Don't Forget Me

Chapter 2

The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is check my Instagram message requests, and sure enough, I have a new one from an account with no followers, no posts, and no profile picture. FarmGirl8217, aka Lisa. Not the world's most clever handle, but she was barely sixteen when she came up with it, and I'm the only one who ever sees it.

Can you meet me any earlier this morning? I have news!

My heart leaps, but then immediately deflates when I remember that I already promised Hannah and Grace I'd meet them for breakfast. Even though I could cancel, even though I want to cancel, I need to keep up some semblance of normalcy with other people in my life or they might get suspicious. And considering I already ghosted them on Friday...

Noon is the earliest I can come today :/ News!? Tell me! I type back.

I'll tell you when I see you.

Lisa! Tell me now! It's about the apartment isn't it? Did we get it???

We missed out on our first choice, but the next one we applied for isn't so bad.

I'll see you at noon ;) she replies after a minute.

I roll my eyes and let out a grumble as I delete the conversation. Lisa loves surprises, and I... can't stand them.

The moment I step out of my bedroom door, my mood is instantly killed further by the voices of a couch full of Fox News anchors carrying up the stairs. I thought my dad would be at work by now. Normally I'd give it a few minutes until the TV clicks off, but I have to get down there and get going or I'll be late for breakfast and that'll make me late for Lisa. So I take a deep breath, grit my teeth, and descend the stairs into the living room.

"This guy." The brown leather couch creaks as my dad turns around to face me, dressed in a semiclean set of coveralls with PARK'S AUTO REPAIR printed across the back in cracked vinyl lettering. "This guy ain't nobody's fool. Not like those idiots on CNN," he finishes, his thumb pointed over his broad shoulders.

I tense my jaw, biting back a snide comment. It feels like I have to do that more and more these days, and I'm not sure if he's getting more intolerant or I'm just becoming less tolerant of him.

"Morning," I force out instead, but he's already leaning back in toward the TV, which is mounted on the wall between two deer heads. He's not even listening.

Good talk.

It wasn't like this when I was growing up. Back then we actually enjoyed each other's company. He'd let me run the switch on the car lift at the garage all day, or rent a small aluminum boat and take me out fishing on the reservoir, just the two of us. He listened. But that was before Lisa, before I understood just how toxic some of his beliefs are. And before he became so obsessed with these talking heads that nothing I said could ever change his mind.

When I set our plan in motion, I didn't foresee that I'd have much trouble at all leaving him behind, considering I can barely stand to be around him now. But somehow I still feel sad about that.

I shake off the thought as I grab my car keys off the hook and head out the front door.

But just as it swings open—Oof.

I almost run smack into my mom on the front porch. She's clutching a green plastic watering can in one small hand and in the other is the WORLD'S BEST MOM mug that I got her a million years ago.

"Whoa, careful, sweetie." Her dark brown eyes widen over sun-spotted cheeks as she holds her mug out to steady the sloshing coffee.

"Sorry. I uh... didn't think you'd be here," I say, surprised to see her. It would normally take a plague of locusts to keep that lady from her Monday-morning prayer group.