Two Wrongs

𝑁𝑒𝑤 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙

Happiness was a dire luxury, it was as temporary as life itself and no one could ever grasp it in its fullness. Faking it was a tiring talent because one could only pretend for so long.

It seemed that the only thing that continued to reapply the glue to my cracking mask of content was rolled-up green leaves and white dust. How could this fraction of an amount make my day better before it even began? To piece together everything and nothing all at once and relieve me of all my stresses.

I had mastered an amount that could keep me at peace long enough with an additional perk of not revealing my incoherence.

I inhaled the last of what Tim had given me off the cold marble tiling of my bathroom sink, closing my eyes to savour the feeling. I hadn't gotten through a day here without a bit of it.

I lifted my head to the mirror, fixing my hair and checking to make sure my nose was clean. I wiped from my eye a lingering tear and gazed for a bit. A smile spread across my face that came easily, no tension in my cheeks or grinding of my teeth to compliment the glimmer of ecstasy that enlarged my pupils.

"You're ok now," I told the girl in the mirror before I exited the bathroom to the faint sound of my father yelling my name from downstairs, telling me that if I didn't get down there now I'd be late for class. I was already dressed, I just hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

I grabbed my things and hurried down, meeting him in the foyer. His arms were folded and his angled brows thinned with impatience.

"Have you eaten?" He asked.

I nodded, not having caught my breath enough to speak.

"Let's go," he ordered , lifting the car keys out of the ceramic bowl on the entry table and started towards the door.

"Why are you taking me?" I asked tentatively, following him out the door.

"Because I feel like it," he uttered dismissively.

I didn't know whether I was more shocked or terrified. Nausea plunged an endless pit into my stomach and my heart's rate was no longer steady. I didn't argue and reached to open the back door. As he took his seat behind the wheel he stopped me and told me to sit in the front.

Within my silent panic I listed everything I had done recently that could possibly explain this weird circumstance and questioning why I might be punished.

I hesitated to follow his order and sit next to him in the front. When I closed the door to the Benz and buckled my seatbelt he pulled out of the driveway.

In a continuous motion, I crumpled the green fabric of my pleated skirt in my fist to control my agitation and prevent any further sweating of my palms. I stole glances at his unshaven visage to maybe decipher his very veiled expression.

I didn't know what to make of his silence and sudden want to take me to school for the first time ever. He was often very vocal and transparent when he was angry or in a bad mood. There were obvious tellings to his discontent that I could spot and know to stay out of his way. When he was quiet and I had no way of reading him was when he scared me the most.

I couldn't calm the frenzy my thoughts were in. Even when I did nothing it was something to them so I didn't now what conclusion to draw.

I wound down the window to let out the tension and ease my uneasiness.

"Dad?" My voice croaked with apprehension, that I cleared after. "Is something wrong?"

He shook his head then said, "You know, there is nothing you could attempt to hide from me and succeed," he reminded me.