Wild Child

Ch. 3: Leaving Home

"Are you all packed?"

My mom lingered in the doorway to my almost-empty room, looking around sadly. She'd been even more distant and vacant since I'd shown her my acceptance letter, but she'd never cried. She'd never yelled at me or guilt-tripped me for being the second daughter to leave her behind. At least in my case, she seemed to understand. We all wanted to get away from The House That Callie Left. Tomorrow, a few hours after I was set to leave, my parents were going to the lake house for the rest of the summer, until the weekend after Labor Day. I was patiently awaiting the day that they would tell me they were selling the house. I wouldn't blame them.

I nodded from my perch on the bed, zipping up my duffel bag. "All set." I'd packed ten or so day's worth of clothes into it (jeans, tops, and underwear, mostly), along with my makeup case and toothbrush. I wasn't very girly, and I usually just let my hair air dry into it's natural waves, so that was all I figured I'd need. That, and my cell phone; the memory was full to the brim with downloaded books- printed and audio- music, and a few movies. I'd slid a brand new 32GB SD card into it this morning, figuring I'd be taking a ton of pictures and videos along the way.

When I'd told my mom I planned to drive to school, not fly, she was pretty against it. It would take me around a week, and I'd be an eighteen year old girl out on the road by herself. A disabled girl on her own, she'd reminded me- like I didn't have freaking callouses around my wrist from the strap on my cane. Like I could ever forget. She'd basically told me no. I'd basically told her too bad. I was eighteen, taking the 1995 Jeep I'd worked two summers to buy, stuffed full of clothes I'd been buying on my own since I started babysitting at 14, taking along a cell phone I'd insisted on paying for myself (mostly so they couldn't take it when I was grounded) and headed to a college I'd gotten into on a scholarship based on my own hard work. There really wasn't anything she or my dad could do to stop me. I'd let her rant and rave, then told her I'd be very careful, check in every few hours, and stay only in well-reputed hotels. She'd still fretted and paced, muttering about serial killers and rapists, until finally my dad had stepped in and solved it all by booking me rooms every night in nice hotels in different cities along the way. Hotels with nightmen and chauffeurs and valets.

I'd rolled my eyes and told him that was too much, but he'd given me The Dad Glare and I'd shut up and thanked him.

Now it was my last night at home, and mom was looking at me ruefully. "You're a little bit like her, you know."

I was surprised, but I didn't have to ask who "her" was. I knew she meant Callie. "A little, " I agreed, always the peacemaker.

She sighed, glancing out my window at the driveway the way she often did. Looking for Callie to come home. She looked back at me with that forced smile. "Come down in a few. Dad's barbecuing already."

"'Kay." I smiled at her as she left the room, before bringing my slack cane back up underneath me and pushing to my feet.

I looked around my room, bare except for the dresser and bed. My closet was empty, my walls were stripped, and my shelves were bare. All the boxes were already packed into my car, and my duffel bag was ready to be loaded into the front seat in the morning. I was ready to go.

I sighed deeply, looking at the single pile on the dresser- an outfit for tomorrow, my phone charger and wallet. Purses were too annoying to use with my cane- my uneven gait always sent them slipping off my shoulder. I'd tried a cross-body bag, but it either bumped into my cane on one side or made me feel off-balance on the other. I felt much better with just my phone and wallet in my back pockets, maybe a hair tie on my wrist. That was all I needed.

I headed downstairs, hoping like hell my new dorm was on the ground level, or had an elevator. I always had to go down steps one at a time like a toddler, and I hated it.

My dad smiled at me as I came out the patio door, kissing the top of my head. "Ready for tomorrow, kid?"

I nodded as he squeezed me to his chest, swallowing the lump in my throat. I'd always been Daddy's girl, and it had hurt to feel the chasm between us when Callie had left. I would miss him most.

He released me and smiled bravely, his own eyes wet. "Your mom's cooking up a feast, and that cake you like. Hungry?"

I nodded, and for the last few hours, we kept pretending everything was okay.