"Yes, Dad, I slammed his fist in a locker for no reason," I drawl. "For crying out loud, I'm not stupid! I haven't done anything that might inconvenience you and Mom while you're ripping up the family. God forbid I actually step out of line -"
"Ace, I swear -" Dad starts out, taking a step forward. Banshee's hand lands lightly on his shoulder. It looks like a gentle touch, but I see Dad strain against it for a second and realize he's not moving. "Ace, tell me the truth. Your mother's going to show up sooner or later, I'm sure, and she's going to blame this on me, regardless," he grits out.
"He broke his own hand," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest, "punching me in the face."
Dad stares at me blankly before turning on Matt. "You PUNCHED my son in the face?" he demands.
"It - it's starting to change color," Matt almost whimpers, looking at the hand in question. "How can I play football with a broken hand?"
The series
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