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I was feeling refreshed when I arrived at Catherine's house that Sunday. She'd cancelled our training the day before because her team was taking part in Vancouver's junior varsity basketball tournament, which had given me a much needed day off. Explaining it to my parents hadn't been easy; I'd eventually just told them that the store was going to be closed for the day for cleaning. My dad had accepted the explanation, but I don't think my mom had really bought it. I'd told myself that there was no way she could check up on it; she was going to be at work all day, so I was safe. Still, I had the feeling that she was getting suspicious of what I was doing.

I pushed all of that away, though, as I headed down the hallway towards Catherine's court. I'd been there enough times by now that I knew my way around a good chunk of the house, and was getting comfortable with moving around it without somebody else to guide me. It helped that Catherine's parents were away; Mr and Mrs DeMille always put me on edge when they were around.

When I stepped into the court, I was surprised. Catherine was waiting for me in her gear, as always. However, unlike usual, she wasn't already practicing. Normally I would walk in to find her at the free throw line, or with a series of cones set up for dribbling drills. This time, though, she was just standing, leaning back against one of the walls, with a ball at her feet. Her eyes flicked up to me when I stepped in, and I froze for a second.

There was a long moment of silence, and then I cleared my throat. "Hey Catherine."

She nodded. "How was the day off?"

"Fine." I was confused. Catherine... wasn't exactly the type for pleasantries. "How was the tournament?"

"We came in third."

"That's great!" I meant it when I said it; there were a lot of high schools in Vancouver. Coming in third was impressive. I knew it was a mistake as soon as the words were out of my mouth, though. She raised an incredulous eyebrow at me, and I remembered who I was talking to. I held in my groan, feeling sure that she was going to try to blame this on me.

She didn't, though. I got changed into my workout gear, and we started practicing. It felt mostly normal, though Catherine seemed distracted.

Our drills were becoming more physical. As per Catherine's request, I'd been working out with Garet for over two months now, and it was beginning to show in my build. My shoulders were getting bulkier, as well as my arms. When Catherine was blocking me, I was doing my best to throw some of my new weight into my movements. Occasionally, I would actually shoulder her or give small shoves; nothing big, but enough to start getting both of us used to a rougher style of play. I had to consciously force myself to do it, but it was getting easier and less awkward for me.

We stopped for a break when Harriett brought lunch in. The two of us sat on the floor, as we normally did, and ate in silence.

"Our varsity team had its final tournament last weekend."

She spoke very abruptly, and I looked over at her in surprise. She was looking down at her sandwich instead of over at me. When I realized that she was waiting for me to speak, I stammered.

"Uh, how'd they do?"

"They didn't make it past the first round."

I nodded very slowly, eying her. "I see."

We sat in silence for a few more awkward seconds, and then she sighed. "Alright, here's the thing. My team mainly made it to third because of me. There's no real talent there. Clearly, the varsity team doesn't have much to go on, either. My father's already looking into finding a way to get a better coach onto the staff for the varsity team, but that alone isn't going to be enough. I need somebody else to back me up."

I eyed her incredulously for a few seconds. Then, I muttered, "Are you saying you want me to transfer schools so I can play on your team?"

"Yes. Exactly that. I'm willing to pay you for the time that you spend at practices and games, as per our original agreement."

I was already shaking my head before she finished speaking. "No."

"We've been through this before, Hiro. I don't--"

"Catherine, just stop. I don't--"

"No." Her voice was hard, and her eyes sharp. "Hiro, I understand. I can't just buy you. I respect that, alright? That's not what I'm trying to do here." She paused. I was too stunned to take the opportunity to speak. I could tell she was having trouble when she kept speaking. "I want you on that team because I trust you. I know what I can do. I can carry a team if I have to. You can do more than that, though. You can actually lift a team. People play better when you're around them. I'm asking you to come and join my team because I feel like I can do this with you, and I don't think I could do it with anybody else. Me paying you to do it isn't me buying you. It's me trying to help you so that you can do this with me."

She stopped, and I was glad. It made me uncomfortable, having her talk to me like that. Especially knowing how I was going to respond. "You don't get it yet, do you?" When she raised an eyebrow at me, I went on. "I don't play basketball because I have to, or because I want to be the best, or anything like that. I'm doing this... or at least I started doing it because it's the only fun thing in my life. You might not be able to understand this, but... Christ." I clamped my beak shut, and tried to think of the best way to explain it to her. Her look was guarded and calculating, just like it always was. Finally I just shook my head. "I don't have a lot going well for me right now, okay? Basketball is the only thing keeping me sane. It's a stretch coming here and playing specifically for money. It complicates things for me, and I don't need that. If I were to go to your school, and turn _all_of my playing time into something for money?" I shrugged helplessly. "It would leave me with no time that was just for... me. And it wouldn't make a big enough difference in my family's finances for me to justify it."

Neither of us spoke for a long time after that. Our sandwiches sat forgotten on their plates. I guess she'd lost her appetite, too.

Eventually, we got up and started playing again. We didn't speak much for the rest of the day, and I was glad for it. For the first time in months, when she asked if I was staying for dinner, I declined. I didn't read or do homework on the drive home; I needed to think. If Laurence noticed my silence, he didn't mention it.

I wasn't sure what was making me more uncomfortable: that she had been willing to ask me something like that, or that she'd said she trusted me.

Catherine's offer was in the back of my head, distracting me for the entire week. I barely even noticed how nice the weather was getting. Everything went by in a blur, and I was on autopilot the entire time. I was almost surprised when Friday night came around, and I realized I was going to have to train with Catherine the following day and work out with Garet after that.

As I'd taken to doing, I went to the bathroom to wash my workout clothes by hand. My mom and I used to go to the laundromat on Sunday evenings to do all the laundry, but now I spent those evenings working out with Garet. As such, I had to use the hand soap to work the sweat out of my workout clothes.

I looked them over as I soaked them in the bathroom sink. The shorts were just some light ones that we'd gotten from the thrift store a few years ago; we were lucky that I hadn't grown much since then, so I'd been able to keep using them. The shirt was an old athletic shirt that used to belong to my dad, like most of my clothes. The front of it still had a few chips from his university's logo, now completely illegible. The material, once a dark black, had faded to a pale, sickly grey colour from the sunlight.

Only a year ago, it had been far too big for me around the chest. Now, though, I was starting to fill it out. No doubt all the working out with Garet was helping with that. It was more than just that, though. It no longer hung down quite so far down my legs. As I worked the soap into it, I paused, lost in thought.

Once I'd finished wringing them out and I'd hung them over the shower's railing to dry, I went back to the kitchen. My brother and sister were in our room doing their homework, and my dad had already gone to bed. Mom was making her lunch for work tomorrow, and she didn't look up as I came in.

"Hey mom, have I gotten taller?"

She blinked, and then looked over her shoulder at me, surprised. She walked over, and stood right in front of me. She carefully placed her hand on top of my head, and then brought it across, to where it met just shy of the top of her head.

"It looks like it. Your father will be pleased to know you might just be his son after all."

We both chuckled at that, and then lapsed into silence. When she spoke again, her voice was thoughtful.

"You know, I was starting to think that you might never get any taller." She paused, then went on. "I'm almost disappointed."

I blinked at that, surprised. "Why do you say that?"

"Oh, no reason. It's good. You've had to be grown up for quite a while now. I guess it's only natural for your body to start catching up."

"Please don't talk like that, mom."

"Sorry." She sighed, then turned back to the counter to keep working on her lunch. "You know that you can talk to your father and I about anything, right? His body might not be as strong as it once was, but he still wants to help you every bit as much."

"I know." I had to be careful with my voice. Deciding it would be better to leave the situation, I said, "I'm tired. I'm just going to go to bed."

"Alright. Send Ken and Mai out here to do their homework."

I did as she said. When I lay down on my mattress, though, I just stared up at the ceiling, thoughts whirling around in my head. I closed my eyes when my sister and brother finally came in, and I knew they were fast asleep long before my mind finally quieted.

I was dreading practice the next morning. I hadn't slept well the night before, but the nervous energy still had me on the point of shaking during the long car ride out to Catherine's house.

When we arrived, I made my way towards the court. When I walked in, I was again greeted with a surprise.

Catherine was there, standing next to her father. Mr DeMille was every bit as big as ever, the vibrant red of his cheeks almost blinding. He was dressed in a full business suit, his hands shoved firmly into his pockets. The small amount I'd grown since I'd first met him did nothing to make me feel less diminutive next to him.

Upon seeing me, his face lit up, and he started walking towards me. "Ah, Hiro!" That booming voice always sounded louder in the court, where I was used to just Catherine and I speaking quietly. "Always a pleasure to see you."

I shook his offered hand, doing my best to not sound uncomfortable. "Thank you. How was your trip, Mr DeMille?"

"Please, Hiro, call me James. And it went well, as always."

I nodded awkwardly, and then looked between him and Catherine a few times. Even when Catherine's parents were around, they didn't spend much time watching us practice; it was more of an occasional thing. Neither of them had ever been there when I showed up before. At length, I asked, "Was there something you needed to talk about?"

"Well yes, actually. I understand that Catherine explained the situation with her school last week?"

I nodded very slowly, feeling the feathers around my neck already beginning to fluff up. I glanced over at Catherine, and she met my gaze. Her eyes were sharp, even by her own standards.

"She explained it to me," I said very carefully, picking my words. "I declined her offer, though, and I've already given my reasons."

"Yes, so Catherine tells me." Mr DeMille's smile never faltered as he looked down at me. I was feeling more uncomfortable every moment, like he was sizing me up before pouncing. "That said, I thought I might help sweeten the deal for you."

I wasn't sure how to respond at first. Eventually, I just swallowed, and said, "I've said no, Mr DeMille."

He paused, raising an eyebrow at that. "Please, Hiro, we're discussing business now. I'd prefer it if you called me James. Now Hiro, that first night that you had dinner here, you said that your father was a taxi driver, yes?" I didn't respond. As soon as he'd mentioned my dad, something had clamped down on my chest. I just stared at him. "That isn't... entirely true though, is it? Now your father... Hikari, yes?" I blinked, and the cold feeling in my guts grew stronger. "Hikari Matsuura. Graduated with a degree in civil engineering from Osaka Avian University. He also, I found out, was the starting centre on the school's basketball team. A few years after graduation, he immigrated to Canada with his young family." The big cockatoo paused again, and then said far too gently, "Is all of that right?"

I finally found my voice. "Yes." It was half a pitiful squawk. My eyes flicked over to Catherine again. She was still gazing at me, unblinking. I didn't know where this was going. I didn't like it. I did not like it.

Mr DeMille continued. "Hiro, I have many contacts in this city. It's something that comes with being somebody of my... position. All I did was ask around a bit. That was all. It was a contact at the hospital that told me something very unfortunate." I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. My eyes went back to the older palm cockatoo. The confident, welcoming smile on his face faltered. I felt my hands balling into fists. If he said... "Hiro, I should start by saying that I was saddened to learn of your father's condition. It's tragic when somebody as young as your father is struck by cancer."

"Stop." I was surprised to hear my own voice. Mr DeMille blinked at me, and I went on. "I don't know what you're planning and I don't care what you have to say. I'm leaving."

I had already turned towards the door. Mr DeMille's voice drew me up short. "Hiro, I can help your father." I froze in position, and he rushed onwards. "I don't think you understand quite how wealthy I am. You know that here in Canada, your father doesn't stand much of a chance. Between waiting times and..." I turned to face him, and he went quiet. It must've shown on my face. I didn't need somebody listing off all the reasons why somebody with an aggressive strain of cancer and no additional coverage might not 'stand much of a chance' in the Canadian health system. After a breath, Mr DeMille went on. "Well. As I said, Canada can't offer your father much. That said, there are alternatives. There are many high-end, private clinics in America that specialize in treating cancer. In fact, I've found one in Washington state that specializes in prostate cancer."

It took a lot of effort to keep my voice level when I replied. "What are you offering?"

His face twitched the slightest bit back into a smile. "You're going into the eleventh grade. Switch schools to play with Catherine's team for the next two years, and I'll cover all the expenses for your father to receive treatment at the clinic, as well as ensuring that you still receive the wage we're currently paying you. That's the offer."

I kept staring at him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Hiro, my motto is and always has been that family comes first. Whatever my daughter wants, she gets. I also understand where you're coming from. I know how you feel--"

"No you don't." Mr DeMille blinked again. I could tell he wanted to keep talking, but he held back. I realized that I was shaking. My eyes went to Catherine again. Her expression hadn't changed at all. I remembered what she'd said last week. That she understood she couldn't buy me, that she respected me. I took a deep breath, and forced my beak open. "I'd like to go home, Mr DeMille."

The two palm cockatoos finally turned to glance at each other. They exchanged a look, and then Mr DeMille said. "Of course. I'll call Laurence up right away. You have our phone number if you'd like to talk. And please, do feel free to call me James, Hiro."

"No thank you, Mr DeMille." I walked out of the room as I was saying it. I was happy that neither Catherine or her father followed me. I headed straight out the door, and waited on the front steps.

I didn't say a word the entire drive back; I don't know if I even moved. All I know is that eventually we made it back to my apartment building. I got out before Laurence could open the door for me, and then I stomped up the steps to our apartment.

I opened the door gingerly. Mom would be at work, but I was afraid that Ken and Mai would be there. When all I heard was silence, I closed the door quietly, and then walked over to my bedroom, hoping my dad wouldn't hear me. At the very least, he might assume it was Ken or Mai getting home. When I reached my room, I closed the door, and then collapsed onto my mattress. My beak pressed flush against the material, and I breathed the increasingly hot, stale air trapped under me. My temples were pounding.

They were using him. They were trying to use my dad against me. That was all there was to it. Catherine had finally realized that money alone wasn't enough to make me do what she wanted anymore. So she'd found something else, something that she knew I couldn't say no to. Slowly, I turned my head to look over at the cupboard that my siblings and I shared. I could just see the coat she'd bought me hanging there, singularly nice and new among all the hand-me-downs and second hands. If I'd had the energy to move, I think I would have torn it apart.

I lay there for most of the day, not moving. My thoughts went in circles, trying to find a reason to call the DeMilles and shout at them through the receiver until they hung up. I knew that that was stupid, though.

The light from the window had darkened to a dull orange when I heard the apartment door open. I didn't move as I heard my mother and father speaking in the other room, their voices muffled through the walls. Some time later, I heard the door open again, and then feet were tramping through the apartment. I soon heard my sister's voice, equally muffled.

A few minutes later, the door to our room opened. I didn't move as footsteps fell all around me, before abruptly stopping. "Hiro?" It was Mai's voice, confused and maybe a bit worried. "What are you doing home? I thought you worked out with your friends on Saturday nights." I didn't respond. After a few long moments, she tried again. "Hiro?"

"Go away, Mai." My voice was flat in my own ears. Mai didn't react for a few moments, and then I heard her footsteps softly receding.

A few moments later, I heard somebody else step up to the door. There was a moment of hesitation, and then my mom spoke. "Hiro? Why are you home?"

I groaned. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"How long have you been here?"

I added up the time in my head. "Since noon?"

A pause. "So you left work?"

"...no."

The door closed, and I felt her sit down on my mattress next to me. Her hand came down and rubbed over my back. "What's going on, Hiro? You can talk to me."

I didn't reply. At this point, I knew I had to tell her. I had to tell her everything. I couldn't just... The words wouldn't come out.

Her voice was very soft as she continued. "I know that you quit your job, Hiro." I tensed, surprised, but she went on. "And I know that you've had more money lately. I've noticed the extra food." She hesitated, and then kept speaking. "If it has something to do with the time you've started spending with Garet, then... I'm not angry." I blinked, suddenly confused. "No matter what you've gotten yourself tangled up in, we can get you out of it. I need you to talk to me though."

I just lay there for a few seconds more, confused. What was she talking about? She seemed like she knew a lot of what was going on, but...

Then it clicked. I blinked.

"Oh, God, no." I finally turned to look over at her, and pushed myself partially up. "Mom, it's nothing like that. Garet doesn't... I mean, I would never..." I was scrambling for words. Her expression shifted from concerned to confused. "Look, it's... it's not that."

"Then what is it, Hiro?"

I breathed in and out very slowly. Then, with all of the solemnity of a condemned man accepting his fate, I said, "I need to use the phone."

My mom glanced over at me as the car pulled up in front of our building. I nodded to her, and she raised an eyebrow. I just sighed. I wasn't looking forward to this conversation.

Laurence hopped out of the driver's seat, and then came around and opened the door. Catherine climbed out of the car first, and our eyes met for a moment. She glanced away quickly, and got out of the way. Mrs DeMille followed her, and Mr DeMille came out last. They were all dressed impeccably well, as they always were. For a second, I felt my heart sinking in my chest. After Catherine had shown me her home, I'd had a slight advantage over her. I'd known something about her. Now, she was about to have the same experience with me. I didn't relish giving it up.

Once the DeMilles were out, I spoke quickly, wanting to have at least some control over the situation. "Mom, this is Catherine, and these are her parents, Mr and Mrs DeMille. This is my mom, Hana Matsuura."

Mr DeMille immediately held out his hand, and my mother took it, inclining her head slightly. "Very nice to meet you, ma'am. Please, feel free to call me James. May I call you Hana?"

"Certainly, James." My mother's voice was level and controlled. I glanced over at her, and was surprised by just how neutral she was keeping her face.

"Well then, Hana, this is my wife Charlotte."

"A pleasure," Mrs DeMille said, her smile as bright and insincere as ever.

"Likewise. Now please, let's go up to the apartment. I'm sorry that my husband couldn't come down to greet you, but he isn't feeling the best today. He's waiting in the apartment. Hiro, would you hold the door?"

I bobbed my head, and followed my mother to the door to our building. She lead the way inside, and Mr and Mrs DeMille followed her. Catherine and I brought up the rear. Neither of us looked at each other as we went up the flights of stairs. We both knew where we stood in this.

I was a bit pleased when I found that Mr DeMille was out of breath by the time we reached our floor. My mother lead us to the apartment, and in through the door. She'd already instructed Mai and Ken to stay in our room, so we weren't interrupted as my mom gestured towards her and my father's room. We stepped in.

I should explain a few things. Most people have seen somebody with cancer. Most people have been touched by it personally, and have known somebody that's gone through chemotherapy. At the very least, they show it on television shows, and commercials for fundraisers.

To the fortunate people that have only ever had experience with cancer through a television, though, there are a few very important things to remember. When they pick somebody to show up on a commercial, or on a tv show, or whatever it is, they pick somebody that doesn't look that bad. Sure, they'll have sparse, or completely missing fur. Sure, they'll be thinner than is healthy. The people making the commercials want there to be something attractive, though. They want to hide what cancer and chemotherapy can do to somebody.

My dad was an athlete. He was a good athlete. My earliest memories of him are of a healthy and strong giant, confident in all his movements. Maybe that's just my head giving it a better sheen than it actually had, but the fact remains. He was in good health. He was powerful. He was everything I've ever wanted to be.

Mr DeMille walked into my parents' bedroom confident, expecting to win my father over with his bright, sunny personality and practiced smile. As soon as he stepped in, though, I saw him pause, and his muscles tense. I knew why. I immediately knew he was the type of person that had only had experience with cancer through a television set.

My dad was sitting on the edge of my parents' bed. His hands were clamped on the bed beside him, and I knew he was using that grip to help keep his balance. His clothes were hanging loosely off of him, his shirt almost big enough to slip over his shoulders. It wasn't just the significant loss of fat and muscle mass that was doing it to him. His plumage, which I always remembered as being full and with a bright sheen, had started coming out years ago. In many places, he had bare patches of skin; in other places, the feathers were still there, but some or all of the barb had come out. In those places, it looked like thin growths of bone were just sticking out of his skin. His eyes had thick, heavy bags under them, but the eyes themselves were every bit as sharp and critical as they'd ever been.

We'd brought all the kitchen chairs into the room so that we could all sit. Catherine and her family took the three chairs facing the bed, and my mother and I sat on a pair of chairs set up just next to it. The six of us all stared at each other for a few long moments, and then finally Mr DeMille broke the silence.

"Well. It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Matsuura. My name is James DeMille."

"Very nice to meet you, James." My dad's voice was a croak, but it still had much of the old timber buried beneath. He took a few deep breaths, and then said, "Now, would you care to explain to me why my son called you here?"

Again, there was silence. There had been a double-surprise. Mr DeMille hadn't expected my dad to look quite as haggard as he did. After that, though, he hadn't understood just how hard my dad still was. I felt a small twinge of pride in my chest, seeing how off-balance the palm cockatoo was.

Mr DeMille started explaining. My mother and father offered no reaction as he explained the arrangement between Catherine and I over the past few months. Mr DeMille slowly gained confidence, and by the time he got to the point where he was talking about what had happened earlier that day, he had that slick, comfortable smile back on his face.

When he finished, everything was quiet again. Eventually, my dad looked over at me. "Hiro, is all of this true?"

"Yes." Mr DeMille had left out a few details here and there, like using his 'contacts' to figure out who we were. No reason to call him out on that right now, when there were more important things to focus on.

Dad nodded, and he looked over to mom. They traded a look, and then she said, "Well, thank you, James and Charlotte, and you too, Catherine. I think you should be going now."

The DeMilles all looked stunned by this, and I was too. I stared over at my mom and dad, not believing that they were turning the opportunity down.

"I'm not sure you understand. I can get you treatment from some of the best specialists in the world. This is a once in a lifetime cha--"

"You will not use our son like this." I was almost scared as my mom spoke. Her eyes had narrowed, and she was glaring at both of Catherine's parents. Dad was matching her glare, and his grip had tightened on the bedspread. "He's fifteen. Your daughter has him training and working all hours of the day. He has more to focus on than just improving your daughter's chances at having a pro sports career. School. His family. Having time to relax."

Mr DeMille met my mother's gaze, and then said, "I understand that we may have gone a bit too far. I apologize. The offer is still on the table, though. Feel free to contact us at any--"

"Leave our home." My father spoke. His voice was still rough, but it stopped Mr DeMille dead. The palm cockatoo blanched, his crest of feathers going back flat against his head. There was a horrific moment where he just sat there, trying to think of anything to say.

"No." I think I was the person in the room that was most surprised to hear my voice. The other five all turned to me, and I suddenly felt rooted to my seat. I gulped, and then turned to look at my parents. "Please. Let me do this."

"It's not up for discussion, Hiro," mom said.

"No, I got into this situation on my own. I want to do it."

"Hiro, they're using you." This was my dad. There was a look of equal reproach and concern on his face. "I've met people like these before. They'll use you until you aren't useful to them anymore, and then they'll throw you away."

I could see out of the corner of my eye that Mr DeMille wanted to object to that, but I spoke before he got the chance. "I understand that. But..." I swallowed. "Please, dad. I need this." I need you. I need to think that I'm doing something to help you. I need to think that maybe I don't just have to sit and watch you waste away. That was what I'd realized while I was lying on my mattress all day, staring at the wall. I tried to communicate that, to show him that was how I felt on my face and in my voice. I was doing this because I needed it.

My dad and I just looked at each other for a long time. At last, he glanced over to mom. Then, at length, he said, "James, if at any point I feel that you're taking advantage of my son unfairly, then the deal will be off."

"Of course, Hikari."

"That's Mr Matsuura." Dad's voice was sharp as he said that. Mr DeMille blinked, but he nodded.

The DeMilles left shortly afterwards. I think that Catherine's parents were glad to be out of the situation. I walked them down the stairs, knowing that my parents probably wanted to talk without me present. Laurence was still waiting out front, and he opened the car door for them. Mr and Mrs DeMille immediately got into the back, but Catherine turned to face me.

"I think it might be good if we called tomorrow off and got back on schedule next week."

I nodded. "Probably a good idea."

She nodded back. "Alright. I'll see you next week, then."

"You know this is good."

That drew her up short. She glanced back at me, already almost to the car. "How do you mean?" she asked.

"I know that I can't trust you now."

She blinked. Behind her, even Laurence looked surprised, and suddenly interested.

"I'm helping your dad get cancer treatment."

I snorted. "Right. You expect me to think you're doing that just out of the kindness of your heart?"

She studied me for a long second. Then, she just muttered, "Maybe not. It would've been nice, though."

With that, she turned and stepped into the car. Laurence closed the door, then turned and flashed me a look, raising both his eyebrows. I shrugged.

A few moments later, they'd driven off. I stood on the sidewalk for a little while, just thinking. Well, my parents knew, now. At least that was one less thing to worry about. And dad...

I slowly let a grin come to my face now that I was alone. I knew that the next few years were going to be stressful, and would probably involve a lot of second-guessing everything that Catherine said and did. I was finally doing it, though. I'd found a way to help my dad. I knew that whatever this clinic was, they couldn't work miracles. Still, they would be giving him treatment designed specifically for him. It wasn't a perfect chance, but it was the best one we were going to get.

Finally, I sighed, and turned to head back into the building. I would have to come up with an excuse to tell Garet for why I hadn't shown up to work out that night. He would understand. It would be easier keeping track of the lies I was telling him without having to worry about my mom and dad anymore.