Lindsay’s father doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s had a few beers. He watched some TV with Joyce and Matt. He’s been waiting for Lindsay for a couple hours. She is late. And now he’s standing in her room not really thinking about the consequences (“This is my house,” he said to Joyce). He is standing in Lindsay’s room staring at what he has found there. Joyce is standing behind him. Matt is asleep – or so he assumes. Holding this crap in his hands Don isn’t sure he knows what either of his kids is doing at any moment of the day or night.
“What is it?” Joyce asks. “What is that?”
Don shakes his head. “I’ll kill her,” he says. He growls this. “I’ll kill her.”
“I don’t know what it is,” Joyce says, her voice shaking. “Don.”
“Well, it isn’t baking soda, Joyce. What the hell do you thi
