Almost Is Never Enough

2. - new beginnings

Chapter Two.

-Ten years later-

***

   I finally wake up to the sound of my alarm clock beeping. I dismiss the demand for me to get up by doing my favorite thing in the entire world: hitting the snooze button. I just need five more minutes; I stayed up for most of the morning studying and making sure all my homework is completed and correct. I like to be ahead of the game, because that is just who I am. I don't like waiting till the last minute to do something. And I aim for accuracy. My eyelids feel like they weigh a ton, and they end up drooping back down until my eyes are closed and I attempt to sleep peacefully for about three minutes, and then the next thing I know, I hear my father calling. Great. I try to sleep in for a while an this is the respect I get? He knows how hard I work to obtain a decent grade (90+, don't mean to brag). At least he could give me some respect back. Parents... I don't even wanna get started.

   "Alana, get up. It's time for school." Dad yells from downstairs. I groan and lazily get out of the bed so I can get done with my morning routine. A boring one, I must add. I go ahead and do the first thing I do once I wake up in the morning: head straight to my wardrobe. I open it up and pick out what I want to wear for the day. I settle for skinny jeans and a red sheer cutout high-low shirt that compliments my skin tone and and goes well with my manicured nails, too. I finish off the outfit with my red TOMS peep toe wedges. I take out my undergarments and go to my bathroom to take a quick shower. I then wrap my hair up with a towel and dry off before I lotion my skin with my blueberry body lotion. I grab my blow dryer and blow dry hair before I straighten it. I then take out my curler and curl the ends of it, so it looks cute. I smile, proud at the fact that I have good taste when it comes to fashion.

   I clean up and walk out to the bathroom to gather my homework, binder and other things and put them all in my bookbag. As I walk out of the room and turn the light off, I grab my house/car keys and phone. I zoom downstairs to hear my father joking around. "There is no way I am letting my daughter wear that to school." His smile is evident, followed by a cute chuckle and it makes me laugh as I head over to the kitchen where Dad is. "I'm sixteen, Dad." I walk over to hug him, but something doesn't feel right about me and him whenever I look into his eyes. Whatever happened ten years ago, I know it is traced back to him. He is responsible for my mother's death. And I don't have it in myself to forgive him for doing whatever he did that lead to one of his collegues killing my mother. It doesn't mean I don't love him, though.

   "Hey, I'm going to school now."

   "So soon, why? I mean you haven't eaten breakfast, it's only 7:30."

   'You can't be talking because you told me to get up.' I thought to myself. I can't believe he's even doing this with me. I notice he is still waiting for an answer.

   "I'm stopping by the school library to check out that book I'm supposed to have for English class." I half lie. I'm also meeting my best friend Daly at Starbucks before going to school. But why does he need to know that part?

   Okay, I know my bond with my dad isn't all 'Daddy's Girl' and everything like that, ever since the night I found out about the truth when my dad was talking to one of his friends about the murder (he's not good at keeping secrets). I mean, yeah, I'm still pissed about it. But I'm not going to start hating him over it. It hard despising someone who you have to live with, and is putting a roof over your head, and is supplying you with food and stuff for school, and with emotional and finacial support.

   "Seriously honey," I rolled my eyes thinking, 'Don't call me that....' as he continues, "are you alright?"

   "Yes, I am. Bye Dad." I kiss his cheek and soon I am heading to my car as quickly as possible. It is always awkward dealing with him.

   I climb into my car and insert the key in to start it up. I change the radio station that is playing currently to POWER 96.1 as I back up out of the driveway and go to Starbucks. I am silent for the first few minutes, reflecting on what I can do for tonight after school. I'm thinking about studying and then going to the movies with Daly. I wonder if she'll be able to go. After contemplating my evening plans, I pull into the parking lot. I get out of the car and walk through the lot to spot the door and once I do, I find myself wrestling against the wind to get to the sidewalk. I should have brought with me a jacket. 'God, if I knew it was gonna be this chilly...'

   I open the door and instantly the warm air hits my skin. I am relieved to see Daly at the back of the restraunt with two cups. I make my way over to her. "Hi." I wave to get her attention. She notices me and grins.

   "Hey, Alana. Chilly morning, ain't it?" She chuckles a bit and her cute dimples show. I wish I had dimples like her.

   "Yep, should have brought a jacket with me." I sit down with her and grab the cup of coffee.

   "So how is school going?" She asks and I instantly frown. "You sound like my father when you say that." I pout and she grows a smirk. "Sorry." She apologizes sarcastically.

   "So, I was thinking, you wanna go to the movies and see 'Dawn of the Planet of the Apes' tonight?" I suggest.

   "Nah, I wanna go, but what about a different movie? How about 'Earth to Echo?'" She asks. I take time to ponder on it. Now that I think about it, I think I could be in the mood for sci-fi. I agree with her and she shake on it. I take a sip of the hot coffee. It burns my tongue unfortunately, but I try my best to look okay without making a noise and ignore it. We continue to talk about our plans for the week.

   "I've got an upcoming test, and I have to study for that before we go." I groan, take another sip of coffee, and brace myself for what Daly had to say.

  "No, You're okay. You study way too much. Sometimes I think your style doesn't go with how you view school. I mean, really. You deserve a rest. We're going to the movies. Scratch studying off your list for today. You need to get your mind off of school sometimes. There's time for everything." She is proud of the mini-speech she gives me and I roll my eyes. I start to consider it; I do need a rest from school and everything. I mean, staying up practically all night and working my butt off to get a decent grade does go to my head sometimes. But to answer her question, that doesn't change who I am. I am still the same Alana Christina Evans I've always been when it comes to individuality. My grades started slipping back in 7th grade after having a conflict with another student, and I've been working as hard as I can to get them back up. I want them to stay up no matter how hard it is to deal with school. But I try to have fun while pursuing the world's most stressing time of life. So that is where fashion comes into play. Of course I've always loved dressing up and knowing all the coolest trends, but I lost interest in it during my middle school years. But now, I find it very self-esteem boosting and helpful in battling depression.

   "Okay, let's go." I motion for her to get up and we walk out to the car, and I forget how chilly it is. My encounter with the cold hits me again and I curse under my breath. I keep my eyes on my car and speed walk as fast as I can. I sense Daly speeding up and we get into the car.

   "Nice car," she compliments, "what's the model?"

   "2012 Focus..." I boast. I pridefully climb into the driver's seat and start the car, sighing as I looked at Daly. "Here we go." She grins nervously.

***

   We make it to school about 20 minutes early so I can get to the library and check out the book I need. We go through the huge entrance and sprint (although there is no need) to the media center. I open the door. The media center is dim and almost dark and very few, if any, people are here. I make my way over to the school librarian. She looks up and smiles as she realizes it is me coming here once again to check out a book.

   "Hello, I am here to check out a book, please, if you don't mind." I say politely.

   "Yes, Ms. Alana Evans, and which book would you like to check out?" She asks. She is attentive as I tell her.

  "Gifted Hands, the Ben Carson Story, please."