Falling

55

Vinny Taylor

Logan whipped his head back to look at me in the backseat. I briefly glanced at him, then turned my attention back to the front porch where Dad stood in front of Darren's father.

Dana slowly turned around to glance at me, a look of confusion on her face.

Logan wordlessly put the car into reverse, ready to leave, though we had already caught the attention of Dad and Mr. Sanderson.

"Stop," I said to Logan, unbuckling my seatbelt and opening the car door before Logan even had the chance to put the car in park.

He called out for me, but I didn't slow. I made my way to Dad, brushing past Mr. Sanderson, and stood on the the top step of the porch, making myself appear taller so I could look down at him. That at least made me feel like I had a semblance of control over this situation, like I had even little bit of the upper hand.

"It's good that you're here actually," Mr. Sanderson said in a calm tone. "Your father and I were just talking about a deal."

"A deal?" I shot a look at Dad who looked like he was ready to bury Mr. Sanderson in the ground. He looked at him with narrowed eyes, nearly burning him with his gaze.

"He has a proposition for us," Dad explained through gritted teeth. "Though he hasn't gotten to the point yet."

"Are you sure you don't want to have this conversation inside?" Mr. Sanderson asked, gesturing toward the house.

"I don't want you in my house," Dad shut him down, crossing his arms over his chest.

It surprised me that he wasn't trying to get me to go inside, but I assumed this was his way of giving me control about what happened with Darren.

"Okay, we can do this out here," Mr. Sanderson continued. It wasn't until just then that I noticed the stack of papers he held in his hand. "I want to strike a deal with you as outlined in this contract."

He held the contract out and Dad snatched it from
his hand, looking down at it like he was going to read the whole thing right there.

"What is it?" I asked, not taking my eyes off of Mr. Sanderson.

"It's an agreement that you will not press charges against Darren," he explained. "In exchange, Darren will be sent away to finish out his senior year out of state and he will be prohibited from coming within two hundred feet of you."

I was shocked at his words. I frowned over at Dad who was already looking at me.

"And if you need any extra sway, there is monetary compensation for any emotional stress this incident has caused your son," Mr. Sanderson finished.

"We don't need your fucking money," Dad spat. He then looked to me with a softened expression, as if seeing if I agreed with him.

I nodded and we both looked back to Mr. Sanderson.

"We don't need your fucking money," I repeated. "If we agree to this, your son will never come near me again?"

Mr. Sanderson nodded. "So long as you do not press charges and do not make any formal accusations against him."

"So, what, are you going to sue me if I tell people what he did to me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows defiantly.

"You cannot formally accuse him publicly," he said. "Meaning to authorities or to the press. Say Darren gets a career, whether it be in football or somewhere else, and you go to the press to accuse him, then you could be sued. I don't care what you say privately."