Dad says very little when he gets back inside. I hear him mutter about this being 'one more thing I don't need to deal with', and like any good son, I do my very best to tune him out.

The phone starts to ring and I jump for it. Maybe it's Cassie, stranger things have happened. I clear the couch and nearly catapult the end table to answer.

"Hello," I say, making my voice a tad deeper than it usually is.

"Well, hey there, Rory. That was quite a game the other night. Did you enjoy yourself? Your Granddad and I had a real fun time," Grandma Carolyn says.

"Yeah, it was great."

"You aren't coming down with something, are you? Your voice sounds funny."

"No, ma'am, I just woke up."

"Oh, well, is your daddy around?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Tell him I just need him for a second. I promise I won't keep him long."

I turn to look at him, meet his eyes, because otherwise it would show guilt. "It's Grandma Carolyn. She says it will just take a second."

When my dad has to talk on the phone, to anybody, you'd think it was a big deal. His shoulders slump and he takes a deep calming breath before he answers.

"Perfect," he mutters. Without changing his tone, he takes the phone from my hand and answers. "Hey, Momma. Whatcha need?"

A flicker of something goes across his face, but he says nothing. He just listens and stands there. When he finally does answer her, his tone sounds different.

"What do you need Rory and I to do?"

Great, now he's going to volunteer us to do something without even bothering to check and see if it's cool with me.

"No, Momma-I'll do...Just call me if you need anything. How's Dad?" he asks, turning his back to me and planting his hand on the wall to prop himself up.

"When is it happening?" he asks a few moments later. Rhythmically he kicks the molding at his feet while he listens to her. "Cause I want to take the day off, that's why."

This one sided conversation goes on and on, until I finally figure out I am not going to get any information I can use.

I wander back to my room and flop across the bed. Things used to be so different between Dad and I. It used to be like we were on an adventure every day. I felt really lucky because he spent all his free time with me. Now it's seems like we hardly know each other. I piss him off and he pisses me off.

He comes by my room after he gets off the phone with Grandma Carolyn.

"Get dressed and get ready to go to your grandparents' house."

"Why?"

"Because I need to run some errands."

"Dad, I'm fifteen years old. In four months I'll be sixteen." I sit up, hoping he'll see that I'm not a little kid anymore. "I don't need to go stay at Grandma's house to be babysat while you go out."

"You haven't been over there in a long while. Just go spend some time with them."

I lie back on the bed, cover my face with my pillow and let go a loud groan. "I just saw them at the game," I say, my voice muffled as it passes through the pillow.

He doesn't say anything, which surprises me. I am very prepared for an argument. Instead, I hear a loud crash and when I whip the pillow off of my face, I see a hole in my wall. There is plaster dust on his knuckles and fingers as he flexes his hand.

"I said get up," he yells. He takes one step into my room.

My dad has never hit me. I don't even remember getting a spanking while growing up. But even though you've never touched hot lava, there is no doubt in your mind, it's hot.

Right now, looking into the smoldering eyes of Dean French, it's like looking down into the fiery opening to a volcano. The only problem is, I have no place to run.