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The girl dragged her finger down the backseat window of the car, tracing it along the path the raindrop took. After a few seconds she sighed, retracting her hand from the window.
"It lost." She said mournfully, gazing out the window, off into the distance.
"What?" The man driving the car glanced back over his shoulder quickly, not wanting to take his eyes off the road with the bad weather. Of course when they had to make the drive to Montauk it stormed for the first time in weeks.
"The raindrop I picked. It lost the race." She repeated, as if it were obvious.
Again, the man looked back over his shoulder but this time a flicker of annoyance crossed his face. He masked it quickly, but the girl still seemed to notice it. "Cleo, you know not to put your hands on the window. It leaves smudges," He corrected her gently, but that only seemed to sour Cleo's mood even more.
"You won't have to clean the smudged windows soon," Cleo retorted, clearly having picked up on her father's bout of irritation. She returned to looking out the window
"Don't say things like that." "It's true."
"Do you know why I'm taking you to this place?" Her father cut in, his frustration starting to become evident. Not with her, no, he was frustrated with himself for not being able to parent better. For not being able to explain to a thirteen year-old why he was sending her away.
There was a long silence. Finally the girl softly said "Because I'm bad."
Her father's eyes were still fixed on the road, but if he were looking at the backseat his daughter would have been able to see the pained expression on his face. The way his eyes glazed over, like if he didn't focus enough, a tear might slide down his cheek. "No Cleo, it's not because you're bad."
"That's why they send kids away. Because they're bad and they don't know what to do with them," She remarked matter-of-factly, as if at the ripe age of thirteen she simply knew that was how things worked and there were no exceptions.
