Chapter Three: Weird Spanish

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Chapter Three: Weird Spanish

 

          I stayed in bed and felt my dad enter the room. He glided across the room as if he had worked on the "perfect walk" for years. I felt drained, even though I had gone to bed about 2 hours earlier than usual.

          Dad perched on the edge of my bed in such a way that he didn't roll me off. I wonder how he does that.

          "I know you're awake." he whispered to me. I opened my eyes crisply and took in the appearance of my father. His hair was bed-shoveled as usual and his clothes looked comfortable despite their formality.

          "How do you do that?" I asked in wonder. Dad was an expert on sleep.

          "I'm your father. You pick up on things when you have a teenage daughter." He said, chuckling as he kissed my forehead. "I'm leaving now. You know how to contact me, just push the purple button." he said, smiling. "I know you'll be okay, and I'll try not to worry. It's better that way."

          "Bye Daddy, I love you. Thank you for leaving a complete stranger here to protect me form the undeniably nonexistent threat to my person." I said, hugging him tight despite my sarcasm.

          "I love you too, dream bug." he said. He got up and walked to my art wall and chuckled.

          "Don't forget to show me." he said, and walked out of the room and out of my life for the next 2 weeks.

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          I rose out of bed and walked to my closet. I dragged out a pair of skinny jeans, snow boots, and a purple off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. I gracefully walked to my bedside table and grabbed my Device and pushed it down in my boot. The way my feet lightly touched the ground was kind of quiet and the way my weight rolled through looked graceful, but it couldn’t compare to the way Dad walked. 

          The Device was an iPod that had been modified to my Dad’s needs. In this case, it became a contacting utensil that would immediately contact my father’s corresponding Device.  All I had to do was unlock the iPod, press the glowing purple app, and type in my name. It alerted him of my distress. It's only been used once, when I was nine. I was having a panic attack. A little girl I had met in the park was scaring me. She kept talking about how she was worried about her mom and her future. Then she started talking about how worried she was about me. She started scaring my nine-year old mind with the things she said. The boy that Dad had sent to look after me couldn't calm me down.

          I think the boy pressed it when I started to throw up.

          I opened the door to my room and walked across the hallway to the bathroom. I looked myself in the mirror. I wasn't tall, but I wasn't too short. I liked to think that my 5'5" was the perfect height. My mahogany hair laid in big curls after I was done styling it. My dark eyes were emphasized with my pale skin. It was almost impossible to tell that they were blue. Finished with my hair, and once again turning down the option to put on makeup, I walked out of the bathroom. I walked down the curved hallway and stairs. As soon as I came into the kitchen I saw Vincent James Tuttle.  I barely reacted to his presence even though it was still new.  You've done this before.

          "Um, should I call you Vincent or Turtle? I'm a little confused." I asked.  I was on a mission, but small talk seemed necessary. He just chuckled and shook his head.

          "Turtle. Everybody but your dad calls me Turtle. He's a little more formal than everyone else..." he said, turning back towards what he was doing.

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