The next day at the time we'd agreed upon to show Fry Cook the town, I didn't come outside. When my dad called up to tell me that he was here, I pretended to be asleep. When I finally came down, Dad didn't say anything. I think he'd realized something had happened the night before.
For the rest of the week I completely ignored him as he passed note after note to me. I let them fall on the ground by my feet and didn't bother to pick them up.
Once he called me (I don't know how he got my number) but once I registered that it was him, I hung up immediately.
I didn't know how long he'd keep this up. I thought that maybe over the weekend he'd cool down. But I was wrong.
Late Friday night I heard something outside. It sounded like hail slamming directly at my window. I got up and looked out and saw Peter. He was tossing pebbles at my window.
I turned around to go back to bed, but he'd seen me and had started calling my name. I didn't want him to wake my dad up, so I threw up the window and hissed, "What?"