"Today, however can change things for better or worse. The outcome depends on you."
When a marriage fails, the residue trickles down to everyone in the family. Sixteen-year-old Daya Nicole Johnston must fight to understand what is happening in her l...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
********
I almost dozed back off to dreamland with Banks when I heard movement and voices outside my door. My phone light appeared to show me that it charged enough to come back on. The time said 9:17 in the morning. Still too early to be awake in my opinion, apparently not for my brother. "Denny," I shouted because I was still too tired to get out of bed and drained from my morning dreams.
He opened the door to my room, "What is it, Little Miss?"
"It's such a beautiful morning," I cooed.
"Who are you talking to?" I tried to sound casual but I couldn't hide the knowing smile from my face. "You sound really happy," I accused.
I could see a smile trying to creep onto his face. "It's a friend, why are you worrying about it?"
"It has to be more than that. I can hear you giggling from in here," I laughed.
He moved to close the door. "Daya, instead of bothering me go make some breakfast or something."
"Love you," I said through the crack before it sealed.
A part of me couldn't believe that out of all the things I could've dreamed of that was what arrived in my mind. I didn't know if I should mention it to Banks or not. How would he react?
I pulled myself out of my covers, and I sat on my daybed. From one bed right to another. The glass was frosty as I laid a hand on it. I looked at the tree beside the small sliver of a roof I had. I should have known it was a dream. I put on the same sweats from yesterday before I headed to the bathroom.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw that the bruises that were once on my neck had become almost nonexistent. As I went downstairs, my mom was sitting on the living room couch. I walked behind her and squeezed her shoulders.
"Good morning, Mom," I kissed her cheek.
"You seem perky today, Daya." She found joy in that statement.
I swayed my arms, "I woke up in a good mood."
She rotated around, "Well, I hope it stays for a while."