The clang of metal echoed down the hall as someone slammed their locker shut. The sound jolted me, sharp and startling, but not enough to drag my head fully into the present.
Taylor’s voice carried on beside me, a steady stream of words, sharp and clipped with irritation. He was pacing through some story about how someone had pissed him off this morning, something about a guy in the gym shoving past him without apologizing, or maybe it was about the math teacher who refused to give him credit for late homework. I couldn’t tell anymore. His words blurred together into background noise, like static, because my mind wasn’t here.
It was back in the hallway of our house last night. Back with my mom’s trembling voice. Back with the word “divorce.” Back with him.
Dad.
The name alone left a so
