She knew instantly what was happening. It sounded exactly the same as all those other times, in the last two years before her mom and dad’s marriage had broken up. As she neared the house, the sounds grew clearer, and she could make out some of the words. “What kind of parent —?” “— Your business to spy on my social life?” “Keep an eye on my daughter!” Kelly could see his car, a gold Firebird from the ’70s with two new dents in it, parked in the driveway. Kelly was going to wait until the fight was over and her dad had left before going inside. She didn’t want to get into the middle of everything. But just then it began to rain, and Kelly could hear thunder getting closer. She opened the kitchen door and went into the house. There they were, in the living room. It was a scene out of nightmares past. Her dad was pacing the living room, tossing magazines on the floor and kicking them around as he raved on and on about her mom and Ken.
