Eight years ago:
“Abby, your dad is all packed. Want to go drop him off at the airport with me?” My mom yells upstairs to me.
I walk down into the foyer of our house and my mom’s tear streaked face looks up at me. Next to her stands my straight-faced dad all dressed in his military uniform. He has a small luggage bag in his hand as we walk out to the car.
The drive to the airport is silent except for the quiet sobs from my mom.
When we park in front of the airport drop-off I climb out of the car and hug my dad, “Abs, take care of your mom for me.” I realize I am crying, “Don’t cry Baby Girl, I’ll be home soon enough.”
My dad wraps his arms around me, “I love you Dad.” I climb back into the car and cry. Through my tears I watch my mom jump into my dad’s arms and they hold each other.
My dad is the one who broke the embrace. After that my mom climbs back into the car and we wave to my dad as we drove away.
Present:
A few weeks after my dad left, another man dressed in a uniform knocked on our front door. He came to deliver the news that changed my life. He told us that my dad had been killed in war.
Since that day I have only seen my mom when I bring food up to her room. She doesn’t even get out of bed anymore; the loss of my ad killed the spirit of her and her wolf.
I guess it is time to get ready for the day.
I pull on a neon pink half shirt and a pair of skinny jeans. Then, I throw on my black and white Chuck Taylors.
I don’t eat breakfast, but I make some eggs for my mom before I leave for school.
My drive to school is full of my anxiety and fear. I pull into the school parking lot for the first time in four years. My mom was having health problems so I never enrolled for grades 7, 8, 9, or 10. I have been doing all my work home and taught myself all the lessons. Finally this year I enrolled for my junior year of high school.
As I get out of my car I look around, taking in all the different groups of kids hanging out in the parking lot. As I walk to the office I get a few curious glances and some flat out stares. I don’t care though, I stopped caring… I used to be friends with these people. However, it is hard to keep up with the pack when you can’t even keep up with your mom.
The woman at the front desk in the office smiles at me as I walk in, “Hello Sweetie, what do you need?”
“I’m Abigale Taylor. I’m supposed to pick up my schedule.” I hope she can’t tell I’m nervous.
She goes through a stack of papers on her desk. While she is going through her papers a door to my right opens and a guy walks out of the Principal’s Office. He is a good foot taller than me, well built, amazing dark brown hair, and bright green eyes.
“Checking me out?” He cocks an eyebrow in my direction and smirks.
Was I checking him out? I mentally slap myself, realizing that I was actually checking him out.
“Sweetie, here are your papers.” The woman from the front desk is holding out my schedule. I go and grab the papers, thanking her. When I turn around the guy was gone.
I walk out of the office into a crowded hallway. I ignore the attention I get as I try to find my way to the correct class. The room was pretty much empty when I get there and I just assume that I am early.
