Cherokee Roses {Daryl Dixon's Daughter}

t h i r t e e n

The next morning the group is sitting around camp as my dad interrogates Randal. By the sounds of it, he's doing a good job too. I mean I understand why Randal's screams are so loud. My dad is an intimidating person. Maybe I should be glad the world ended before I grew old enough to have a boyfriend.

I look over at Carl and notice he's staring at me. Not creepily though, almost in a daydream state.

While the others around camp ask about a plan for Randal I stay quite sharpening a stick. Man, entertainment these days is wild. Dad comes out of the shed his knuckles are bloody and he doesn't look very happy. Well who would?

"Boy there has gotta gang. 30 men." He announces looking around the group. "They got heavy artillery and they ain't looking to make friends. If they roll through here, our boys are dead, and our woman, they're gonna wish they were." He says the last part looking directly at me and I look down shifting uncomfortably.

"What did you do?" Carol asks quietly.

"Had a little chat." Dad says reaching out a hand towards me and helping me up. We walk away, my hand never leaving his loose one. His touch comforts me and it's almost like old times.

"Stay away from the shed okay?" He says gruffly.

"Okay." I say nodding my head.

"I mean it, I don't even want you looking in its direction." He says looking down at me.

"Yes sir." I mumble looking at my feet. He sighs before squatting down to my level.

"What's wrong?" He asks brushing some of my baby hairs away from my face.

"Nothing." I say playing with the ends of my braids.

"Cherokee I'm going to ask one more time, and you better speak up." He says. I roll my eyes and he notices. "Lose the attitude okay? Now what's wrong."

"I don't want to talk about it." I say. "Not with you anyways." I see I hurt him. He's used to me being his little girl and talking about everything with him. "I'm sorry daddy."

"It's fine." He says obviously hurt. "I get it, you don't wanna talk to your ole man anymore."

With that he stalks off and I sigh. Great, now I've made him upset. I don't like that I did, but I didn't mean too. That has to count for something, right? I shake my head and go to find Beth, maybe she can help with my situation. I find her in her bedroom flipping through some old magazine. I knock on the doorframe signaling my presence.

"Hey." She says patting the spot on the bed next to her.

"Hi." I say sitting down and crossing my legs.

"You're being uncharacteristically quite today." So she noticed. "What's up?"

"What was it like when you got your first crush?" I ask sheepishly. She grins and closes her magazine, tossing it to the side.

"I knew it!" She says happily and I blush hard.

"I'm not sure. That's why I'm asking you Beth." I say playing with the end of my braids.

"Okay, how often do you think about him?" She asks.

"I don't know." I say with a shrug. "Often I guess. But that doesn't mean anything does it? I mean, there's not much else to do around here."

"You totally like him." She says. I sigh and flop my head back into her pillow.

"But I shouldn't!" I say throwing my hands in the air dramatically. It's true, the world has been taken over by the dead and I'm worrying about my crush on some silly boy in a stupid hat? When did I become such a teenage girl?