The File

The File ~ Chap. 3

My friend and I seriously want to know which is better, this or Chasinf for Answers. Please tell us what you think!

Comment/vote/fan!

_____________

Tate

Oh, the funeral was horrible.

I couldn't stop crying, and I thought I would just break down and fall to the ground in front of everyone. But thank goodness Kevin had been there and got to me before that could have happened.

Well, at least it was over now, and I wouldn't have to look at my father's cold face or the casket ever again. What I really wanted was to see his warm and alive face, and have him tell me everything was okay, but I knew that was impossible. I tried to think about that as little as I could.

As I sat at the kitchen table for breakfast, I flipped through the newspaper to read about what the weather would be like, and then hoped the comics would be able to cheer me up a bit. I was almost to the weather section when I reached an article about my father.

Of course. And the picture that went with it was of my dad while he was still in the woods.

I couldn't help it; I buried my face in my arms on the table and began to weep for the trillionth time.

I heard my mom walk into the room, but I didn't care. A moment later I felt her hand on my back.

"What's the matter, honey?" she asked in a gentle voice.

I placed one of my hands on the newspaper. I knew she looked at it because then I felt her hand rub my back a few times.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry," she murmured. "It's okay. Everything's okay."

She wasn't the one I had wanted to hear it from, and having her saying it didn't help at all. I lifted my head, tears still pouring out of my eyes. "How can you say that?" I asked. "Dad is dead. Dead. That picture isn't dad posing for a camera trying to be funny. That is him dead. Deceased. No more. No longer on this Earth."

I could tell that my words had hit my mother pretty hard, but I didn't care. Dad was dead, and it was all my fault.

My mom looked at the ground. "I know," she replied so softly I barely heard her. "But we're okay. We're fine."

I looked back at the newspaper, despising the person who had written the article. "That doesn't make any difference." Anger mixed with guilt took over me. I shoved the paper off of the table and watched it as it slowly floated down. "Nothing will ever make a difference."

I stood up roughly, knocking down my chair in the process. Then I grabbed my bookbag and was about to walk out of the house.

But my mom stopped me by asking, "Where are you going?"

I turned to her. "School."

"Oh," she said, rising to her feet. "I forgot to tell you. The school's allowing you a period to rest."

What? I wasn't going to school? "For how long?"

"About a week. You go back Friday."

Well that was stupid. I went back a day before the weekend. And why was I allowed leave when I had just been to school last week? Maybe it was because the news hadn't sunk in until I saw my dad's body in person.

Whatever the case, I would still need to make up all of the work. How was I supposed to get it? I didn't really have any friends at school, no one else would really be willing to do it for me, and the board wasn't about to take any time out of their schedule to send it to me. I voiced my concerns to my mom.

"I'll get your work every day after school," she explained.

I thought about that and then shrugged. I slid my bag off of my shoulder and onto the floor. Then I went to my room to "rest."

Personally, I wished I had gone to school anyway. It would help distract me. But my mom would protest, and I wasn't in the mood to face her again after what I had said. I stayed in my room.

But before I sat on my bed, I pulled back the curtains on my window and looked out onto the front lawn, to see if the population had decreased. I found that the press was still there, trying to find a way to look inside. They had all been there since the news of my dad's death was released. When I had tried to go to school, they followed me to my car, and actually followed my car. It had been increasingly annoying to dodge them. Thankfully they weren't allowed into the school, and were held back by the security guards. I was safe there.

One reporter glanced up and noticed me in the window. Before I had the chance to back away, the person lifted their camera and got a quick shot of me. I let the curtain fall back, disgusted.

It seemed stupid for them to get a picture of me in the window. What type of article could they write about something like that? 'Navy Man's Daughter Looks Down On Lowlifes'? I had to admit that that was how I felt about all reporters, but that wouldn't do me any good in this town.

I closed the curtain and plopped down on my bed, now completely grateful for my resting time.