Daughter of Luka (LGBT+)

Six 🌑

I rushed down to breakfast, the next morning, with all of the excitement of someone who hadn't eaten in approximately sixteen hours. 

"Bacon, my favourite," I grinned, as my father plated me up some. 

He gave a small shake of his head, as he observed how quickly I scoffed it down. 

"Nice evening?" he asked me. 

"Yes!" I said cheerfully, "And look at me," I added, pinching my skin. "I'm alive!" I said, in an over-dramatic tone. 

My father chuckled gently at my theatrics. 

"Always a  good thing," he said. 

"Is it? I'm not too much of an irritating daughter, then?" I asked, my eyes brightening at the question. 

My father just smiled pleasantly at me, in that weird meaningful way that he always did. I could tell he was thinking about my mother again. Apparently, I had inherited her eyes. The warm colour of them was similar, but mine were slightly less deep-set than hers had been. Her eyes had always had so much depth to them, so much character, I had always thought. 

"No. You're amazing, Ophelia, but I think you know that much already," he said, as he pressed a gentle kiss to my temple. 

I smiled this time around. I was glad that I had him around to boost my self-esteem, even while I didn't have many friends- at least I had a great dad. 

As I thought about the whole friends thing, I decided it was about time I cheer my dad up a bit. 

"I met a girl. May have mentioned her already, may have not- you know my Dory memory all too well. The point is, I met a girl called Kate yesterday and she's really lovely! She's helping me with my maths," I explained. 

My father's smile only grew when I told him this, as I knew it would. 

"I'm glad. Maybe she will keep you out of those forests," he said. 

I sighed. I should have known that one was coming. 

"Dad, I can take care of myself, you know, believe it or not. I'm not entirely dim-witted. I'm just entirely terrible at maths," I said. It wasn't a lie. 

"I wish you would keep out of them, for my own peace of mind," he said. 

"There were no serial killers. No wolves," I said. It was meant to have been a joke, but my father's eyes widened, revealing his perturbations. 

"Is this what this is all about? You've read the stories too, huh?" I asked him. 

My father raised an eyebrow at me. 

"No," he said abruptly. 

I forced a smile upon my face. 

"I'll be fine, dad," I said. It seemed like the most common phrase for me of late, but I wished he would accept it as the truth. I tried to stay out of trouble, for the most part, no matter how much fun said trouble could bring me. I was going to have to stay out of those forests for a short while, at least, which sucked, but at least it might bring his peace of mind back. "I'll paint the forest later," I added. 

His expression didn't become any less serious. 

I exhaled in mild annoyance. 

"It'll be fine," I tried to reassure him, "It's only painting. I've been doing that since I was seven-" 

"That's not what bothers me," my father cut in, "What bothers me is your preoccupation with these forests- a preoccupation, I daresay, you're not going to let go of any time soon."

Why should I? 

"Because I am your father and this is what I have asked of you," he answered. 

It would have seemed that I asked that question out loud. I frowned. 

"I'm going to go to school soon," I said, as I began to preoccupy my mind with thoughts of bacon instead of thoughts of irritation. Bacon was much preferred. 

After I had finished eating, I placed my plate into the dishwasher and then walked upstairs to grab my sketchbook, so I could add some final details to a picture of an elm tree that I had been working on. 

I then pushed the sketchbook into my backpack and made my way downstairs again, out the front door, and into my father's car.

The journey to school was uncomfortably silent. And of course silence can be peaceful, but this one certainly wasn't. 

I knew that my father hated fighting, so his only alternative to that appeared to be the silent treatment. 

It truly sucked, given that I wasn't quite sure how my actions from the previous evening deserved this. Nevertheless, I had to trust that in time he would get over it. It wasn't that big of a deal, after all now, was it? 

I was glad that it wasn't raining, despite the usual unpredictability of the Autumn weather, because my father had ended up parking quite far away from school, given that the roads were completely packed with cars. 

I was going to have to remind myself to leave earlier tomorrow, before rush hour. I considered that I could, perhaps, catch a lift with Kate. I thought wistfully to myself about how that would end my current predicament with my father, too. 

As I walked in through the front entrance, I spotted Kate by her locker. She caught my gaze and lifted a hand to wave at me. 

I waved back. 

Unfortunately, it appeared that she wasn't waving at me, but rather some hot final year boy behind me. At least, I assumed she found him hot because ever since I had arrived at this school, I had heard people going on about Uziel Krashny. His name was strange, but when you're named Ophelia your name judgement availability goes right down. 

He moved a hand through his dark hair and grinned, revealing a set of perfect white teeth, as he waved back at Kate. 

I sighed. 

He was not about to steal my maths partner. 

I walked around the six-foot-five giant and towards Kate. 

"Good morning," I said. 

She pulled her eyes from Uziel, thankfully, otherwise I may have 'accidentally' stepped on her toes to gain her attention. 

"Morning, Ophelia," she replied, as she beamed back at me.