Fly

This short story is dedicated to SammyD123, who has been my mentor when it comes to writing, and has taught me everything I know. I was hopeless when she took me on, and this is the first short story I ever wrote that I'm proud of (I wrote this before Aliens in the Desert). I owe all of my success to her, and when we are both young published authors we will be on the Bonnie Hunt show together. I love you Sammy, your the best Writer Buddy a girl could have!

Also a huge thank you to CameoLover93, who made my lovely cover and is going to be my cover maker for all of my stories I love her so much! If you need a cover, send her a message and you won't be disappointed!

All Rights Reserved and if you see this on another site please let me know, becuase that would mean someone stole it from me.

Please point out any mistakes, and I love feedback good or bad, and if you have any criticism I can take it! Vote if you like it and fanning would make my life! Enjoy!

I stood in front of the old, brown door, with a crooked bronze number 93 on it. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control my fear.

                It’s going to be okay, Casey. Today is going to be fine, I soothed myself, even though in the back of my mind I knew it was false. I took once last breath, put my hand on the cold metal handle and opened it.

 I walked in and was greeted by the usual foul stench: beer, body odor, old pizza boxes and rotting food from the kitchen. The TV was roaring in the background, my dad muttering about how these players sucked. I put my coat on the hanger, kicked off my shoes and walked through the narrow hallway that led to the stairs, passing the living room and bathroom on the left and the kitchen on the right. As I passed the living room, I peeked in on my father, quietly, not wanting him to know I was home. His Lay-Z Boy was his own little island, and surrounding him were piles of garbage.

                “If those little wussies don’t pull themselves together I’m going to fly over there and coach them myself!” His words were slurred, and instantly I knew he was drinking again, even though he promised to stop. It was just another broken promise, like the promise he made to start looking for a job. Instead, I was the one supporting us on my part time job while I went to high school. He almost pressured me into quitting school completely. That was one of our worst fights yet.

 He looked around him for something, muttering to himself as he always does. My eyes got wide and I pulled back, but it was too late. He had seen me.

“Hey Case,” he called. “Can you grab me another beer?”

I stepped into the open and crossed my arms. “How many have you had?”

He shook his head and began to get up. “I’ll get it myself, then. All I’m going to miss is the Mets losing anyways.”

I blocked the way to the kitchen. “How many have you had?” I repeated, standing up to him. He trudged closer to me and I got a good look at him. His hair was oily, and hid under a baseball hat. He had too long of stubble and was in bad need of a shave. His brown eyes were menacing, his face seemed more bruised and scarred than it actually was. His clothes were covered in stains, and you could see his beer belly sticking out. He stared at me, waiting for me to move. I didn’t budge, and glared back at him even though he was a head and a half taller than me.

He scratched his head and shrugged. “One, maybe two.”

“One or two bottles?” I raised my eyebrows, not believing a word.

“One or two cases.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “What happened to your promise?” He wouldn’t look at me. Suddenly I felt all the anger, all the rage I’ve been bottling come out of me. “You said you would stop drinking! You also said you were going to find a job, but all you do is sit around the house and watch sports! You’re lazy, you’re smelly, you make your sixteen year old daughter take care of you and support you while she goes to school! You pressured me to drop out and told me that if I go to college you’ll disown me, which right now is starting to seem pretty appealing!  You need to grow up! You need to realize that you will never become a sports coach if you don’t get yourself back into the world, get a job, and start making money so you can move out of this dump! Ever since mom left you-“