Prudence didn't know when she fell asleep, but the living room had gone dark except for the blue glow of the television when the front door opened. In the dim lighting, Mr. Pryde's face resembled the Pryde of her nightmares. He met her gaze and then glanced at Wendell curled up on the other end of the couch before stomping upstairs.

Prudence sat rigid on the couch as Mr. Pryde shouted, "Boy, did you take the truck? I told you not to go off driving without asking me. You could have run off the road and ended up floating over to Canada." There was a pause and then Mr. Pryde said, "Don't sass me, boy. I can break down that fucking door if I want."

Prudence strained to hear what happened next, but couldn't make out anything more than hushed voices. Finally she heard Mr. Pryde stomp off and another door slam. Still Samantha didn't come downstairs to find them. She doesn't care, Prudence thought. She found the button to turn off the television so no one could see her cry.




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