Dielive [ENGLISH]

ONE

I better hurry up or Dad will change his mind about dropping me off at the airport. I want to go, plus, I love Florida. Who doesn't? It's summertime. I can't wait to sunbathe on the Miami beach in a bikini and watch the sunset like every year. But this vacation will be different. The thought of it makes my heart heavy.

Dad is standing in front of the door – it's been half an hour, but he's not upset at all. Even though I spent half an hour getting ready, I'm just wearing a red plaid shirt over a plain white T-shirt and jeans while Dad is more presentable in a striped blue shirt with suspenders tied around his shoulders over his black work pants.

"Did you bring your sunscreen, Nad?" he asks.

"Yes, Dad."

"You don't look like you want to go," he says, his eyebrows raised.

"Woah, you have no idea how excited I am." I roll my eyes.

I put my headphones around the back of my neck and walk down the stairs behind him with his suitcase. After arriving downstairs, I took over my suitcase and dragged it myself to the kitchen.

Gracy - my nanny's granddaughter - Aunt May, sat at the dining table with a slice of passion fruit jam bread that was only one layer. The little girl's body was thin and dry with big black eyes that always looked at me with hope. Her curly light brown hair was always messy.

I grabbed the wheat bread and spread chocolate jam then put it on Gracy's plate. She smiled then finished the bread I gave her. I made another slice then crammed it into my mouth while dragging the suitcase back towards the door. Dad was already in the car. He lowered the window a little.

"Hurry up, Nad! You'll miss your flight later," he said, trying to be angry, but still gentle. Dad really can't get angry. At most he gets angry when my biology grades are ruined - and that's very rare.

"Oh my gosh, Dad, there's still time. I swear!" I walked casually, still chewing my wheat bread and got into the car.

"Are you sure you still want to go?" His brow furrowed in worry – as worried as I was about the possible awkwardness of living with Mom and Phil – her new husband – for the summer.

I took a deep breath. "Yes, Dad."

My emotions were really mixed. Honestly, two weeks with a new family felt like two years.

"You're almost seventeen. You should know what to do."

"Well, Dad, think of it as if most of my traits are inherited from you, so you don't have to worry about that," I lied of course. How could I possibly be more like him when what I had just said was a lie.

Dad smiled a little, making a thin mustache on his upper lip and a faint crease in his eyelids. "If I said I was grateful that you were like me, that would mean I didn't accept you for who you are."

"There you go again, Dad. Please stop being so dramatic."

He laughed. "Your mother is better at that."

Dad stepped on the gas and our Mercedes sped off. I play my favorite song – Cartoon ft. Jüri Pootsmann's I Remember U on the new stereo Dad installed in his car a week ago.

It's 23 degrees in Beverly, Chicago today. The perfect mid-summer weather has people packing up and leaving early. The sky is clear blue with no clouds and a gentle breeze rustles the branches of the black cherry trees along the road to the airport.

Of course, it's a shame to stay home in such beautiful weather. Especially since school is out. People would rather visit Navey Pier, Lincoln Park Zoo or travel to another state to sunbathe in a warmer place like I did. There are only a few people in my neighborhood who don't go.