Second Chance

I'm not a germaphobe but I'm also not an idiot.

Pulling my hair into its usual high ponytail, I sighed, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I had never been one of those girls who hated what I saw staring back at me every morning.

I was pretty. Not in an overconfident cocky kind of way, but I knew that I attracted my fair share of guys. My long auburn hair glinted in the sunlight, and it was almost impossible to tell whether it was truly red or brown. My tan skin was acne free, probably because I refused to wear pounds of makeup, and I worked out enough that my body was fit and toned.

So no, I wasn't ugly, but that didn't mean I was never self-conscious about how I looked. But really? What girl isn't self conscious at least a few times in her life?

My phone beeped loudly on the nightstand next to me, and I quickly flipped it over to glance at the text.

Blake: I'm on my way.

Great.

Not only did I have no idea where my crazy best friend was taking me, but she also refused to give me any hints. And I hate surprises.

The only thing she told me was to dress comfortably. Right. Like that told me anything.

With another sigh, I grabbed my phone from the charger and made my way down the stairs. The TV blared in the living room, telling me he was home, so I quickly snuck into the kitchen, hoping to avoid a confrontation.

My phone beeped again as I was mindlessly cleaning the kitchen. Stacks of dishes piled in the sink, and spills lined the messy countertops.

Blake: I'm almost there.

Shaking my head, I chuckled at my best friend. No matter the mood I was in, somehow that girl always managed to make me smile.

It was one of the many things I loved about her.

"What are you laughing at?" A voice asked behind me, and I spun around, my eyes wide. I didn't hear him come in.

Surprisingly, he didn't look too intoxicated, and he wasn't yelling which was a start. Though it was only a matter of time.

"Just a text" I half-heartedly smile, continuing to wash the dishes in the sink. If I didn't do them, no one would and it would just continue to pile up.

"That's nice." He slumps in the kitchen chair, looking at me curiously. "Today was your last day of school right?"

"Yeah" I mutter quietly. I'm surprised he even knew.

It was a rare event when my dad was actually coherent enough to talk to me on a normal level, without raising his voice. It had been far too long, and it only made me more uncomfortable.

Palpable tension filled the room between us, and he sighed again to break the silence. "So when is your graduation?"

"Tomorrow" I shrugged. "But I'm not going"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to" I scowl. It's not like I was actually going to get to use my diploma in light of recent events, and there was no way in hell I was going to sit quiet for hours congratulating people I didn't even like. Aside from Blake or Elizabeth, I couldn't care less about my fellow peers as they walked across that stage.

"Okay" my father mutters, looking down at his hands. "Listen, I actually just wanted to ask you something"

Squeezing my eyes shut, my heart clenches in my chest. Of course he did. Because my father never had a civilized conversation with without wanting something in return.

"Look" he continues, "I need you to give me some money. My card was denied earlier." He looks at me pleadingly, his eyes alighting with hope at the possibility of more money for booze.