“Following you.” I leaned against the door. “What are you doing? Emily is supposed to be in school, and why on earth are you driving this? Where’s your Ford?”
“Well, I took it to the panel beater, but they didn’t—”
I held up my hand sharply. “Emily first. Why are you helping her skip school? You’re her father, Mark, you should know better.”
Emily leaned forward. “I asked him to, Mom. It wasn’t his idea.”
“But he still agreed. What exactly is going on here?”
Mark raised his hands gently. “She asked me to pick her up because she didn’t want to go—”
“That’s not how life works, Mark! You don’t just opt out of ninth grade because you don’t feel like it.”
“It’s not like that.”
Emily’s jaw tightened. “You don’t get it. I knew you wouldn’t.”
“Then make me get it, Emily. Talk to me.”
Mark glanced at her. “You said we were going to be honest, Emmy. She’s your mom. She deserves to know.”
