troubled | e.d.

one

tessa

"tess, liven up."

i jolt up from my position of staring out the window, chin resting in the palm of my hand at the sound of my father's voice.

the tall, dark haired man holds a battered file box under one arm, and raises his eyebrows at me.

"what did i say about daydreaming?"

"i know," i groan. "i'm sorry. if it helps, i wasn't daydreaming. i was looking at the birds."

he sighs a little and pushes the box across my small desk in the corner of his office.

"if you want the college credits, you better start taking this job seriously."

"it's not even a job," i snort. "i don't get paid."

"do you want it or not?"

i chew on my bottom lip and fumble with the bracelets on my wrist. of course i want this summer "job." my dad owns a law firm, and i want to be just like him; a criminal justice attorney.

"yes," i say, barely above a whisper.

"good. can you please run these files to mary-anne? don't peek, but if you do, they're nonconfidential closed cases, so i think you'll be fine," he winks before swinging back out the door to probably go yell at another person for doing absolutely nothing.

i reach for the box, dragging it across the desk and wiping the dust off the top. the side claims that all the cases are stolen cars alphabetized by the defendant's name.

but that's boring. what i really want to read is the files about murders or kidnappings, or even just a simple robbery.

crazy, i know. criminal minds mixed with my father influenced me too much as a child, and now i tune into dateline and 48 hours every week.

the box is slightly heavy, but i still carry it all the way down the hall and past the coffee bar to my father's assistant, mary-anne. she always gave me candy as a child, but now she gives me life advice.

"tessa!" she exclaims when she sees me through the top of her glasses. i smile and she pushes out her chair and stands up to take the file box from my hands.

"my dad said to give these to you?" i say as more of a question.

"ah, yes," she laughs, setting the dusty box on her desk. "richard has had these files for two decades, honey. he never gets rid of them. how in the world did your mom survive his hoarding tendencies for all those years?"

i roll my eyes with a smile. my mom lives up in tennessee and has for six years since the divorce. i decided to stay down in georgia with my dad, since i had school and he wasn't going anywhere because of work. i see her every couple of months, but that's about it. her and my dad aren't on the best terms, but they still manage out a hug every time they meet up just for me.

she has a new family now. a husband named jason and his two kids that i rarely see. their names are willow and sylvie.

probably the most southern names i've ever heard.
i don't like it either, trust me.