Prodigal

Prologue

                                                                The one who seeks finds.

                                                                         Matthew 7: 8

                                                                                *******

                                                                        PROLOGUE

        It began with meatloaf.

        My father and I sat silently across from each other at the dinner table, while my mother fussed around us, shoveling heaps of mashed meat onto our plates. On the surface, it seemed just like any other night of the past seventeen years of my life. 

        Except my mother’s platinum blonde hair, which was always perfectly coifed even in the Georgia heat, showed signs of frizzing, and for the first time since I could remember, her lips were devoid of her signature Maybelline Red Revival lipstick.

        I should have known something was wrong, even before she spoke.

        “We’re moving to Texas?” I asked, losing control of all motor skills, and the sound of my dropped utensils reverberated throughout our tiny kitchen. “Is this some kind of joke?” 

         Without missing a beat, my mother picked them up off the floor and replaced them with an even shinier set from the dishwasher. As if new utensils could make everything all right again. 

        “Now, Lexy,” she said, her green eyes big and shiny as she continued to hover over me, waiting to add more food to my plate. “You’ll see, Preston Hills is just darling.”

        I sat, unable to speak or eat, my new fork buried uselessly in a huge pile of mashed potatoes.  

        She gave a big sigh and fixed me with a look of concern. “Lexy? Honey?” 

        “You can’t be serious!” I said, my voice finally returning. 

        “Your father and I have decided it’s time for a change,” she said, avoiding my glare to scoop more buttery potatoes onto my father’s plate. “You know, we’re not getting any younger sweetie, please understand—” 

        “But this is my senior year—”

        “And we’re sorry. I know this is hard on you, but you’re young. You’ll adapt. Maybe you’ll even make some new friends.”

        I knew her words were supposed to be comforting, but it wasn’t just the thought of losing Pilar, my only real friend, that terrified me. 

        My entire future was on the line.

        “You can’t do this to me. Not after I just made editor!” I felt my face go hot. “You know how much this means to me. I didn’t spend the last three years killing myself just to give it all up now because you and Dad are having some kind of midlife crisis.” 

        “I told you I didn’t want you spending all your time on that silly school paper anyway,” my father said with a growl. My palms started to sweat a little. “Maybe this move will finally help you focus,” he said, the lines on his face pulled taut around his eyes.