I roll my suitcase out to the curb of the arrivals lane and wait for Molly to pick me up since my father has more important things to do. My stomach has been in knots since my mom dropped me off at the Tampa airport this morning, but dread lifts the moment I see my best friend.
As soon as she jumps out of the car, we run into each other’s arms and squeal like the schoolgirls we are. Even though I only moved a month ago, it feels like I haven’t seen her in forever, and I’m already wishing I could steal Molly away and bring her back to Florida with me.
“Look at your tan,” she crows dramatically. “I’m so hating on you right now.”
I laugh and shove my suitcase into her trunk and soon enough we’re on the road.
“I’ve missed you so much. Seriously, this texting relationship we have going is depressing.”
Pulling out my phone, I shoot a quick message to let my mom know I’ve made it safely. “Tell me about it. It sucks worse on my end, so don’t complain.”
“Oh, please.”
“It’s true,” I argue. “You’re still here with all your friends while I’m bored out of my mind and texting you like a needy wench. It’s tragic.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right. Palm trees and beaches. Sounds real tragic,” she mocks. “I don’t feel sorry for you.”
I reach over and grab her hand, and she gives mine a gentle squeeze. Our friendship stems back to elementary school. We never lived in the same neighborhood, but our moms always made sure we were in the same class every year, plus we were together every Sunday morning at our Kids’ Bible Club. To say we’re simply friends would be an understatement—we’re more like sisters.
“So, any new updates on this Kason guy you’ve been pining after?”
“I wouldn’t call it pining.”
She tilts her head to me accusingly. “You spy on the guy while he cleans your pool. If that isn’t pining, I don’t know what is.”
“I should never have told you that.”
“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, creeper,” she says with a giggle. “But seriously, did you ever get a picture? I’m dying to see what he looks like.”
“Talk about being a creeper. He probably thinks I’m weird enough without him catching me taking stalker pics of him to text out to randoms.”
Her jaw drops and she laughs. “Did you just call me a random?”
I throw her an obnoxious smile before adding, “And no, there’s nothing new. Although, he’s been nicer to me since that humiliating night when he caught me crying. Oh my god, I still want to die every time I think about it.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” she says through her laughter.
We spend most of the day together, falling into familiar routines easily. We stop by the mall for lunch and do some shopping before heading over to her house. The afternoon flies by while we hang out in her bedroom. She catches me up on all the gossip from my old high school, but it’s when she confesses that she kissed Robbie Fletcher that I slam her good with one of her pillows.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I exclaim, and she loses herself to a fit of awkward giggles.
“I just did.”
“You should’ve told me last week when it happened.”
“I know,” she responds, straightening and shifting into a more serious tone. “But I didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t say anything afterward, and it was . . . weird. Plus, it was the first time I ever kissed a guy. I didn’t know what I was doing, so I was embarrassed.”
“You overthink things.”
“Maybe to you, hooker,” she teases.
“Oh my god! I’ve kissed one boy, and now I’m a hooker?”
The two of us fall back onto the bed and continue to tease each other relentlessly, and then I make her tell me every detail of her first kiss with Robbie. She blushes and covers her face while I secretly daydream about what it would be like to kiss Kason. We’re two seventeen-year-olds who’ve embraced our prudish ways because boys have never been a priority to us until now, unlike some of our other friends who’ve been crushing like mad since puberty hit.
“So, what’s going on with the two of you now?” I ask when I sit up.
“He asked me to go with him to the Spring Fling dance.”
I smile over at her. “I can’t believe this. I move away, and you get your first boyfriend.”
“Girls, dinner!” Her mom, Suzanne, calls from downstairs.
I eye the spread of food on the dining table. “I’ve missed your cooking.”
I’ve always been able to count on coming over here whenever I’ve wanted a home-cooked meal. With my mother’s career being so demanding, restaurants and takeout have always been the main staple in our household.
I dig into the enchiladas and guacamole while Suzanne asks me about Florida, my new school, and my mom’s job. When I can’t put off going to my dad’s house any longer, I thank her mom for dinner and get back into Molly’s car.
“Call me tomorrow, okay?”
I reach over and give her a hug. “I will.”
I pull my suitcase out of the trunk, and watch as she drives away before walking toward the house. You know you’ve become estranged from your parent when you have to knock on their front door to be let in.
“Well, there you are,” Gwen says as I stand on the porch. “We were starting to wonder if you’d show up.”
I step inside and she takes my bag before pulling me into a hug I don’t want. This woman tries much too hard to pretend to like me, but only when I’m in her presence. Any other time, I’m nonexistent.
“Garrison, Ady is here,” she calls out to my dad, but Parker beats him into the foyer.
“Ady’s here!” he squeals as he barrels into me with a big hug, and I can’t help myself when I hug the little squirt back. I can’t hold it against him that his mom and my dad are too self-absorbed to make any real effort with me.
My dad makes his appearance and wraps one arm around me in a side hug. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hey, Dad.”
“How was your flight?”
“It was fine. How was the soccer game?” I ask. Not that I care.
He takes his hand and musses Parker’s hair, saying proudly, “The little guy scored three goals and made some impressive blocks.”
Gwen steps behind her son and places her hands on his shoulders. “We really wish you could’ve been there, but you’ll be able to see him play Tuesday night.”
“Great,” I mutter before we all fall into an unpleasant silence. I drop my eyes to my feet as I shift uncomfortably, and I almost want to thank Gwen when she breaks the tension, asking, “Have you eaten dinner?”
“Yeah. I ate over at Molly’s house.”
She nods before turning to my dad. “Honey, why don’t you help her with her suitcase. I’m sure she’s tired from the plane ride.” Looking to me, she adds, “Let me know if you need help settling in.”
She could easily fool you into believing she actually cares, but actions speak way louder than her words ever could. I’ll always think of her as the woman my father left my mother for instead of the stepmother she sucks at being.
I follow my dad up the stairs and into the room they set aside for me to stay in for the week.
“There are towels in the bathroom for you.”
“Thanks.”
I lift my suitcase onto the bed before turning to face my father, who stands stiffly next to the door.
I wish he would smile.
I wish even more that he would hug me. A real hug. The way he used to before the woman downstairs came into our lives and ripped our family apart.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he finally says before ducking out and shutting the door behind him. It doesn’t stay closed for more than a minute before Parker comes barging in.
“Knock much?”
“What are you doing?”
I drop a handful of pajama tanks into a dresser drawer. “What does it look like?”
He walks over and jumps up on the bed. “Want to hang out?”
“Not really,” I sigh as I carry my toiletry bag to the en suite bathroom, and when I walk back into the bedroom, he’s messing around on my phone. “Do you mind?” I swipe it out of his hands.
“You got any games on that thing? I keep asking Mom for a cell phone, but she always says no.”
“You’re seven. What do you need a phone for?”
He looks at me as if I just grew a second head and exclaims, “So I can play games.”
“Out,” I announce, pointing toward the hall, and when he rolls off the bed with a groan and leaves the room, I lock myself in for the night.
Once I’m completely unpacked, I take a shower and get ready for bed. I pick up my cell, turn off the lamp on the nightstand, and shoot my mom another text.
Me: Gwen puts lavender in the dresser drawers. My clothes are going to smell like an old lady.
I flip through my contacts while I wait for her to text me back and come across Kason’s name. My finger hovers over the icon that would start a new text thread. I want to push it and send him a message, but what the heck would I even say? His number has been in my phone for over a week now, and I still haven’t used it. Not that I haven’t wanted to, because I have. He just makes me nervous, and I hate that I’m so uncertain about how I should be with him.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and I click on the notification that holds my mom’s return text.
Mom: We’ll get everything laundered when you get back. In the meantime, try not to be too judgmental while you’re there. Make the best of it.
Me: She folds the toilet paper into a point, Mom. How do you expect me not to judge a person based on that alone?
Mom: Promise me you’ll try to enjoy your trip.
Me: Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.
Mom: You’re my favorite, you know that?
I smile because she has always been the one person there for me no matter what.
Me: You’re my favorite, too. G’night.
Everyone is already in the kitchen, dressed, and eating when I drag myself downstairs.
“Oh, you’re still in your pajamas,” Gwen notes when I walk into the kitchen.
I look over to the clock on the stove. “It’s only eight.”
“Which means it’s nine o’clock in Florida. A tad late to be rolling out of bed. We need to leave in fifteen minutes.”
“To go where?”
She opens the fridge and hands my dad a carton of organic milk so he can pour some into his coffee thermos. “It’s the first day of registration for the summer camps at the children’s museum. We need to get there early before the classes Parker wants fill up.”
I look over to Parker, who’s sitting at the bar top and shoveling heaping spoonfuls of some all-natural, gluten free, dye free, taste free cereal into his mouth.
“I think I’ll pass on this particular family outing.”
Gwen looks to my dad and then me before landing back on my father.
“Let her stay,” he tells her.
She picks up her purse and keys. “You ready, Parker?”
He hops off the stool, saying, “Bye, Dad,” as he runs to the garage, and I swear my hearts palpitates in the worst way possible.
When I hear the door close behind them, I turn to look my dad dead on, but he’s oblivious to the reason behind the menacing sharpness in my eyes.
“He calls you dad?”
“Could you go easy on Gwen? She’s trying to make sure you feel included.”
“Like she did when she picked me up from the airport yesterday?” My voice reeks of annoyed sarcasm before I return to the other situation. “Why does Parker call you dad?”
“Because I’m married to his mom. Because I’m raising him. Because we’re a family. Give the kid a break, he’s only seven.”
“And what about me? Where do I fit into this family?”
Irritated, he grabs his briefcase and coffee. “I’m wondering the same thing, Ady. Because your attitude toward us makes it seem like you don’t want to even try to be a part of our family.”
“The fact that I have to try to be a part of anything is so messed up. It shouldn’t be a matter of trying, Dad, I should just be.”
“Then just be and stop making it so difficult on everyone,” he states before walking out of the kitchen, and when he leaves for work, I’m determined to be gone before Gwen and Parker return from the museum.
Me: Can you come pick me up?
Molly: Be there in twenty.
The next few days pass with uneventful tension. Conversations with my dad and Gwen are artificial and underlined with unspoken discomfort. My dad has been at work every day, leaving me here with the step-family. I’m trying to stay in the background, so when I’m not hanging out with my friends or spending time with Parker, I’m hiding away in my bedroom.
Tonight, I won’t be able to get away with that since my dad has insisted that I stay in for a family dinner. I scoffed when he called it that. He wasn’t amused.
I can smell the roast that Gwen’s been tending to in the kitchen while I lie in bed and text Micah, who’s still in Tampa. He said he’d rather stay home alone than go on vacation with his parents. So they left, and he’s been at the beach every day while I’m being subjected to the horrors of teenage angst.
“Dinner’s ready,” Parker announces when he bursts into my room.
“Any chance I can get you to smuggle a plate and bring it up here? I’ll pay you ten bucks.”
“Maybe for twenty,” he counters with a mischievous grin.
I set my phone on the nightstand and get off the bed. “What do you need twenty dollars for anyway?”
“To buy the cell phone mom won’t get me.”
“That’s going to cost you a lot more than twenty bucks, squirt,” I tell him as we head downstairs.
My dad is already sitting at the head of the table when I walk into the dining room. Since Gwen is sitting to his left, I sit next to Parker, who’s between my father and me.
“I hope you like roast,” Gwen says, and I respond with a light, “Mm-hmm.”
We eat, and I listen while the three of them talk about a trip to Colorado they’re going on to visit Gwen’s family during summer break. Plans to go hiking in Estes Park and cherry picking are discussed, without a single mention of my inclusion. At this point, I’d almost rather not be involved to avoid constantly feeling as if I’m the outcast. My time here hasn’t felt good at all. It’s the never-ending heaviness in the pit of my stomach, reminding me that I’m not wanted. I can’t seem to figure out what it is about me that has my father distancing himself so much when we used to be so close.
After Gwen clears dinner from the table and brings out the icebox cake she made earlier, I get an uneasy feeling in my gut when my father says, “So, there’s something we wanted to tell you kids.”
Gwen looks at Parker with a big smile as she serves us slices of cake. When she takes her seat, my dad covers her hand with his. The doting expression he gives her makes me want to regurgitate the roast I just ate.
While Parker inhales his dessert, mine remains untouched.
“What is it you want to tell us?” I ask.
She shoots an exciting smile to my dad again, and when he gives her a nod, she beams, “We’re having a baby!”
My eyes dart to my father, and his prideful smile sickens me. “Are you serious?”
Gwen’s excitement deflates as all attention redirects to me, but I can’t hide the shock I wear so blatantly on my face.
“You’re pregnant?” I fume with distaste in my mouth, and before she can say anything, Parker perks up at my side.
“I’m going to be a big brother!”
“Don’t get too excited.”
“Ady!” my father scolds.
“What? Seriously, Dad, you can barely pick up the phone to call me, yet, you’re going to have another kid?”
“That’s enough, young lady.”
“I know this is a lot to take in,” Gwen interjects, her voice needling on my nerves. “But you’re father and I are very excited to be—”
“Can you stop,” I bite out harshly. “I’m so sick of your fake Disney-sweet voice, talking to me as if you’re so delighted I’m here when we both know the truth.”
“Then why the hell are you even here?” My father’s voice booms loudly when he stands, and I meet his stance, seething in my own anger. “You apologize right now.”
“Apologize? You can’t be serious.” Fury for what these two have done boils beneath my skin. “She should be the one apologizing to me for being a home-wrecker.”
“I beg your pardon.”
I glare at her. “You had no right doing what you did.”
She instantly turns to Parker and tells him to go to his room, and when he’s out of earshot, she stands and tosses her napkin onto the table. “How dare you come into my house and talk to me with such disrespect.”
“This is what I’m talking about, Dad. Her house. Not yours . . . not ours. I don’t even know why I’m here when I’m clearly not wanted.” I turn back to Gwen and lash out, “And I’m not some random houseguest you’re hosting, I’m family, whether you like it or not. So, can we all agree that you’re only pretending to like me to appease him?”
“I’ve had enough of this. She is my wife, and I will not tolerate you speaking to her like this. You either apologize this instant or you can find someplace else to stay.”
“You’re seriously going to kick me out?”
He stands cold with his fists on his hips and doesn’t say another word. His silence is a knife to my heart. The realization that my biggest fear isn’t some illusion I’ve built up in my head is devastating.
Sadness cuts through the anger, and when I blink, tears fall, but he still doesn’t budge.
He doesn’t want me.
He isn’t affected at all.
So, why on earth would I stay where I’m not wanted?