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Chapter Two

This chapter... Kind of just explains a situation, life and everything with the character. Thank you for reading!!
Love,
WhisperLeaves.

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THAT SPRING I spent most of my days with Hank, secretly. In the garden, in my room, even in the study. Dad sometimes caught me running down the stairs. I'd put on a straight face immediately and walk calmly past him.
"What're you up to, Kiley?" He'd ask.
I'd look back only slightly, out the corner of my eye, "Nothing really."
"Would you like to help me build the tree-" he'd start to say, but I'd be running away to a corner with Hank by then.
The first time that happened I asked Hank how my dad couldn't see him.
"You're the exception, he whispered, leaning down to my ear, but careful not to touch me.
I never called Dad, Dad. Even though my mind registered him as Dad.

My small mind decided that Hank was very sneaky, playful and quiet in his own way. We'd play a board game sometimes in my room, or maybe even a game of chase in the garden, of course we couldn't really tag each other. Sometimes I wondered if Hank got annoyed with the six-year-old me. I must have been annoying, toying him around. He didn't really complain, but he didn't say much either. Just like Hank, quiet and friendly.

When it was time for me to leave, my mother came to fetch me and watched her and dad, who had my bag of clothing in his hand, talk from my bedroom window.
"I'm going back today Hank, " I said softly in a quiet voice. He didn't look at me. His eyes we fixed gazing out the window at the top of the many trees, and blossoms that surrounded the house. He was leaning on the wall, his hands in his pockets and his head turned. I quite liked him in that position.
My mother caught my eyes in the window and waved at me to come down. I waved back and gave her a smile. I hopped down from the sill and started to walk out the door. Just as I turned the corner into the passage way I heard Hank speak.
"You'll be back next year, right?" He said in his mellow voice, his gaze still out the window.
I poked my head into the room to look at him. I smiled, the type of little girl smile. My eyes widened with happiness and nodded my head repetitively. "Mm!" I said.
Hank turned his head to look me, his eyes fell on my face. He looked beautiful with the sunlight from outside beaming through the tinted glass behind him, and I stared in wonder.
"You look like an owl," he said, "now go. Your mother is waiting."
I shot him another big grin and ran towards the front door.

➰➰➰➰

WHEN I was nine a very new and interesting thing welcomed me when I arrived at Dads place.
A sister.
"Her names is Miley," Dad explained, smiling grandly at my mother and I. My mother was glaring at Dad. When a woman stepped out from the front door , she glared more. Her hand was rested on my shoulder and it squeezed me tighter as her glare deepened. The woman looked familiar, her red hair and everything.
Oh, I remembered, the picture on the wall.
Apparently, this woman was named Jodie. Apparently, she's been in a relationship with dad for over six years. Apparently, she married Dad somewhere in summer. Apparently, she has an eleven-year-old child daughter. Apparently, my mother doesn't like her. I don't like her. Despite her friendly smile and gleam in her eyes, I didn't like her the very bit, and I didn't like the way Miley was glaring at me. She was glaring at me, clutching at my biological fathers hand. Her blue eyes pierced my comfort zone, and her face was red with hatred.
"Tim," my mother said through gritted teeth, "I didn't know you dated."
"I'm Jodie," Jodie said, offering Mom a handshake. She had a awkward smile on her face, but she looked friendly, almost sincere.
Mom didn't shake her hand, she was too busy glaring at Dad.
"I think Kiley and I will be going back to the train station," mother said, and he started to pull me towards the rented car.
Hank.
I pulled away from my mothers grasp. Dad looked shocked. Jodie looked shocked. Mom looked shocked, very shocked.
"Kiley," she warned, her voice brimming with hostility and betrayal.
Oh mom, I thought sadly to myself. "I'll stay here," I said aloud, looking at her straight in the face. I snuck a glance at my bedroom window with the thought of Hank, I swear I could see a shadowing in the frames.
"Kiley," she pressed, trying to take hold of my hand.
"Mom," I said in my high pithed demanding voice, "I'm staying."
My mother glared at me, then her eyes softened. "Fine," she said at last, "I'll come back three weeks later."
She drove off, and for the first time I missed her as she drove off.
Dad must have thought that I loved him. Which isn't true and it's false at the same time.
I don't hate you, but I don't love you either. It takes more than friendly smiles.
Jodie must have thought I loved Dad too. Meanwhile, Miley was glaring me, harder than ever before. She must have thought I loved Dad too. I could tell already that she wasn't going to like me very much. I love Mom. I love Hank. I love my lollipop stick collection, but, for some reason, my mind just didn't love Dad. I like Dad.