Ring Around the Rosey

Chapter 1

"I heard the door slide open; dazed, I realize that I'd fallen asleep while watching television. My father, Mark, stepped inside with a phone plastered to his ear. "Yes, I am aware of that," He said, glancing my way, "Yeah. I know... Okay... I'll keep that in mind next time... Okay... Bye." He clicked the 'end' button on his phone and tossed it next to me. "Hey, Carls."

My name is actually Carly, but for some reason, my dad thought it would be funny to call me "Carls." He thought it aggravated me. Although that aggravation quickly lost its worth after I caught on with it; it actually kind of grew on me.

"Was that work?" I asked, my tongue was dry from keeping my mouth open for too long.

"Scoot," he said to me. As he slumped into the leather sofa, a sigh escaped his mouth. "I swear, I don't know how much I can handle this bullshit job. I'm sore to the bone from all of this, and I don't even get much of anything."

"Hey, construction working isn't that bad. I hear they get free wood from that one store.... Uh, what's it called...?" I asked.

"Menards? Home Depot?"

"Bingo!" I jumped at the answer, almost happy he knew what I was talking about.

"Well you better check your sources again because I don't think that's how the world works. Plus if you think doing construction is so easy, why don't you come work for me one day. I bet you could do it with one hand tied behind your back." He scoffed.

"I think I could probably do it with just two fingers!" I replied.

"Two fingers now!" my dad rose from his seat, and glared at me.

I nodded defiantly, but sarcastically.

"Jackass," he shook his head and fell back into the sofa.

We stood there in silence for a while, delving in the bittersweet standstill.

"But hey, if you don't like construction working, why don't you just get a different job?" I proposed.

"Oh yeah?" he said, "Like what?"

"Drug dealing."

Dad couldn't help but laugh, "Yeah. That'll definitely help with our financial debt."

"It's probably better than working so much and getting what you think of as 'diddly squat.' Plus I heard the janitor at my school makes a good amount of money on the side from doing that kinda stuff."

"Note to self: look for a new school for Carls."

I grinned and rolled my eyes. There were times when I couldn't imagine how my dad could handle all of this. Being a single parent isn't easy. Especially with a fourteen year old smart mouth like me. And even despite him caring for me, he even handled himself and practically supported his construction company-he's second in charge.

He sat up and glared at me, "Shouldn't you be in bed, young lady?"

I glanced at the clock posted above the television and found that it was one thirty in the morning. "Nope," I sarcastically grimaced, hoping he would let me stay up just a while longer.

My dad slightly nudged my shoulder and said, "Come on, Sport. Get to bed."

I half sighed, half whined with a touch of over exaggeration. Despite my father caring for me, that caring can get annoying.

After I trudged up the stairs, my father watching in 'hot' pursuit behind me- just in case I bolted back downstairs and turned the television on- I stepped in my room and filed under my bedsheets. My father came by my side, kissed my forehead, and whispered, "Goodnight, Carls. See you in the morning."