A Castle of Sand(98)

Not home yet, but soon. I’ll tell you as soon as I know, but I don’t know when they are posting the cast list.
Living next door to a theater school was like having my own personal Hollywood, and at least I had Sarah to share it with, rather than sitting in silence all day long.
The clock chimed 6pm just as I heard the door open. Dad was a bit late, but not overly so.
“Hi!” I called to him, turning around just as I finished the last of the cutting. He smiled at me as he stepped into the kitchen.
“There are only two professions in the world where one is used to being greeted with a huge knife. Serial Killer and Chef. Be careful, Amy.”
“Sorry,” I said, turning around and putting it down again before giving him a hug. Being homeschooled often meant I didn’t see another living soul all day. “You’re late. Was the cast list posted for the winter show?”
“What?” He looked at me, confused, before he clicked in. “Oh. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” I gave him a horrified look. How exactly could he spend all day there and not know? “But it was due any day now. And isn’t that why you were late? Students all checking the cast list?”
“The headmaster was going on and on about the use of so much red meat in food,” he replied, hanging up his coat. “These may be drama students, rising stars, but they are still normal kids who like burgers and fries. Geez… Anyway, what are you cooking?”#p#分页标题#e#
“Stuffed Peppers.” I had begun to set the table, wondering exactly how messy these peppers were going to be.
“Did you finish your assignments today, or do you need to continue to work?” he asked, and I nodded.
“No, I’m done. I’m so glad I don’t have to take calculus any longer.” Calculus had been the bane of my existence, and it was mandatory up until 10th grade. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to do with my life, but I knew math wasn’t going to be in it, so the moment it became optional, I had stopped. When I had math on my plate in 8th and 9th grade, and had begun taking courses online by myself, I had spent about every evening in tears trying to figure it out. Dad had not been much help then, having stopped taking math in 8th grade himself, to train as an apprentice chef. It hadn’t helped that he had told me, with a rueful smile, that math was also the bane of my mother’s existence when she was in school. I just felt more doomed than ever before.
“What did you do today, then?” he asked, reaching to pour himself a glass of water.
“English, mostly,” I replied. “A little French and world politics.” I took a breath before posing my next question. However, before I could ask him about colleges, he cut me off.
“And how are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I replied, a bit annoyed. This was his question almost every minute of the day. I received two phone calls and five text messages a day from him, asking the same thing. “I even cleaned my room during lunch.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling fine, then? You cleaned your room?” He gave me a teasing glance. “Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”
“Aliens,” I replied, as the oven dinged. “That’s what happens when you get left alone all day. You’re an easy target for abduction.” I pulled the food out of the oven, putting it on hot plates on the table.
“Tomorrow I’ll be late again,” Dad said, as he sat down, taking another swallow of water. “Possibly into the evening. In fact, it’ll likely be that way all next week.”
“Oh?” I looked up, surprised. Tomorrow was Friday, and we usually rented a film and ordered in dinner. It had been a tradition since my childhood, and while the movies had changed from cartoons to dramas, the ritual remained the same.
“Next week they are having auditions for the winter semester, so they’ll have an overload of potential students flooding the school, which means the cafeteria will be extra busy. I need to make sure things are prepped and ready so we don’t get slammed. The last thing the headmaster will want is for us to appear as though we are not top quality. Even if that means we’ve just run out of fries and pizza.”
“Anyone interesting?”
“Just mostly potential transfers from that drama school down south,” he replied, chewing thoughtfully. “You practically have to have a pedigree to get into a school full of pedigrees.”
“Right,” I replied, taking a bite. “How is it?” I asked, alarmed, when he put his fork down after only one bite.
“It’s fine. Good herbs, not bad on the sauce. It’s just…” After a minute he pushed his plate away. “Sorry, Amy, I’m just not very hungry today. My stomach has been upset since breakfast.”