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Even Bob Marley gets rejected.
I quietly jumped off the stairwell. All that I had to do was get to the door before he noticed me and I’d be free. I had a better chance of teaching a lamb to moo than making it out alive, but I had to do it. He may be as observant as a hawk and as quick as a snake, but I was as amazing as Bob Marley. If Bob Marley could do it then so could I. With a bit more determination, I edged towards the nearest wall. Inhaling deeply, I ran with a war cry echoing through the hall. I smiled as I took hold of the door knob and twisted it. The world outside welcomed me and I laughed in utter delight. I had done it.
My back straightened with newfound confidence as I walked towards my car, free as a bird. I thought it odd that I hadn’t heard anything about my escape, but quickly pushed the reasoning away. This was my glory time.
I felt my pockets for my keys, but frowned when the only things that came up were a paper clip and a crumpled carnival ticket. After searching through my bag and rechecking my pockets, I stomped my foot in frustration. I had dropped my keys on the kitchen counter when I came home last night. So that was why my dad hadn’t even commented on me running out of the house. Mumbling to myself, irritated at my idiocy, I made my way back inside. How could I have been so stupid as to forget my car keys?
The kitchen was large with various Kitchen Aid products lying around due to my mum’s obsession with them. It was the only room in the house that had white walls, but my mum would have wanted it that way. In the middle of the kitchen sat my dad.
“Forget something, did we?” he said while dangling my keys in the air. He was seated on a stool, casually sipping his coffee. Work oozed off of him with his silk blue button up shirt tucked into his black dress pants and his dark blue tie. His chocolate brown hair was combed back neatly and his posture, as straight as a ruler. With his brows furrowed, you would think that he should be debating over a bill being passed through court rather than reading a newspaper.
“That’s not fair Dad! I’m in a hurry.” I replied with a stomp of my foot. He hardly looked up and slid a plate full of scrambled eggs and toast across the granite countertop. The beautiful sight made my stomach grumble and my mouth water but I was my dad’s daughter; I had stubbornness living in my blood.
“You are not to leave until you eat your breakfast, young lady,” he ordered with a cocky smile. He put the newspaper down and pointed at the stool beside him.
“I’ll grab something from the cafeteria at lunch,” I whimpered, but took a seat across from him anyway. I ran a hand through my long hair and readjusted my glasses. No one could ever win against my dad. That was the main reason he was such an amazing lawyer.
“You’re fighting a losing battle here Haven,” he began. “You could have already been out the door.” Ignoring him I shovelled as much food as possible into my mouth, getting a disapproving shake of the head from him.
"Why in such a hurry?” Dad asked as I gulped down the last bits left and dropped the dishes in the sink. I must have broken a world record with the speed I’d eaten. I would have Carter, my best friend, check for me later. I guess true love really can make you do strange things.
“I’m going to tell him today,” I said with a proud smile, slightly puffing my chest out. I didn’t have to elaborate on who I was talking about and what exactly I was going to tell them, because my dad would know. My dad and I were as close as a proton to a neutron. After mum’s death there’d been no one else, so we’d stuck together. I knew everything about my dad and my dad knew everything about me.
“You mean Dalton Jones?”
“Yes, The Dalton Jones.” I smiled. People say love at first sight is nothing but poop, but it’s as true as the sky is blue. Dalton had my heart from the second I first saw him. It had been at the first football game of the season two years ago, back in grade nine. I had only come to watch my friend, James, play but the quarterback was the only one I had seen. What intrigued me the most was how he made football look like such a graceful and adequate sport – he would jump and run with such a pace and rhythm that my heart was pumping to the beat. Then, at the end of the game, when he had taken off his helmet and looked up at the crowd, my heart had melted. He was my Romeo, the eraser to my pencil, the pages to my book. He was The Dalton Jones to my Haven Summers. From that moment on, I had known that we were a couple destiny itself had picked out. And after years of admiring him from afar, I had decided it was time to confront him and tell him of my undying love.