Forgotten memories

Birthday Cards

My eyes adjusted to the October morning. I try to read my notes in the dark, but that was a no go.

I roll on the side of my bed and reach out from my cozy, and warm comforter to turn on my lamp that I will forever have. I stretch and look down at my red thermal pjs: I don't remember putting these on?

As I lay back against my pillow, I squint from the light as I try to read my notes inches away from my face, I read.

10/24 (sun.)

Outfit:
- Red thermal pjs all day.
-long sleeve teal sweater, dark skinny jeans, and brown ankle boots for school in the morning.

School:
-Take Spanish-English dictionary to spanish.
-Anatomy quiz (study quide on desk)
-Start on ceramics project
-Look over Trig work (might be pop quiz.)

Other:

-Lydia is still acting weird from Friday's conversation (reread Fridays notes, told me NOT to tell her anything about her future)
-Notes about Lydia and me talking about dads made me curious..went through moms room today. Crazy what I found. Envelope under jewelry box. Keep hidden from mom for now.
-Luke didn't call..again (reread notes, he's amazing besides the no calling thing)

I fling off the comforter and waddle over to the desk. I grab my study guide and the overstuffed envelope from under my jewelry box. As I walk back to my bed, I can't help but look at the framed photos of Lydia and I back in junior high. Without being able to remember for sure, I can only assume that life was a whole lot easier then.

Twenty minutes pass, my mom knocks and I rush to cover up the things from the envelope. When I don't answer, she opens the door anyway.

"I knocked," she says.

"I know,"

"You're going to be late if you don't hurry,"

"Okay,"

"What's wrong?" She asks as a funny look plasters across her face.

You tell me, I think to myself.

"Nothing. Why?" I say instead.

"You seem...off. Especially last night, too," she explains, one hand on the door with the other on the door frame.

"Well, I'm not," I retort.

"Okay, fine. Don't tell me. just hurry up, you're going to be late." She turns and closes the door behind her.

Fifteen minutes later, during the ride to school, she interrupts my thoughts.

"Is this because of that boy?"

I whip my head from the window to her. "Did you read my notes? That's a total invasion of my privacy!" I snap.

"Whoa," she calmly says. " I most certainly did not read your notes, Rosetta Marie, I would never do that. Why would you think that?"

"Because you know about him!"

"Rose, you told me about him," she says with an annoying smile.

"Oh, well I don't want to talk about him,"

"What ever you want," my mom says. Thankfully, we've arrived at school.

The moment that my mom stops in the drop-off zone, I jump out, slam the door, and walk purposefully inside.

As the morning progresses, my anger towards my mom being secretive morphs into anger toward the world. When Jackson Palmer accidentally hits me in the thigh with a volleyball during PE, I chuck it back to him.

Hard.

What Page Thomas approaches me about her stupid crush. I silence her with just one look.

When the gorgeous goth girl who will spend most of the day in the bathroom runs into me, I don't apologize.

And when I throw open the library doors and storm through the metal detectors, and march to my seat for study hall, I'm ready to tell Luke how I feel about him not calling or I'll just end up ignoring him completely.

But then he arrives. And speaks.

"Want to come to my house for lunch today?" He asks, all dimple and brown eyes.

"Yes," I say. "yes, I do,"

~~~~~

"What's that?"

Lydia is way too nosy sometimes. I've opened my bag to put my Spanish text book in it before class, and she manages to see the envelope in under two seconds.

"Nothing," I say, glancing at the envelope as I throw the book bag over my shoulder.

She glares at me. Not buying my "Nothing"

"Fine," I give in. I pull her away from my locker and lead her to Spanish. "It really isn't a big deal though I guess,"

"Sounds interesting," she says, looping her arm through mine. Lydia and I will always be like this; arm in arm. It's our special thing and I like it. Especially this morning, when I'm feeling like I need her strength to get me through the day.

"It's some old photos and other things," I say quietly, as if it's a secret.

"Of who?" Lydia asks.

"Of my dad," I say, wincing.

"You and this dad thing lately.." her voice trails off as she looks ahead to navigate us through the busy hallway.

"I found them hidden in my moms closest with some of my dad's old suits and ties,"

" You were snooping in your moms room? What a rebel," she smirks, totally missing the point.

"Yes," I say without explaining. "But that's not even the worst part."

"Oh?" Lydia says quizzically.

"He sent me birthday cards when I was little," I say, feeling sick. Exactly four that my mom hid from me.

"What did they say?"

"Just normal stuff," I lie. Honestly, the cards are depressing. They're almost apologetic.

Lydia and I walk in silence the rest of the time to Spanish, me thinking about my dad and Lydia gripping my arm tightly.

Thank you to all you readers! I appreciate everyone sticking with me through this. Read, comment, and vote!