What Daddy Needs 2

Phoebe stared at the gold flecked piranha swimming in slow circles in its large aquarium and wondered if the fish was as bored as she was. Biology wasn’t her favorite subject and although the teacher, Mr Whitman, seemed to have a wonderful rapport with the animals he kept in his classroom he didn’t connect well with his students. His lectures were delivered in a monotone and conveyed nothing that wasn’t covered in the reading assignments.

As Mr Whitman continued to drone on, her eyes moved to the tank next to the piranha’s. The small snapping turtle floated on top of the water. Phoebe leaned toward the boy that sat next to her and poked his arm lightly to get his attention.

“What do you think would happen if I put the turtle in with the fish?” she whispered.

He grinned. “Probably nothing,” he said. “Piranha attack in schools and the turtle is probably too small to try to eat the fish.”

Phoebe turned her attention to the front of the room. Mr Whitman was at the board with his back to the class. “Let’s see,” she whispered as she stood up.

Moving quickly, she grabbed the turtle by the edges of its shell and turned. Lifting the lid on fish tank she dumped the turtle in and closed it quietly. She returned to her seat as the teacher turned to his desk to look at something in the textbook before returning to the board.

The boy sitting next to her tugged on her sleeve and nodded toward the tank. She looked over and her eyes widened. The turtle, it turned out, wasn’t to small after all and it was making short work of the fish. One of the other girls glanced over at the tanks and shrieked loudly. Mr Whitman turned away from the board as every head in the room turned toward the tank now containing blood filled water. From the horror stricken look in her teacher’s eyes you would have thought someone had murdered one of his kids.

Phoebe sighed and leaned back in her chair. This was going to be bad.


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Phoebe started to stand when the door to the principal’s office opened and her father strode out. Before she had gained her feet, though, he had grabbed her by her upper arm and was dragging her along with him into the hallway. He was easily a foot taller than she was and she had to run to keep up with his long strides. She could tell how angry he was, but she wasn’t sure why. He had laughed off worse incidents than this one.

“Daddy . . .” she began when they reached the car.

“Shut up!” he snapped as he jammed the key into the ignition.

She buckled her seat belt and shut her mouth. The atmosphere in the close confines of the car bristled with her father’s anger. His jaw was set and he gripped the wheel so hard that his knuckles showed white through his skin.

He pulled into the drive in front of their house and switched off the ignition. Without saying a word to her he got out and walked into the house. Phoebe remained in the car for a few moments to give him time to pour his Scotch and calm down a little.

She got out and walked to the house. Her dad had left the front door standing open. She entered, closed the door behind her, and reluctantly went to look for her father.

He was in the kitchen. “Daddy, I’m sorry,” she started as he sat the glass in his hand on the counter top. “I didn’t know…”

Her words were cut off by his fist slamming into her stomach. She hit the wall behind her and then the floor. He kicked her and she rolled away. Rising unsteadily onto her hands and knees she backed away as she struggled to her feet. She’d seen this side of her dad before, but it had never been directed at her.

As he lunged for her again she turned and ran for the stairs. If she could get to her room and lock the door she thought she’d be okay till he calmed down. She heard him behind her and tipped the small table in the hallway over to try and slow him down.

Halfway up the stairs he grabbed her ankle and jerked her off her feet. She fell forward and as he started to pull her toward him, she rolled onto her back and kicked hard with her free leg.