Page 5 of Roped

Me: I know. But I’m not lying to you. I wouldn’t do that.

Dad: Good. I’d hate to see things sour between us after all this time.

By that he means ever since I was ten. When I realized what kind of a monster my father is and what the repercussions of crossing him could be. Not just for me but for people I love.

Thirty minutes later, I’m opening the door to my apartment that I share with my best friend, Reverie. The churning in my belly due to my father’s threats gets thrust aside as soon as I see her sitting on our plush gray couch. Something is wrong. I can sense it. She has her textbooks open on the glass coffee table in front of her, but her eyes seem unfocused. As if whatever she’s thinking about is taking up all her attention. And that never happens. Nothing is more important to my best friend than her books. Nothing holds precedence over homework and classwork and assignments. She’s smart. She’s studious. She’s the most hardworking and dedicated person I know.

Carefully closing the front door behind me, I greet, “Hey.”

She flinches, as if waking up from sleep, and darts a glance over at me. “Hey.”

I walk in farther and toss my clutch on the armchair on the way over to her on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she answers, her tone breezy but fake. “How was your date? You’re back early.”

Ignoring her change of subject, I take a seat beside her and say, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing—”

“There’s something wrong.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m totally fine. Everything’s—”

I hold up my hand to stop her. “Look, we can either go back and forth like this, where you tell me nothing’s wrong and I don’t believe you because you’re clearly lying. Or we can skip over all this and you just tell me. Because we both know I’m not going to give up, and you have an early class tomorrow that I don’t think you want to miss.”

She watches me for a few seconds before stating in her most authoritative voice, “You know, you should try that sometime too. Going to the morning classes.”

“If I did, then I wouldn’t have my eight-hour beauty sleep,” I quip. “And you know how much I hate dark circles.”

“You should also try going to sleep at a decent hour.”

“I will. When I’m forty or something.”

“You—”

“I know you’re trying to turn this around on me right now,” I speak over her. “But I hate to tell you, Riri, I invented that shit, okay? I’m the queen of distractions. You can’t fool me. So why don’t you just tell me why you look all freaked out like you got a B on your test?”

Still, she tries to dodge my question. “I’d never get a B on a test.” Then, “Well, except for stupid sociology. But I still think the professor has it out for me, and—”

“Riri. Talk. Right now.”

She throws me a look before sighing in defeat. “It’s Friday.”

It takes me a second, but then I go on alert. I was so busy focusing on my date tonight and how to get out of it in a way that wouldn’t cause any blowback—which didn’t really work out—that it completely slipped my mind. Fridays are important for my best friend, which means I make sure to be there for her every week. Well, except tonight. I fucking hate my father.

“You got a letter,” I murmur.

She jerks out a nod because the reason why Fridays are so very crucial for Reverie is because, like clockwork, she gets a letter that we both know she eagerly waits for. “I did.”

“And? What does it say?”

She swallows and I slide down to the edge of my seat, my heart banging in my chest. Not a lot of things can do that to me. I’m not easily scared or distressed. Well, except when it comes to my father, but I have a very good reason to be. Other than that, though, I’m strong. I’m brave and resourceful. Mostly because I have to be, but still.

When Reverie doesn’t immediately reply, I go even more tense. I fist my hands in my lap as I ask, “Was he mean to you? Did he say something mean to you today? Because if he did, Riri, I swear to God—”

“He’s getting out,” she says, cutting me off.

“Out.”