Silver Lining

Like most teenagers with raging hormones and a victim complex, Dallas Drake felt hard done by. In his encumbered mind, he had an absentee father and no mother worth knowing.

Perhaps he deserved to feel abandoned by those who should unconditionally love him, but he never knew his mother and his father strived to maintain their relationship through the strain of the long hours in his job at the FBI. He planned mandatory dinners on a Friday that Dallas promised he would attend each and every week, despite being even further detached from his dad as time went on. It wasn’t that Travis Drake didn’t care about his son; his son saw it that way.

As bad boy wannabe Dallas slumped himself down at the dinner table with a roaring bad attitude today, he waited. His school day was packed with his girlfriend Sienna whining, his teachers hounding him about assignments he would never do and his mates so charmingly irritating. He didn’t ride a motorcycle and pick a fight with a random dude every day. He didn’t swear openly at teachers or fuck up his grades for no reason other than reputation. Despite that, many of his peers viewed him as a rebel, a popular kid no one should mess with.

His dad was late. Shocker. It wasn’t unusual. He couldn’t say it was unexpected. It was just… disappointing. Like it always was. His dad promised, so he would come. But how long Dallas spent waiting for him varied.

It was strange to have a scheduled compulsory dinner, as they lived in the same house. They lived in the same house, yet they never saw each other. In passing, with the occasional ‘how was your day?’, but his dad was an uncaring dickhead in his eyes. Could he never prioritize his son?

Dallas often acted out at home and at school. He supposed that was the reason for his reputation of being a badass when he really wasn’t. He’d admit that himself. He lusted for attention, any kind of attention from his father. Thus, he attempted to cause scenes big enough for his father to be dragged down to the principal’s office and scolded his son with vigor. Dallas would rather the scolding than nothing at all.

And here he was again, with nothing at all.

“Dallas!” his dad exclaimed, startling the boy in his nonchalant state. Dallas winced as he whacked his knee underneath the table in his surprise.

The boy glanced to his watch, narrowing his eyes at the clock face. He couldn’t be reading that right. It was impossible. It was the earliest his dad had ever arrived home for the dinner. The teenager was… flabbergasted. The only word he could find that could convey both his shock and the absurdity of the situation.

Dallas’ eyes flickered over to his father with the slightest sense of achievement, weird when he had done nothing. Though his uplifted mood instantly plummeted at the petite wide-eyed figure that stood beside his aging father.

A scowl plastered over his face that threatened to remain for eternity with the way it etched into him and to his heart. He felt his chest tighten in anxiety. Why? One: he was not expecting any company. Two: the girl appeared to be younger than he was, and if she was his dad’s girlfriend or something of that nature, he could potentially murder someone. Three: she ruined the only moment of unadulterated father son time all week.

What he despised himself for was the way he couldn’t help himself from raking his hazel eyes over the 4’11 girl. Despite her small stature, she held curves of a woman, or at least older than her face portrayed.

Blue glowing eyes that almost intimidated Dallas as they pierced into him, wonder laced with fear. They shimmered from the hallway light and a thin film of liquid glazed over the irises. Her round button nose twitched with unfamiliarity, the light dusting of freckles. Her lips held a delicate natural pout, plump and pink and bow-shaped.

Certainly kissable.

Dark ginger hair rested in pigtails on other side of her neck, cut short for the tips to prick at her shoulders. It waved at the end, shortening it further. Ribbons decorated the bunches on either side, as though she was a little girl.

She wore a pale pink pinafore dress with an embroidered rainbow on the front big pocket. Underneath was a striped crop top that matched the rainbow colors, as did the over-the-knee socks she had. Though the most amusing and ridiculous part of this crazy girl’s outfit was her shoes, the Lelli Kelly high tops with a beaded unicorn on the side and blue glittery butterflies lining the silver laces. An ludicrous shoe for a girl her age.

Drowning the angst she slightly exuded was the exuberance of her attitude. The light didn’t shine on her, she gave it out like the brightest sun. He was envious of how lights she was, how unburdened, as though she hadn’t a single woe.

What he perhaps detested more than anything else was the glint in his dad’s judgmental eyes that were now beaming like never before at the young girl. For once, they seemed kind, and comforting, and welcoming.

“Dallas, this is Summer,” his dad announced.

But he couldn’t hear it. He wouldn’t. Whatever the reason she was there, it couldn’t have been good, at least not for him.

He scoffed loudly, the emptiness of the one sound echoed around the silent room hauntingly. Brushing past his father, his shoulder collided with Summer, though he didn’t look back as he stormed out the front door. He didn’t have a particular plan in mind. His fist felt the twitching, irresistible urge to slam into something.

Why couldn’t his dad look at him the same way? Ever? Was he just not good enough? A girl dressed like a lunatic who swallowed rainbows and fucking glitter was better than him. He was never enough. He should accept it, after all this time, all the fucking moments he wished his dad would put his son first.

“Dallas!” his father yelled as he marched outside in his authoritative FBI agent way.

He was the leader of his unit, specializing in organized crime. All day, and most nights, he ordered other work-crazed idiots. His dad always told stories of his days at the academy in Quantico, mainly because he would never share the details of his work, not even to his family.

It bitterly amused Dallas how his dad refused to bring his work home yet spent all the time he had at home working cases too. At the Friday dinners, many a time, halfway through when he had nothing cordial left to say to his son, he looked over case files. Dallas supposed the least he could do was talk with him about it. But he couldn’t even do that.

Somehow, his dad was the more judgmental one. It came with the job he was obsessed with.

“What the hell was that?! We have company and I don’t need you acting like a spoiled brat.” He was no spoiled brat. He needed attention and money to be spoiled. He was merely a brat, an appropriate brat to his situation.

He was aware others had much greater problems than he did. He didn’t care though. This was his situation and he was far from happy with it. Being so alone, so isolated, it was like no other feeling to him. He needed emotional support, he supposed, though it made him sound like a fucking pussy. Which was why he couldn’t put his feelings in the hands of his friends who would potentially ridicule him. He was afraid. He was just… lonely and afraid.

“Who the fuck is she?” he grunted, staring at the open road rather than his father. His fingers fiddled with nothing in his lap, anxiously awaiting the answer. Goosebumps pricked at his skin in the early evening chilly breeze. The whistling wind echoed his soul, empty.

One could say it was an overreaction, all of it. But he had never felt wanted. And it had a grave effect on his mental wellbeing. With these great emotions, only heightened by teenage change, he resulted in mood swings and occasional depressed states. He couldn’t help it. As much as he wanted to.

“She’s-”

Don’t say girlfriend. Don’t say it. Please don’t fucking say it.

He doubted it, but the unpredictability of his dad was unparalleled by anyone in his life.

“-staying with us. I know her father and he had to go over seas for work. She’ll be here at least six months, and you are going to make her feel welcome. She’s the same year as you, and you’ll help her at school.”

They could never have a conversation. Every sentence from his strict mouth was a fucking order, and Dallas despised it.

“We were supposed to have dinner, just us,” Dallas said, attempting to keep the grief from seeping into his tone and putting his dad on the defensive. Travis Drake could rarely handle his son’s emotions. He doubted anyone’s emotions, though apparently he was effective when conversing with victims, witnesses and criminals alike.

“I know, but Summer’s going to be a part of the family for a while, and they are family dinners. She’s a very sweet girl. I’m sure you’ll get along. Go back inside.” Again, another command, as though Dallas were just his puppet he could use whenever he liked. And, for some reason, Dallas was always compelled to obey.

There was a time when he thought obedience would make his father love him, show affection toward him, understand and support him. It only made Dallas more invisible. So then, he did the opposite. And he would rather be berated every second of every day than living with nothing but isolation.

His eyes searched for the girl subconsciously, to find her at the dining table, swinging her legs back and forth as they dangled off the tall chairs. She twirled her fork in her hand, the pasta curling with it. As the sapphire eyes met with father and son at the door, she beamed an outrageously grin at both.

The aptness of her name was not lost on him. All smiles, and bright, and warm, and fun. Like summer. Perhaps he should have been named Winter, just to name the sheer contrast in the two teenagers.

Reluctantly, he settled back into his seat at the table, avoiding eye contact with the girl and scoffing down his meal. He didn’t much want to talk with his dad, especially with a girl he didn’t know intently listening. She was jittery, he noticed, from the corner of his eye. Perhaps it was the awkward silence the men had cast, that they were used to. Dallas supposed the tension was rather sickening. Suffocating even. But he often felt that way around his dad.

He was by no means a bad man. Dallas would never claim that. Travis would never strike or belittle his son; he would never result to abuse, verbal or physical, no matter how mad he got. He was good at his job and did it with pure intentions to eradicate organized crime and prevent innocent civilians from being harmed. He was a good man, by some definition. But not a good father. And now he was going to have another teenager in his home, a doll-like one at that.

Dallas thought she might shatter to pieces like glass if she ever fell. While she radiated positivity, she displayed a delicate nature, particularly with her next words.

“T-This meal is um… T-This meal is nice,” she spoke angelically but brokenly.

It was difficult for Dallas to even focus in on the stutter when her voice sounded the way it did. Kind, fragile, warm. It warmed him where he felt so cold and lonely, and he had no idea why. And he didn’t want to.

The more he found traits endearing, the more he felt as though this girl would replace him. She had to leave. His dad would surely like her more and then he’d be nothing but half his father’s genes. Nothing more than just some kid he didn’t know and didn’t want to know.

“Thank you, Summer,” his dad returned with a generous smile. One his son hadn’t seen in quite some time. And he could hardly be surprised. She had manners. She had grace. She had innocence that others were attracted to. And he had none of that.

How could he compete with someone so charming? He couldn’t.

“Dallas? Do you like the food?” his dad asked with a raised brow.

“Yes,” he replied with a stiff nod. He couldn’t manage anything else. His fear was becoming paralyzing. His fear of abandonment. His fear that his dad only kept him around because Dallas was all he had. And now he had Summer for the foreseeable future.

He tried to rationalize his feelings, tried to make himself see that he was overreacting, that his panic wasn’t justified. But the soft glances Travis gave Summer made him tense all the more. His dad checked on her every few seconds, worried she would disappear into the air without a trace. If only he looked at Dallas like that, perhaps his son would have found some other problem to obsess over. Dallas felt pathetic, and weak, and stupid. And those emotions did nothing but enrage him.

“How was school today? Summer will be starting with you next week,” his dad announced. He then angled himself toward Summer. “Don’t worry sweetheart, Dallas will help you find your way around.”

Summer’s eyes finally caught Dallas’, and he couldn’t escape her gaze. There was something that allured him that he couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was because they were opposite that his darkness flooded toward the light. But for some reason, Dallas knew it wasn’t that. It was something else entirely.

“Thank you, D-Dallas,” she stuttered while smiling gently.

On the way his name fell harshly from her lips. Like the two syllables were difficult to say, difficult to be around. He wondered why he always had to be so dramatic, but this girl was so nervous around him she couldn’t even say his name. It gnawed at him, at his self-esteem, though he wouldn’t let that show.