I didn't find Dad in the hall when I reached home. He had started with the flower shop since a week and I had never once tried to learn the timings of his work. But when Rob had dropped me home, I had expected him to be at the shop and was looking forward to have the home all for myself.

"You are such a big girl now, huh?" Dad's voice welcomed me as soon as I had locked the door, letting myself in.

"Dad?" I asked, unable to find a face to the voice. I walked further into the hall that connected to the kitchen.

Dad was sitting in his wheelchair, with today's newspaper in his lap, which he was probably been reading before I made my entrance. 

He looked sleep deprived, and he needed a good haircut as he hadn't gotten one since his accident. His stubble was evident even when he did his shaves every day. His eyes were terrifying, just like those times I had lied to him and had told him that I had aced an exam. Under that demon gaze, there was some pain and some amount of relief in them, making me wonder why.

"Race, huh?" He asked. He cocked one eye brow at me. "I didn't know you had grown up to have your own race and not tell your only Dad about it."

He was right to the point, not baiting me and letting me choose a story of my own to cover the things that I did. Robert had warned me about how Dan was so stupid to go and tell each and every detail to Dad, but I hadn't believed him.

I still didn't understand why Dad would be mad at me for racing. After all, wasn't he the one who was responsible for it in the first place? Wasn't he the one to gamble on everything that was owned by us, just to lose them all to someone whom he didn't even know?

I was mad at him for all the right reasons, but I couldn't confront him and tell him how much he had hurt me in the process of saving me. He was much more delicate than me.

"Yeah. And I won the first place." I did a quick dance, to showcase that I was actually proud of what I had done. In reality, with all the other things that were happening around me, I had still not wrapped my petty head around the concept of winning. May be that was a good thing. Robert always said that the wins should not be taken deep into one's head. But in my case, the win had not even registered, if it existed. "I can't believe it."

Dad looked at me, if he had raised the daughter he had known years ago. He knew that I liked to have a car of my own. I had even asked him if he could buy me one, or even a refurbished one. But he was adamant in his decisions and now, when the cars were in front of me, mocking me to race them, perhaps he thought I had won a lottery.

"You didn't tell me, Scar." He said, pain evident in his voice.

What was I supposed to tell anyway? That I was racing he should keep his calm and not worry about it?

I couldn't do that. It was because I knew why he was so inflexible in not letting me sit behind the wheel for all this time. I knew exactly how terrifying it must have been when he had learnt that I had been to a race, not as a spectator, but as a participant.

It did not mean that I didn't want him to learn about my adventures in the track. In fact, I wanted him to be there, cheering on the rails for me whenever I was in the cars for a competition. But the idea of him panicking instead of praising was lost on me and I was a little more towards the idea of letting him know about the race after I competed it. Though I was not keeping him from the updates, he sure was saved from his panics of worrying of what might happen to me.

"Dad," I sighed. "It was all sudden."

"Don't you dare give me that bullshit!" He pushed himself away from me, the newspaper fluttering from the speed he was wheeling himself. "Dan says you knew if for some days now. Of all the times we spoke, you didn't think it was important to tell that to me?"

"I thought," I started. "you hated me in there."

"Of course, I do!" He said turning towards me. "But don't you think it will be good if I knew it before hand?"

If he had known it before hand, I was sure he would have done something or the other to make sure that I stayed at home, rather than at the race.

"I'm sorry." I said instead. No matter what I was telling him, it would all go above his head and nothing would be taken seriously. "I promise I would tell you the next time."

"There's going to be a next time?" He asked, shaking his head, muttering something about talking to Calvin to make sure that I stayed put. I had a sudden urge to roll my eyes. "You are not going anywhere, young lady. Do you know how much of school you are missing 'cause of 'em?"

"Not going anywhere?" I asked him, astonished. I wanted to laugh at that. If I had stayed put like he says I'd have to, then we would both be going starving with no roof on our heads, let alone school. "Dad, you know I can't do that."

"No, Scarlet." He said, his anger mask fallen off somewhere. "It was my mess. I should be the one to be cleaning it up. Not you."

Of all the times, he had realized his mistake, it was always the time when I had done something better that what he would have done given the situation.

"I won, Dad!" I almost shouted out of frustration. "What more should I be doing?"

"Scar." He sighed.

"I've somehow blended in this now, and you can't expect me to change it for your conscience." I didn't stay back to listen to what he had to say.

I ran up the stairs into my room and shut the door with a loud thud, making sure that Dad heard it and thought that I was not changing my mind any time soon.

Though I had drunk my ass out, I was feeling like having another one, just because I could. It was not like I was having a hangover later, anyway. To forget all of these, just for a moment was worth all the hangover if it ever existed. For once, I wanted to be me, far away from responsibilities, trying to do something normal rather than battling my life.

I went into the washroom to get myself cleaned up. I would have probably been smelling like a pirate. As the ice cold water hit my skin, I was awakened by my senses and all the things I had been blabbering on, seemed to question me.

Though Dad was not around in my childhood days, he always made sure that I was fed and dressed well. Except for the fact that he was not home, there was everything - materialistic - to fill the gaps for him. I had heard stories of racer kids who were beaten and burdened with all the chores of the household and had never seen better days in their life. My Dad had made sure that it never came close to me.

I should be grateful for that.

I cleaned myself up and put on a tidy dress. I knew I had to go down and apologize to Dad for acting so immature. Winning one race was not a new discovery to cure cancer and I shouldn't have boasted about it when what he was telling was the truth. In fact, he was the only one who was trying to pull me to ground.

It was half past six when I finally came down, having my moods sorted out for good.

Dad was sitting with the same paper and I wondered if he was reading it in the first place. I knew how tensed he was when he had learnt that I was in the race which he knew nothing about. It was difficult for him too.

I walked past him and went straight into the kitchen, not yet ready to say the things I had primed when I planned to come down.

"What do you like for dinner?" I asked gingerly.

All I got as a response was a grunt. Apparently, he was having a lot of time to get adjusted to his new surroundings than me.

"Will vegetable soup do?" I asked, looking into the refrigerator. There were carrots and some potatoes that I had to consume before it was too late. "I will spice that with mash potatoes and some rice."

There was still no response from him.

"Did you watch the game last night?" I asked, not sure if there was any game that was playing. Even if there was, I was not convinced if he was watching it knowing his daughter was racing somewhere he didn't know.

I put the kettle to boil the water. Meanwhile I cut the vegetables and threw away the ones which were already gone bad.

"Luke was telling something about it." I said, immediately regretting that I had bought up the racers.

"You don't have to do this, okay?" Dad said.

"I have to." I said, grabbing a spatula. "We need to have dinner and if I don't start now, it will be too late."

Dad shook his head, muttering something that I couldn't understand. "You know what I am talking about."

I turned off the stove. I knew it was going to take a while and I was not planning to burn my kitchen when I was at it. I went towards him and sat on the couch next to him.

"Dad, I know it was hard for you to gulp that I was racing yesterday." I started. I had been practicing this speech in my room ever since the alcohol had drained down. "I had asked Calvin not to tell you just because of that."

"Sweetheart, it's not the same tracks I once raced." He reasoned. "I was talking to Dan yesterday and he tells me that almost everything has changed since I left."

"I have guys to teach me how to get past them, Dad." I consoled.

"A second is all it takes, Scar." He said. He took my hand in his and looked at me. "I don't want to lose you because of my mistakes and gambles."

"You won't." I said. "I promise to tell you about the races, once you assure me that you won't freak out for every one of them."

"You are starting to sound like your mother." He nudged my elbow.

The thought of my mother was enough to get me back to my doleful moods. Dad knew how much it affected me when he started talking about mother. It was also one of the reasons he had stopped mentioning her if he found some things I did similar to that of hers.

I had not once asked about how she was with Dad. He had abandoned me sufficient times to let my brain grasp that he was affected just as I was. As long as we didn't bring up her topic often, we were happy, at least that's what I had thought.

"Oh, honey." Dad patted my head. "I'm very happy that you won. Though there were rumors that you were acting a brat."

"I was so not a brat!" I whined, getting up to get back to my kitchen work. "It was that idiot who was acting a brat."

Dad laughed, our trivial fight forgotten and forgiven. He pulled his chair behind me, following around for more details, though I was sure Dan would have given them all.

"Robert was such a pain that I had to do that to make him behave." I said. I washed the vegetables and put them in the water, waiting for it to boil. "He then made sure that I looked like a fool in front of the whole crowd."

"Darling, being a fool makes you different from others in this perfect world." Dad said, his inner meaning evident in his words. "Don't let that word misguide you, even for a moment."

"Exactly!" I screamed, finally finding someone who had understood the concept. "That Dan was making a big fuss about it. I mean Calvin and other guys were cool about it."

"Oh."

"Yeah," I informed. As the water boiled, I put the spices that I had been using to get the soup ready. I put the rice to boil along with it. "The funeral-party people thought that it was my fault to stop in the tracks."

"So you went to that party." He said, observing my every move.

I turned towards him and I suddenly realized something. I quickly ran to my room to retrieve the only thing I had been nagging Dad for years. My jacket was still intact in the same place I had thrown in before I went for a bath.

"Look, what I earned!" My delight was obvious in my voice and I was sure my eyes danced in excitement. I put my driving license in front of Dad for him to examine. "Calvin said that you know."

Proud was something I hadn't thought I would be seeing in my Dad's eyes that night. Watching him and hearing him constantly telling me that driving was something too low to be considered a career, I had expected him to throw tantrums and spit at the mean world which had made it possible for me to have a DL of my own.

"That's..." He trailed, not knowing how to put what he felt in terms of words. "I'm glad."

We sat for dinner, talking about almost everything - from the weather to his new work. It seemed that Paul, his employer was more that happy that he was able to help Dad out and he, obviously didn't know Dad was a racer and thought that he was doing the right thing by hiring a physically challenged person into his nest of flowers. Wanting to keep his previous job a secret, Dad was happy to be just what Paul had assumed him to be. 

It was all perfect - according to Dad at least.

"Tablets." I handed him the pills he was supposed to be taking until we met the doc for the month's appointment. I was sure that his pain had decreased a bit, but the swelling was still there and the purple color of the bruise had still time to die down.

"I didn't see you come home yesterday." Casually Dad brought up the subject that I hadn't mentioned yet.

I was very careful in not bringing up that topic and wanted to keep it that way. I didn't know how he would react if he came to know that I had had a sleep over in one of the racer's place.

"Um, yeah." I said, tucking my hair behind my ears, as I tentatively planned for my next words. "The party went on till late two."

"Dan said you were hitching a ride with Bert." Dad said, drinking water.

I sighed. Though we had bonded with some vegetable soup over dinner, I was not sure how well he might take the news that I had drank four bottles of beer that was mixed with some precious goods and then passed out just to be woken awake in a racer's house.

"It was late." I repeated again. "And Robert's house was nearer and so..."

"God, Scarlet!" Dad shook his head. "Do you know how dangerous it is to be in a guy's place at night, especially a racer? What if something had happened?"

"Dad," I sighed. "Rob's not like that or any other guys in the track, for that matter. They all know that I'm your daughter and they wouldn't do anything funny with me."

"I know." He said. "But a Dad can worry right?"

"Besides, Dan would kill anyone before they can do anything." I added.

He laughed. "He sure will."

But I was soon going to kill him for ratting everything out to my Dad. 

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A/N: Ah, a Robert less chapter. But it was required. After such exhaustive events, our Scarlet needs a normal day, doesn't she? What do you think of the story so far?