"Just sign here and here," said the secretary, indicating towards the lines on the piece of paper that would ensure that I be good. The secretary glared at me silently as my Dad scribbled his name down and read the paper. I couldn't help but let my lips curve into a small smirk. Miss Harrison, the secretary, clenched her teeth and narrowed her eyes even further.
"Is that it?" asked my father, breaking up our little staring contest. Miss Harrison nodded and sent him a wink. I felt bile rising in the back of my throat. What the fuck? It's like she wanted me to punch her. My Dad avoided her eyes after that and grabbed my wrist, pulling me away from her and out of the building. I looked up at him and noticed the crease lines on his forehead and the wrinkles forming. I couldn't help but feel bad. I did that.
"So, I'm kind of hungry," I said, feeling my stomach grumble for the hundredth time.
He gave me this weird look, laughed, and slowly asked,"Well, that's certainly not a surprise."
I grinned and knocked my shoulder against his. "Hey. I'm not the one who ate the whole stinking cheese cake last Christmas." My Dad smiled sheepishly and shook his head in amusement. "It's good to have you back, squirt." I couldn't help but chuckle.
"It's good to be back," I admonished, letting my grin appear. He ruffled my hair and opened the car door for me. "Hop in, little lady." I stepped onto the small step and made myself comfortable in the car. As my Dad, walked around to the other side, I couldn't help but think about what might happen once I got home. Mom would probably be happy and my sister...well, nevermind -- I don't want to think about my sister. I don't even want to call her that. I sighed and looked at my Dad. He hopped in and put the car on drive.
After a few minutes, we were turning into the familiar street with the clean cut grass and shiny picket fences and little chairs on the lawn with the toddler toys spilled all over the green. It was home. Or at least I think it is. I couldn't really say. The small, red porsche came into view and I couldn't help but cringe at the thought of still having that car.
My Dad parked next to the driveway. I didn't know what to do. Everything was happening so fast and I couldn't really do anything. I shakily got out of the car, forcing myself to look at the house I was raised in all my life. Its neat yellow paint with white trim and beautiful balcony. The potted plants on the porch step that took me the whole summer to take care of. It was all there. I couldn't breathe.
I felt a nudge. I turned to my Dad and nodded, taking deep breaths. I walked up the porch steps and waited as my Dad searched his pocket for the keys. The small jingle of the keys had my heart beating a mile a minute. The door opened and the smell of pancakes hit me.
Since when did anyone in this household know how to make pancakes? Besides me.
Stepping inside, I took a look around. No one was in the living room. I inwardly sighed and headed straight towards the kitchen with my Dad on my heels. Summer was there, flipping over the little circles. She smiled at my Mom and when her eye caught mine -- she stopped. The happiness in her eyes vanished and the spatula she was holding, fell.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, turning red in anger and clutching the spatula. My Mom whirled around to see who might have upset my sister. None other than me. My Mom gaped at me and tears trickled down her cheeks. I licked my lips and forced myself to speak. Nothing came out.
"Now Summer, that's no way to speak to your sister," said my Dad, chastisingly. I glared at the ground. I couldn't believe it. I took the fall for her and already she tried replacing me.
Cooking, getting along with my Mother, dressing like me. She wearing my clothes. I breathed in and out. "Missed me?" I said, cheekily. My Mother continued staring at me and crying silently while Summer attempted to control her anger.
"A- Autumn," said my Mom, smiling. I couldn't help but smile at my Mom. Damn, I missed her. She came towards me and brought me into a hug. "I've missed you so much," she said, sobbing into my shoulder. I stroked her hair and said nothing. Summer narrowed her eyes at me.
"Get her the fuck away from me! She's a fucking murderer!" screamed Summer, red at the face and pointing the kitchen utensil at me. I flinched at her tone and softly nudged my Mom off me. I knew what Summer said wasn't true. But, I didn't know what to do. What do you do when the person who was responsible for it all, accused you of their wrong doing? I asked myself this while in jail.
The answer was? Nothing. You move the fuck on.