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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Life Changing Decisions/Events
- Published: 06/07/2018
Fathers' Day
Born 1944, F, from Melbourne, FL, United StatesFathers' Day
by
Valerie Allen
“Brandon!” Deanna called from the kitchen. “Are you up yet?” No response. She glanced at the clock and let out a sigh. “Brandon, come on, you've got to get a move on.” She headed along the hallway toward his bedroom.
The boy was sprawled across his bed, belly down, his dark hair rumpled. His long arms dangled from under the covers.
“Brandon, what're you doing?” She leaned down and tousled his hair.
He rolled over and let out a soft groan.
“Okay, Lazy Bones, it's your last week of school. You can't afford to miss any classes now.”
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and bent his arm across his forehead. He made no effort to move.
Deanna stared at her son. “This is unlike you. You're in the homestretch now.”
“Yep. I know.”
“So what's the problem?”
“I just don't feel like going to school today. Can't I stay home?”
“Absolutely not! You never miss school, and you're not starting now.” She tilted her head. “Just one more week and you'll be part of the Senior Class. This time next year you'll be ready for graduation.”
He pulled his hand along the side of his jaw. “There's nothing left to do. Finals are over. They packed away the books. We turned in our laptops.”
Deanna smiled. “When I went to school—in the dark ages—we loved the last week of school.”
He cocked his head up at her. “Mom, that was a while ago.”
“Well, Sweetie, I'd park my dinosaur and find a twig to start writing that 'end-of-school-year essay' in the sand.”
He rolled his eyes. “Geez, hasn't anything changed? Is that part of the teacher DNA or something?”
Deanna smiled. “Our usual assignment had something to do with the month of June or summer vacation.”
Brandon frowned. “We have to write an essay in every class this week—What are You Going to Do This Summer?; Seven Projects to Help Others this Summer; Use this Summer to Build Your Career Success; History Lessons from Your Summer Travels.” He shook his head. “What a waste of time.”
Deanna laughed. “Hmm...even the titles sound familiar.” She looked at her watch. “If you want a ride, you've got to pick up the pace. I'm leaving in 20 minutes.”
He looked away from her and blinked the sleep from his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“I guess so.”
“You guess so? You're not sure?”
“Okay, okay,” he said staring at the ceiling.
Deanna sat on the side of his bed. “Isn't this what you've worked for? I know it's been hard this year, but you still made the Honor Roll. You should be proud of yourself.”
He sat up and hung his head studying the floor. “Sure,” he said.
“Hey.” She grasped his chin and pulled his face toward her. “I'm proud of you,” she said softly.
* * * *
Deanna pulled into the garage, unlocked the kitchen door, and set her purse and car keys on the table. She walked toward Brandon's room, knocked softly, and opened the door.
His fingers tapped on the computer keyboard. He didn't look up.
She sat on his bed without speaking. She stared at his back, his shoulders hunched over, his head bent forward.
The silence between them filled the room.
Brandon finally swiveled around on his chair and looked his mother in the eyes. “What?”
“What? You tell me. What's this all about?” she asked.
“What's what all about?”
“Brandon, don't play games. We've always been straight with each other. What went on today?”
“Nothin'.”
“Why would I get a call at work from your AP English teacher?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Because you were at school today and cut her class. How come?”
“I told you, I didn't want to go to school today.”
“Yes, so you did, and I told you, that you had to go anyway.”
“I did go to school.”
“You did, except for your AP English class.”
“Right.” He looked away.
“Well, Ms. Zimmerman left a message. She said you had an essay due and she's extended the deadline until tomorrow—with a one-letter drop in your grade.”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I don't care. She can give me one letter grade less than an F. It doesn't matter to me. I'm not doin' it.”
“What's the real problem?”
“There is no problem.”
“Brandon, you're in English AP because you excel in reading and writing. You always complete your classwork. You always turn in your assignments on time. What's going on?”
He raised his voice. “I told you, nothin'.”
Deanna raised her eyebrows. “Okay. It's too late for me to call her now, but if I did call her, what would she tell me?”
He shook his head slowly. “I don't know.”
“Brandon you do know, but you don't want to tell me. That makes me worry.”
“There's nothing to worry about. It's only one F, on one assignment, in her class. I'll still have an A overall.”
Deanna stood. “Okay, Kiddo. You're making this hard on both of us.” She widened her eyes and looked at her son. “I'll go on EdLine and see what's going on.”
He stood and his chair banged into the desk. He stomped away and headed toward the bathroom.
Deanna stared at him, puzzled. She went to her computer and pulled up the EdLine for Parents page. Worry tugged at her heart. She found the F for Brandon's assignment—an essay titled, Father's Day. There was no comment by Ms. Zimmerman.
Deanna closed the program. Her eyes filled with tears. She sat still, her thoughts racing, her heart pounding. She pushed herself up from the chair and went to find her son.
He was sitting on his bed staring into space.
She sat down and put her hand on his. “I get it. This F is okay.” She put her arm around his shoulder and hugged him to her.
Mother and son allowed the tears to come freely.
Brandon bent over, balancing his elbows on his knees, his face covered with his hands. “Everyone says Dad was a hero. We should feel proud.”
“I know; it's hard,” she said in a gentle voice.
“I don't feel proud. I'm ticked off!” he shouted. “Who told him to go out and get himself killed? Did he think protecting everyone else was more important than taking care of us?”
Deanna rubbed her hand gently over her son's back, tears slid down her face.
“It's okay. You have a right to be angry. Your dad had a job to do. He loved us. He loved you.”
Brandon pounded his fists on his legs. “This shouldn't have happened. He was one of the good guys. It's unfair! What about us? What are we?”
Deanna let out a long sigh and then kissed her son on the cheek. “We're collateral damage,” she whispered.
# # #
Thank you for taking the time to read
Fathers' Day
If you enjoyed it,
please consider telling your friends
and posting a review on
Amazon.com or other online sites.
Word-of-mouth referrals are
an author's best friend
and much appreciated.
Short Stories
by
Valerie Allen
A Good Thing on a Bad Day
A License to Practice
A Marriage of Convenience
A Mother's Love
A Tooth for a Tooth
Best Wishes
Brotherly Love
Conditional Love
Doggie Tales
Fathers' Day
Fire Engine Red
Future Plans
Holiday Traditions
Home for the Holidays
I Remember Momma
Just Be Cos
Ladies in Waiting
Leisureville
Love is in the Air
Match-maker
Mother Knows Best
Potty Talk
Puppy Love
No Goin' Home
Second Chance
Small Steps
Split Second Timing
The Garden of Love
The Penalty Box
Words of Wisdom
Valentine's Day
Fathers' Day
by
Valerie Allen
Copyright 2015
Valerie Allen
All rights reserved
Amazon.com/dp/B013PN9W16
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.
For More Information, please contact:
Valerie Allen
VAllenWriter@gmail.com
ValerieAllenWriter.com
Amazon.com/author/valerieallen
Fathers' Day(Valerie Allen)
Fathers' Day
by
Valerie Allen
“Brandon!” Deanna called from the kitchen. “Are you up yet?” No response. She glanced at the clock and let out a sigh. “Brandon, come on, you've got to get a move on.” She headed along the hallway toward his bedroom.
The boy was sprawled across his bed, belly down, his dark hair rumpled. His long arms dangled from under the covers.
“Brandon, what're you doing?” She leaned down and tousled his hair.
He rolled over and let out a soft groan.
“Okay, Lazy Bones, it's your last week of school. You can't afford to miss any classes now.”
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and bent his arm across his forehead. He made no effort to move.
Deanna stared at her son. “This is unlike you. You're in the homestretch now.”
“Yep. I know.”
“So what's the problem?”
“I just don't feel like going to school today. Can't I stay home?”
“Absolutely not! You never miss school, and you're not starting now.” She tilted her head. “Just one more week and you'll be part of the Senior Class. This time next year you'll be ready for graduation.”
He pulled his hand along the side of his jaw. “There's nothing left to do. Finals are over. They packed away the books. We turned in our laptops.”
Deanna smiled. “When I went to school—in the dark ages—we loved the last week of school.”
He cocked his head up at her. “Mom, that was a while ago.”
“Well, Sweetie, I'd park my dinosaur and find a twig to start writing that 'end-of-school-year essay' in the sand.”
He rolled his eyes. “Geez, hasn't anything changed? Is that part of the teacher DNA or something?”
Deanna smiled. “Our usual assignment had something to do with the month of June or summer vacation.”
Brandon frowned. “We have to write an essay in every class this week—What are You Going to Do This Summer?; Seven Projects to Help Others this Summer; Use this Summer to Build Your Career Success; History Lessons from Your Summer Travels.” He shook his head. “What a waste of time.”
Deanna laughed. “Hmm...even the titles sound familiar.” She looked at her watch. “If you want a ride, you've got to pick up the pace. I'm leaving in 20 minutes.”
He looked away from her and blinked the sleep from his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“I guess so.”
“You guess so? You're not sure?”
“Okay, okay,” he said staring at the ceiling.
Deanna sat on the side of his bed. “Isn't this what you've worked for? I know it's been hard this year, but you still made the Honor Roll. You should be proud of yourself.”
He sat up and hung his head studying the floor. “Sure,” he said.
“Hey.” She grasped his chin and pulled his face toward her. “I'm proud of you,” she said softly.
* * * *
Deanna pulled into the garage, unlocked the kitchen door, and set her purse and car keys on the table. She walked toward Brandon's room, knocked softly, and opened the door.
His fingers tapped on the computer keyboard. He didn't look up.
She sat on his bed without speaking. She stared at his back, his shoulders hunched over, his head bent forward.
The silence between them filled the room.
Brandon finally swiveled around on his chair and looked his mother in the eyes. “What?”
“What? You tell me. What's this all about?” she asked.
“What's what all about?”
“Brandon, don't play games. We've always been straight with each other. What went on today?”
“Nothin'.”
“Why would I get a call at work from your AP English teacher?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Because you were at school today and cut her class. How come?”
“I told you, I didn't want to go to school today.”
“Yes, so you did, and I told you, that you had to go anyway.”
“I did go to school.”
“You did, except for your AP English class.”
“Right.” He looked away.
“Well, Ms. Zimmerman left a message. She said you had an essay due and she's extended the deadline until tomorrow—with a one-letter drop in your grade.”
He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I don't care. She can give me one letter grade less than an F. It doesn't matter to me. I'm not doin' it.”
“What's the real problem?”
“There is no problem.”
“Brandon, you're in English AP because you excel in reading and writing. You always complete your classwork. You always turn in your assignments on time. What's going on?”
He raised his voice. “I told you, nothin'.”
Deanna raised her eyebrows. “Okay. It's too late for me to call her now, but if I did call her, what would she tell me?”
He shook his head slowly. “I don't know.”
“Brandon you do know, but you don't want to tell me. That makes me worry.”
“There's nothing to worry about. It's only one F, on one assignment, in her class. I'll still have an A overall.”
Deanna stood. “Okay, Kiddo. You're making this hard on both of us.” She widened her eyes and looked at her son. “I'll go on EdLine and see what's going on.”
He stood and his chair banged into the desk. He stomped away and headed toward the bathroom.
Deanna stared at him, puzzled. She went to her computer and pulled up the EdLine for Parents page. Worry tugged at her heart. She found the F for Brandon's assignment—an essay titled, Father's Day. There was no comment by Ms. Zimmerman.
Deanna closed the program. Her eyes filled with tears. She sat still, her thoughts racing, her heart pounding. She pushed herself up from the chair and went to find her son.
He was sitting on his bed staring into space.
She sat down and put her hand on his. “I get it. This F is okay.” She put her arm around his shoulder and hugged him to her.
Mother and son allowed the tears to come freely.
Brandon bent over, balancing his elbows on his knees, his face covered with his hands. “Everyone says Dad was a hero. We should feel proud.”
“I know; it's hard,” she said in a gentle voice.
“I don't feel proud. I'm ticked off!” he shouted. “Who told him to go out and get himself killed? Did he think protecting everyone else was more important than taking care of us?”
Deanna rubbed her hand gently over her son's back, tears slid down her face.
“It's okay. You have a right to be angry. Your dad had a job to do. He loved us. He loved you.”
Brandon pounded his fists on his legs. “This shouldn't have happened. He was one of the good guys. It's unfair! What about us? What are we?”
Deanna let out a long sigh and then kissed her son on the cheek. “We're collateral damage,” she whispered.
# # #
Thank you for taking the time to read
Fathers' Day
If you enjoyed it,
please consider telling your friends
and posting a review on
Amazon.com or other online sites.
Word-of-mouth referrals are
an author's best friend
and much appreciated.
Short Stories
by
Valerie Allen
A Good Thing on a Bad Day
A License to Practice
A Marriage of Convenience
A Mother's Love
A Tooth for a Tooth
Best Wishes
Brotherly Love
Conditional Love
Doggie Tales
Fathers' Day
Fire Engine Red
Future Plans
Holiday Traditions
Home for the Holidays
I Remember Momma
Just Be Cos
Ladies in Waiting
Leisureville
Love is in the Air
Match-maker
Mother Knows Best
Potty Talk
Puppy Love
No Goin' Home
Second Chance
Small Steps
Split Second Timing
The Garden of Love
The Penalty Box
Words of Wisdom
Valentine's Day
Fathers' Day
by
Valerie Allen
Copyright 2015
Valerie Allen
All rights reserved
Amazon.com/dp/B013PN9W16
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events, is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author.
For More Information, please contact:
Valerie Allen
VAllenWriter@gmail.com
ValerieAllenWriter.com
Amazon.com/author/valerieallen
- Share this story on
- 10
Cheryl Ryan
06/22/2024Very sweet and beautifully written. Dads are special people in the lives of growing boys and girls. My Dad was always there through good and bad, thick and thin. He was the base for the confidence I have to face the world today. happy Father's Day to all the men out there. We love you!
Thank you for sharing Valerie.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Valerie Allen
06/22/2024Thank you for reading my short story. This one seems to "touch" many readers.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Valerie Allen
06/18/2024Thank you for your interest in my short story. Sadly, this situation impacts many families.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Gerald R Gioglio
06/19/2022"Collateral Damage"...yes Valerie. Perhas we are all just victims of militarism and war-making. Nice piece; you nailed the teenaged angst... Happy storystar day. Jerry
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Lillian Kazmierczak
06/19/2022What a sad but wonderful tribute to the men that keep us free and safe! Sadly that story rings true in many households. Congratulations on short story star of the day!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Valerie Allen
06/16/2019My honor to have my short story, "Fathers' Day" selected again for Story Star for the Day! I'm delighted to have new readers for my work and hope they enjoy the story and the message ~
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
06/08/2018Valerie,
I agree with what Jd said. I find it sad that we have 500 War Colleges on Earth, and no Peace Colleges. War doesn't end when the troops leave, the ones that didn't come home, and the ones that have to live where War happened, don't get to just start over like nothing happened. I loved your heartbreaking, way to common, story. Smiles, Kevin
COMMENTS (11)