Kismet

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I was walking towards my house, with my head down. I really didn't want to leave Josh's house. Then the memory struck me; In his bedroom, he was staring at my lips! Was he going to kiss me!? I blushed.  Shit. I covered my face with my hands in embarrassment. 

RING. RING.

"Good morning May!" Mr. Ryde rang his bike's bell. I can recognize his voice anywhere. Mr. Ryde has been doing our town's newspaper ever since I was two years old. When I was ten, I remember when he took me on his bike and let me throw the newspaper. On my first try, I made it to the door. He told me I was a natural. I think he was just being nice. I turned around and waved at him. He was on his bike, throwing newspapers at the front neighbor's lawns. He puts one hand up to wave. Then I put both of my hand up to wave, and so does he. Then in a matter of seconds, he loses control of his bicycle handles. He quickly grabs it and made the bike go straight.

"You're going to fall, Mr. Ryde," I joked.

"I haven't fallen in 20 years, What makes you think I am going to start now?" He laughed.

Mr. Ryde rode his back up to me and handed me our newspaper.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," he replied, "Tell your father I said hi, and he should pass by the house. Miriam made some strawberry danishes. I know he loves those."

"Yeah, he does. I'll tell him," I said. I waved goodbye. I walked towards the as I was reaching towards the front doors knob, the door swung open.

"YOU'RE PAST THE TIME YOU PROMISED TO BE HOME!" My Dad yelled. When I looked up he was already in his sheriff uniform. His face was red as a tomato. He looked freshly shaved.

"Only by a few minutes," I replied.

"I told you yesterday that today I had the supervisor is coming in to check the station. How do you think I would look if I get there late?" My Dad asked.

"Just tell him you had to drop off your dying daughter to your ex-wife's house. He'll understand," I walked into the house and took off my coat and hanged it up.

"MAY!" he exclaimed. "Go to your room and hurry up and change!"

"That's where I am headed," I said walking up the stairs to my room.

"GOOD!"

"FINE!" I said from my room and slammed the door. My dad is wasting my time arguing with me. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... I counted in my head. I breathed in and out, calming my nerves. I'm wasting time getting mad at him. I go through my closet to see what I should wear to my Mom's place. I look for something really girly. I had no pants or sweats. I took them all to the secondary store. Why? Well because when I was getting started with chemo I had to cut my hair real short. Like boy short. It was going to fall off anyway but the doctor said it would make the transition of having no hairless painful. Which really didn't help at all. It made me feel even worse. While I was walking out in the street with my jeans and a T-shirt. Everyone would mistake me for a boy. Once in the summer some girls from the city, said I was hot shortie and had a cute butt. I turned around to say hi and when they heard my voice. They all turned red of embarrassment. I hate being mistaken for a boy. So I threw all my pants away and started to wear dresses and skirts.

I picked my light pink cashmere dress, with my gray cardigan, black tights, and gray converse. I changed into them and laid my red dress on my bed. I looked at the dress. I need to call Lola, but I don't want to. I started to remember a little bit about what happened last night. She left me for that jerk, Dillon. Even if he was hanging out with my ex-boyfriend Damien. I don't know why she would do that. I shake the thought out of my head. I look into my mirror. My body seemed skinnier and weaker than before. At least weight isn't one of my problems. My hair grew a little, it's now officially two inches long. My blue eyes seem larger now that I have no amount of fat on my cheeks. I remember Aunt Clara, she would call it my baby fat cheeks. My bedroom door swung open. I was startled, I turned around, it was my brother Max. He's only 8 years old and very short for his age like me. Max is the miniature and younger version of Dad. Both had brown hair and green eyes, freckles over the nose. I was the younger version of my Mother. The blonde hair and blue eyes. Max walked in and sat on my bed.