “But Dad—”
    He held up his hand. “I haven’t finished yet—are you listening to me?”
    “I just wanted—”
    “Are you listening? ”
    “Yes,” I sighed.
    “Right—it’s half term when I’m away, but the same rules apply, and I expect you to follow them without any help from Gina. She’s got enough on her plate without having to watch over you all the time. I need to know that I can trust you, Joe. I’m giving you the responsibility for your own discipline, and if you don’t take it seriously, the only person you’ll be letting down is yourself.”
    I looked at him, wanting to hate him but knowing I couldn’t. He was my dad. Whatever I felt about him, I couldn’t hate him. I could hate his stupid reasoning, though, the way he treated me like a kid but expected me to behave like an adult. Why can’t you make up your mind, Dad? I wanted to say. Either treat me like a kid or treat me like an adult, but don’t keep treating me like something in between.
    “Did you hear what I said?” he asked me.
    “Yeah, I heard.”
    “Is there a problem?”
    I hesitated for a moment, thinking about Friday’s gig. I was torn between keeping quiet about it—and sorting out something when the time came—and being honest. It was tempting to keep quiet about it, but getting to London on Friday night without Dad knowing wouldn’t be easy. If I was honest, though, if I explained how important the gig was and begged him to let me go and he said no, then he’d be forewarned, so he’d be on his guard, making it almost impossible to get away without him knowing.
    I looked at him, trying to decide how to play it. His face was calmer now. It was still deadly serious, but the fury had faded and I thought I could detect just a hint of compassion.
    Or so I hoped.
    “What about Friday?” I asked quietly.
    “Friday?”
    “You know—the gig…with the group. The Katies. We’re playing in London…I told you about it, remember?”
    “How could I forget?”
    “If you’d just let me go to that—”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “It’s only one night…”
    He shrugged.
    I said, “But it’s really important, Dad. If I don’t go, they won’t be able to play. I’ll be letting everyone down. We’ve already hired all the equipment and everything, and there’s people coming to see us. We’ve sold tickets—”
    “You should have thought about that before, shouldn’t you?”
    “Come on, Dad…you’re not being fair.”
    “Well, now you know how it feels.”
    “But you’re always telling me about taking responsibility for things. What about my responsibilities to everyone else? The rest of the group, the promoters, the people who’ve paid—”
    “That’s different.”
    “Why?”
    “Because they’re not family, they’re just…”
    “What? They’re just what?”
    He shook his head. “Don’t start twisting my words, Joe. You know what I mean.”
    “Yeah…” I said, nodding my head as if I knew what he meant but didn’t believe him.