Crash and Burn

f o u r t e e n: She's Lying

Sure enough when I padded my way down the stairs the next morning, the picture of Roman and I was hanging on the fridge, in plain sight. I'm sure I'll get an earful from Gemma over that. I did my best to ignore the cringe-worthy picture as I pulled orange juice out of the fridge, poured it in a glass, then gulped it down.

"Good Morning sunshine! Are you sure you feel well enough to go to school today?" my mom asks worriedly as she takes a seat at the kitchen table, newspaper in hand.

"Mom I have to go to school, you know that. I have a French essay due today and have to present my project in Literature."

"Okay, okay. I was just making sure. Tess,a you sure are more determined than I ever was when I was your age," she smiles sadly, and I know what was coming next.

"Just like your father."

Bingo.

My chest constricts and my heart feels heavy. I was very close to my father. A daddy's girl as some would put it. Every Sunday he took Casey and I out for ice cream where we would tell him about our week and the things we were looking forward to. One time I told him that a boy in my class was making fun of my glasses, and you know what he told me?

"Right now that boy is immature and doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. You're my beautiful little girl, and one day he'll see that too."

I love you to the moon and back. That was our special saying. Every day when he dropped me off at school he would say that to me and I would say it right back.

When he died when I was fourteen and Casey was twelve, we were both heartbroken. We all had to go to a family counselor for weeks. That didn't help me deal with the great loss though, I had to continue on with my personal therapist, but I didn't like her so at the age of fifteen I decided not to go at all.

I nod my head weakly at my mother. She knew I was sensitive when it came to talking about my father, which is why we never really talked about him.

"You should be getting to school. Gemma will be here any minute," my mom changes the subject, getting up from her seat to bid me goodbye. She engulfs me in a hug, her vanilla scent infesting my nose. The smell that could comfort me the minute I felt uneasy about something. My mother was my rock.

"I love you," I breath out into her shoulder. "I love you too, pumpkin, now go before you're late," she pats my back as I pull away, then swing my bag over my shoulder.

Sure enough right as I walk out the front door, Gemma's car pulls up in my driveway, where she enthusiastically waves at me. Oh boy. She still has no clue what happened this weekend. I meant to call her, but I thought better of it and decided to tell her in person. I would have asked her to come over on Sunday but Roman was here all day and that would just be awkward.

I get in the passenger's seat, trying my hardest not to make eye contact. If I look her in the eye there's no doubt in my mind that everything will come tumbling out of my mouth at lightning speed, and she'll be so overwhelmed that she'll crash the car and we'll die.

I wasn't over-exaggerating at all.

I don't speak a word, and we sit in the car in silence. Gemma is looking over at me, a confused look on her face, and I fidget with my hands, a habit she knows I do when I'm nervous.

"Tessa?" she asks carefully, just in case I was in a bad mood. She didn't want me to explode on her, which was also another habit of mine when I was angry. I might look small and fragile but when someone gets me riled up I'm a handful.

"Yes?" I ask quietly, still not giving in to my desperate want to look at her and tell her all the horrible, and not so horrible things that occurred in the oh, so wonderful life of Tessa Lynne Walker.