DIE ➳ JACK JOHNSON

XXII. I WON'T SCAR

chapter twenty two - july 22

"And of course I don't have anything to wear," Alaska groaned, rummaging through her small closet. She sat down on the floor of her bedroom, trying to think of an excuse to tell Jack why she couldn't go, because she couldn't possibly go just in her normal clothes.

She knew others girls would be glaring at her, and she hated to admit it, but she was feeling insecure about it all. The last time Jack took her to a party, he ended kissing another girl there, a prettier one. Jack was hers, and she wanted him to be hers for as long as she could keep her. She didn't want to let go of her too soon. 

As if someone was answering her prayers, something caught her eyes, and she slowly made her way to it. There was something at the very back of her closet that was standing out to her. She got to it, and held onto the red fabric. She slowly pulled it out, and gasped.

"Mom," she whispered, still holding  the dress. It didn't take her long to recognize it as her mom's favorite dress back in the day. It was a dress so simple with two think straps and a straight neckline, but her mother always looked beautiful in it. Her dad especially liked it, because like Alaska, her mom had pale skin and red was always a great color on her. 

She walked towards her mirror, and placed the dress in front of her. Her lips twitched up in a slight grin. With her eyes, skin color, and the way her body stood, she looked exactly like her mother. However, minus the hair color of course. She used one hand to keep holding the dress up, and used her now free hand to gather up all her hair, and make it into a make-shift bun. Now, she looked as classy as her mother always looked.

She felt confident in this dress, because in some way, she felt her mom with her. She felt her mom picking out the dress with her, and encouraging her to just go to the party with Jack, and say, "To heck with it!"

She put the dress on, and did her hair into a bun. She wrapped a thin flower-like headband around it to add a little sense of herself into the look. She smiled one last time at the mirror, before making the way out the door.

"For you, mom," she whispered.

She stopped in front of the stair when she saw her dad lounged on the couch. Her breath hitched up, and she debated whether or not she should continue on going.

She repeated the same sentence in her head, and proceeded on, "For mom."

She didn't know what type of behavior to expect out of her dad, but she was terrified nonetheless. She walked down the steps slowly with her eyes only half open, because she didn't want to see her dad. It was like not being able to see him may actually mean he's not really there, and it's all in her head.

She made it to the bottom of the stairs, and slightly turned her head to still see her father there. He then slowly turned his head to face her, and she swallowed a huge lump in her throat.

"Well, I'm just going to go now," she choked out, and made a bee-line to the door.

"Wait," she heard her father call out to her, and she shrunk down in fear. She could feel herself shaking as her father neared her. He got right in front of her, and stared at her deeply. She couldn't make out the emotion he had in his eyes. Her breathing stopped when his hand reached up to touch her face briefly. "You look just like your mother. So beautiful," he whispered, catching her completely off guard.

"What?" she whispered.

"Your mom would've have been so proud of the girl you grew up to be," he told her sincerely, and she had to take a step back to look at him clearly. 

"You mean that, dad?" she asked with tears in her face.

"Of course," he said with a smile. 

"Thank you," she breathed, feeling the utmost ecstatic feeling in the world. This was always what she hoped for; approval from her dad, for her dad to be proud of her, and look at her with happiness instead of disgust.