So What's Your Favorite Flavor?

“I would hate to see what happens outside of class affect your behavior in class.”

And I wonder what Ms. Miller would look like without a head.

“I would really like it if we could be friends one day.”

I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

Ms. Miller peers down the hallway, “Well…it’s Tuesday, so your dad is picking you up, right?”

 “Right.”

She looks at me again to see if I’ll say anything else, but I just stare at my feet, “Well, I’m sorry it’s turned out this way, Lucy. I'll see you in class tomorrow.”

Good riddance.

“Ms. Lewis?” The Principal’s door opens, and I slowly rise from my chair.

****

It had been about a year and a half since my dad divorced my mom. Up until recently, things had been alright. But as you can expect, at first it was nonstop hell. My dad didn’t even tell my mom about the divorce beforehand. And he wasn’t even home when she was served with the divorce papers.

There had been a common pattern though—dad had slept on the couch for a few months, and neither of them even said hello or goodbye anymore. Up near the end, dad wouldn’t even be there when I woke up in the morning. My mom should have seen it coming. But I also think my dad’s a huge asshole.

The last time I saw them in the same room together was Thanksgiving. We said a prayer before digging in and that was the extent of that conversation. I’m grateful that recently, we’ve hit a new normal. I live with my mom fulltime and my dad picks me up on Tuesdays for ice cream. The employees even know us by name at the stand in the next town over. It’s not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

But the worst part is when he comes to grab me at school. Word must have gotten out about the divorce and suddenly every young teacher has taken a sudden interest in him. They all stare at him like he’s fresh meat—the moms too, it’s nauseating. And the worst of their kind is my social studies teacher, Ms. Miller. She likes to lean into the passenger side of his car and say things like, “it’s incredibly refreshing to see a father spending quality time with his daughter.”  And then she leans over me like I’m not even there. I think she wears low cut shirts on purpose.

Last Tuesday though, was the day that ruined everything.

****

It’s almost 3 pm, so dad’s running a little late. To my surprise, a red convertible pulls up and my dad’s the one driving it. He’s even wearing black sunglasses. You’ve got to be kidding me.

And look who’s right on cue. “Mr. Lewis!” I hear Ms. Miller shout. “Wow, look who’s got a shiny new toy?” My social studies teacher blocks my way to the car and my vision goes red.  

His smile is full of pearly whites. “And how’s life been treating you, Ms. Miller?” Like he’s the goddamn mayor. “Yup, just drove this one off the lot. And the weather’s been so nice lately, I couldn’t resist this one.”

“Oh, I’m sure my hair would go wild in a car like this.” She leans over the side of the car. “And they must go so fast, right?”

“Dad, can you please open the trunk?” I pound on the back of the car.

He sounds surprised to hear my voice. “Oh, yeah just put it in the back seat.” Without thinking, I throw my bag lazily across the car towards the back seat.

“Lucy!” He admonishes me. “Don’t scratch my brand-new car!”

 “Honestly, Lucy, you should be more careful.” I’m shocked to hear Ms. Miller speak.

My face turns red. “Can I please just get in the car?” I try to shove past her.  

“Oh, I’m sorry, Lucy.”

Dad starts in on me, “Honey, fix your tone.”

Instead, I try to imagine all the ways Ms. Miller might spontaneously combust.

“Time for ice cream, right?” She leans in towards me. “So, what’s your favorite flavor, Lucy? You know, mine’s vanilla, just like your father.”

What the fuck? I turn to my dad, “How does she know that?”

Now it’s Ms. Miller’s turn to grow red and my dad grumbles a bit under his breath. She backs away, “Well, see you in class tomorrow Lucy!”

I give her the middle finger under my arm.

Dad gives me a pointed look but doesn’t say anything else. We pull out of the parking lot and start to drive.

I don’t let him off that easy, “How does she know what your favorite flavor is?”

His expression never changes but his hands grip the wheel tightly, “Well, because I told her.”

I start in on him, “You’ve never mentioned it after school while I’m there. Were you two together somewhere else?”

I swear I could see a drop of sweat by his temple. “Dad?”

We approach a traffic light. “I ran into her at the grocery store last weekend.”

I couldn't help it, there were tears brimming in my eyes.

He takes a deep breath, “And then we went out for coffee afterward.” Static drowns throughout my ears and I can’t hear what comes next.

His speech is rushed, “All we did was talk, sweetie, and you know, it was nice to have another adult to talk to, it’s been so long since your mom and me—LUCY!”

The light had turned red and I had bolted. I was out of that dumb convertible and sprinting towards home. My dad yelled behind me through the open car door, but I didn’t dare turn around. I sprinted until everything besides me looked like a blur. I cut through a development close to my house and landed on our front step, breathless.

“Lucy? Is that you?” My mom called from the kitchen, but I didn’t answer. I hustled upstairs to my bedroom and slammed the door, my breathing still heavy. How could he? So soon after the divorce? After mom?

I planned to wait until the morning of the next Tuesday. I went to school early and made it seem like I was using the school gym. I snuck out through the locker room with only a few minutes to spare, but with just enough time to do what I had to do.

When Ms. Miller entered her classroom that morning, she found the words “HOMEWRECKER!” written across her chalkboard in red spray paint. She tried to cover it before the kids came in, but she was running late that morning. Her entire homeroom saw it at the same time she did. She ran out of the classroom crying, and by noon, the news had spread to the entire school. Everyone figured it was a student, but who?

As I sat outside the Principal’s office, waiting to affirm my innocence, Ms. Miller came to where I was sitting. She had obviously been crying.

“Was it you?” She asked.

“My favorite flavor's strawberry, actually.”