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When he came home, Mom was pissed. He wasn’t very interested in what she had to say though, as he quickly began the search for his father.

“Where’s Dad?” he questioned.

“You are not even listening to me Baylee Littrell!” Mom exclaimed frustratingly.

“Yeah yeah, I know, I won’t ditch Richard again, alright? I promise,” Baylee replied patiently, looking at his mother as innocently as he could for someone who’d just stomped through the swamp and performed the ritual of Transformation on his father.

“You know, if this was the first time, I’d believe that promise, but I can’t even count all the times you’ve dumped Richard in the city,” Mom announced as she walked towards the kitchen angrily. Only Mom could walk angrily like that.

“Then maybe you guys should look for another bodyguard,” Baylee answered sweetly. His mother turned around, glaring. Baylee smiled knowingly. It wasn’t like bodyguards were growing on trees and it was only a matter of time before Richard would quit the job and they had to look for yet another bodyguard. And not most security jumped at the chance of guarding a spoilt 13-year old.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, looking at the ground, waiting for his Mom to melt.

“I know sweetie, but you can’t keep doing this. For all I know you were smoking pot with that Jason-kid. You’re grounded.”

Great.

“We weren’t smoking…” Baylee began, but quickly closed his mouth, cause it wasn’t like he could actually explain what they had been doing instead, compared to that, smoking pot seemed like just a little prank, “how long?” he murmured defeated.

“Two weeks.”

“Fair,” Baylee told her quietly. “Where’s Dad?”

“Where do you think?” Mom sighed.

Baylee’s eyes lit up as he figured it out. “Right,” he said as he took off. Faintly he heard his Mom ordering him to stay in the house. He sprinted to the studio in the basement at top speed, trying to tell himself to calm down, that it most likely hadn’t worked, that it was indeed just a myth. He reached the door, steeled himself and stepped inside.

His heart sank as he saw his father sitting at the panel, studying something that looked like a new lyric sheet, oblivious to his son that had come in without announcement.

“You’re still here,” Baylee began, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but knowing he failed at that.

Dad turned slowly on the desk chair, facing him. “And you’re here too, surprisingly,” he mumbled, returning his gaze back to the sheet.

“I was missing,” Baylee countered.

“I know.”

“And you don’t even care!”

“Oh I do, believe me,” Dad spoke.

But Baylee didn’t believe him. Angrily he snatched the sheet out of his father’s hands. Dad looked up, his eyes turning dark in anger. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kick you out,” he growled. People didn’t know it, but Dad was a pro at growling. Baylee didn’t budge though.

“I was missing! Mom grounded me because she thought we were smoking pot, and you don’t even care where I was!”

“Were you smoking pot?” Dad asked incredulously in a monotone voice.

“No! of course not! But that’s not the point!” Baylee yelled in frustration, “The point is, you don’t care where I was!”

“Where were you?” Dad questioned finally.

“I’m not telling you!”

His father threw up his hands in defeat, “Look, I know you’re growing up now, and that you sometimes need some time on your own to hang with your friends, and although ditching a bodyguard isn’t the smartest thing to do, I know I was just like you when I was your age.”

“What if I don’t wanna be like you?”

Dad didn’t answer and instead pointed at the sheet grasped in his son’s hand, “Can I have that back now?”

Glaring, Baylee threw the sheet at his father before storming out.