Ataxia

thirty

Everything was so messed up. I was staring out the backseat window of Andy's car, observing all of the buildings we passed by. Since the facility was basically destroyed, no kid was allowed to stay there unless they had nowhere to go. So Andy picked me up to take me back home.

I looked at the seat next to me where August's little princess coloring book with a little open pack of crayons on top of it. Tears filled my eyes away and I quickly tried to wipe them away.

It was hard to tell Andy what happened. In fact, I didn't even tell him. I just stuttered, mumbling nonsense that even I could barely hear. Mr. Kabadi told my guardian what happened and all the factors. It was hard to see my only parent go through the worst trial of his life.

What was he thinking right now? Did he think he failed at being a guardian, like I did? In that office where the news was delivered, Andy didn't even cry. He just turned around, took my hand, and left. I think he was still processing it. He does that sometimes. We grabbed my stuff and August's, climbed into the car, and started to drive home. He turned on the radio to listen to anything except the silence.

We didn't listen to the news because Andy claimed it was "very depressing" and "there's no point to listening to stuff that's gonna make you sad" so I don't usually know what's going on outside my own school and house. So he listened to a lot of throwback music like the Beatles or Chevelle or something like that. A lot of rock music.

But I barely heard it. I was too sucked into my thoughts to pay attention to the loud and crazy electric guitar and drums of the chorus of the song, Shameful Metaphors, which was my favorite Chevelle song.

"So why then has all my life made no sound? And are your eyes closing even now ... my life made no sound! I fear your eyes closing ..." The lead singer, Pete Loeffler, sang from the radio.

He was quite right. I fear August's eyes would be closing soon.

Andy didn't even speak to me as we piled out of the car and brought our things inside. I left August's suitcase in the trunk and I don't think he cared. I tramped up the stairs and into my bare room, flopping onto my messy bed. Andy did the same and closed his bedroom door.

So, having nothing to do, I unpacked my things and slipped on my pajamas and fell asleep on my bed at about four in the morning. I was so tired from the attack on the facility. I just wanted this stupid day to end.

***

"Des?" Andy knocked on my closed door.

I sat up, groggy from sleeping. I glanced at my alarm clock, reading the time at about half an hour past six. Jeez, I really was tired.

"Yeah?" I answered, getting out of bed to open the door.

"It's time for dinner. And we have a guest. So put on some real clothes, okay?" I heard his footsteps leave my door.

I sat down on my bed again, pondering. A guest? At this time? And who would it be? Was it someone from the facility? Was it someone from school? The neighborhood? I honestly had no idea. From what Andy told me, he said that he sent August and I to boarding school in New York. Which, clearly, we didn't.

I pulled on my jeans and slipped on a baggy T-shirt. I stepped out of my room, debating on whether I should brush my hair or not. It wouldn't really make a difference so I skipped down the steps to the living room.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Mr. Watson, August's supposed dad, was sitting in my freaking living room.

"Um, hi," I said, waving a little and sat down on the couch by the recliner he was sitting in. "What're you doing here, Mr. Watson?"

"Des, don't be rude," Andy said through his clenched teeth. He sat down in the recliner next to our so-called "guest." "So you two have already met? How?"

I narrowed my eyes on him, making sure he felt intimidated, though I highly doubted he felt nervous around a fourteen-year-old girl who was about half a foot shorter than him. "Oh, we've met." I crossed my arms. "He's August's dad."

Andy choked on the tea from the mug he was sipping from and spilled a little on his shirt. He glanced at him, then at me. "What?" Was all he said, reaching for tissues to dry off his clothes and cup.

I would've laughed but I didn't. "Yeah. He came stomping onto the facility grounds, claiming he was Aug's genetic dad."

"I feel sort of uncomfortable when you talk about me like I'm not here," he said, shifting his gaze between us. "Would you like me to get a towel or something?" He asked Andy.

"No," he said, throwing the tissues away in the trash can next to his chair. "Listen, I honestly don't know who you are. But my youngest daughter's parents died in a house fire. She was the only one that survived. So don't tell lies." My guardian, like the awesome guy he was, stood up from his seat, pointing to the door. "Whoever you are, get out of my house."

I was totally voting for this guy to get out of my living room and to be kicked to the curb. "Andy," I said, "you should know that even August said that this random guy right here is her dad. Mr. Kabadi even believed him. So did Aug."

He sat back down, pondering. "So ... Mr. Stanley Watson, are you really August's father?"

He nodded. "My daughter's real name is Virgo Watson. I thought she died in the house fire, along with my wife, Olivia. I woke up in the hospital and I was told that Virgo and Olivia were dead." He stared at his dark jeans and he looked like he was about to cry. But he didn't. "I eventually went back to my normal life before I found out that she was adopted. I've been trying to find her ever since. And after I finally did, she was taken away from me. Again."

We were silent after that. Both Andy and I stared at him and my hatred for him lessened. All he was trying to do was find his kid again. That's all. He wasn't trying to take my only sibling away from me. He wasn't evil or anything. He just wanted to be with August as much as I do.

"I'm really sorry," I said sympathetically. "That you lost August -- erm -- Virgo and that I was acting like a jerk towards you. I just didn't want my little sister to leave."

"And I deeply apologize for telling you to get out of my house," Andy said, flushing a little. "I'm a terrible host."

Mr. Watson and I laughed.

"You're not a terrible host, just protective," he said. "Anyway, I came here to tell you something. To tell you both."

I leaned in. "What is it?"

"I believe I know where Virgo is."