Eastwood Academy

Chapter 48: Collision

On Saturday morning at 11:00 AM, I make my way down to the quad, weaving around groups of students and parents chatting with each other.

My father told me to meet him outside of the cafeteria. I almost text him and ask if he needs directions, before I remember that he used to be a student here at Eastwood. The thought is so strange to me. My father is such a laid-back man, so different from most of the kids here and, frankly, from what I can see, many of the parents as well.

Like their children, most of the adults I'm seeing are wearing designer clothes. They sport expensive watches on their wrists, dangle designer handbags from their arms, and toss around keys to cars that probably cost more than our house mortgage for the entire year.

I spot my father as I near the cafeteria, standing just outside of the double doors that lead inside. "Dad!" I call excitedly, waving at him.

Seeing me, his face lights up in a smile, and he rushes over to me. "Brooklyn!" he exclaims, pulling me into a crushing bear hug, which I return with all my might. Pulling back, he studies me, and we just look at each other for a minute. There's an expression close to wonder on his face, and I know why.

The girl he dropped off at the airport was pale and nearly silent, so clearly closed off that it feels like I was a different person back then. The person standing before my father now has changed. I don't remember the last time I smiled like I do now in his presence. It must have been freshman year of high school before Mom got sick.

For a moment, I think I see a glint of tears in his eyes, but it's gone so quickly that I decide I must have imagined it. "How's my favorite daughter doing?" my father asks, pulling me in for another hug.

"I'm your only daughter and currently not able to breathe," I laugh, and my dad joins in before squeezing me even tighter and then releasing me.

"How have you been? I feel like we barely talk anymore. Tell me everything," my dad says, but instead of walking into the cafeteria like I assumed he would, he goes in the opposite direction towards the parking lot.

"I will," I assure him, "but didn't you want to eat?" I motion back toward the cafeteria. "Or did you want to walk around campus first, then get lunch?"

"Actually, we're going to eat out," he replies. "I emailed Doug Stanton to see if he wanted to get together, and he said yes. It was very last minute so I didn't get the chance to tell you. He just messaged me back this morning, saying that he's going out to lunch with another family, and he'd love it if we joined them."

"Oh," I say, feeling taken aback. "I wish I'd known. I'd have worn something nicer. Maybe I should go and change?" I gesture to my outfit, jeans, a sweater, and ankle boots.

"That's not necessary," my dad tells me. "You look great. You always do. Besides, we don't want to be late."

Feeling uneasy at the idea of having lunch with the head of the board of Eastwood in such casual clothing, I reluctantly follow my dad. I'm probably overreacting, I reason with myself as we walk to the car. This is a family friend that we're going out to lunch with. Besides, it's so last minute. I'm sure he won't care what I'm wearing. As for the other family we're dining with, do I really care what they think? No, I tell myself, I don't. I have my friends and have a wonderful boyfriend, and that's all that matters. It's evident that I'm happier than I've been in years, and I can see how elated and relieved that makes my father. Knowing how much heartache I've caused him makes me feel guilty, but I know he wouldn't want that, so I try to push the feeling aside.