A Broken Smile

Prologue

It's true. There is truly nothing more enlightening than throwing unfolded clothes into a dusty old suitcase.

Packing.

I muttered some obscene profanities to myself as I fished through the pile of clothes on my desk, searching for extra pairs of clean socks.

"Tessa, Are you read-", he stepped into the doorway, leaning against the doorframe as his eyes scanned over my disastrous post-tornado-stricken looking sort of room.

"Oh."

"No. I'll be down in a few minutes.", I uttered, still digging through my piles of unwashed clothes.

"Okay", I heard him whisper as he left the room, taking faint steps down the stairs.

"Thanks again for ruining my life and shipping me off to bording school.", I wanted to scream, sharply cutting through the palpalble tension. But I didn't.

It wasn't always like that.

~~

"Breathe, Tessa. Every time you make contact, I want you to say the 'hit.'"

I heaved out air angrily, panting as I put my hands on my legs, slouched over.

"Just let me catch my breath.", I held out my hand.

"That's not an option. Stop being lazy!", Coach barked, throwing a few balls at me.

Dodging them, I angrily got back into position, and swung, aiming blatantly for his face.

He laughed a little. "Atta' girl. You'll be perfectly whipped into shape, come time for regionals.", as he fed more balls to my backhand side.

Turn, bend, down, up, swing, breathe.

It was easy, really.

The hard part was remembering to stay focused and not screwing it all up.

One of my shots missed, hitting the white trim on the net.

"Breathe, Tessa.", his warning boomed, echoing through the courts.

That's when my Dad came running in, breathing a little irregularly. And that's when I knew my life was over.

~~

"I just don't understand why you have to do this now-", I tugged at the hems on my shorts, squirming uncomfortably in my chair overlooking the tennis courts below me.

"She needs this.", he swallowed.

"Everything's about her. It's always been about her." I spat.

"We moved a couple times...", he tried to reason.

"It was seven times, Dad. That's not a couple.", I choked down tears.

"Her mother is dying, Tessa. I need to go back to England with her.", He rubbed my back

I flinched, shrugging back from his touch that no longer held enough fatherly warmth.

"Why can't anyone else help her?", I asked for the thousandth time.

"They can't afford it and I am the best help they can get, right now."

I didn't answer.

"She's dying, Tessa. I need to be with Molly right now.", He patted my pack.

"Like Mom did? Oh, wait...You seem to be way over that now."

My dad visibly tensed, his jaw tightening a little.