Page 2 of Not Your Little Girl Anymore

His chest rises as he takes a deep breath. “I’m sure they saw it on the news. Finish eating.”

The downturn of his expression is visible, and I look away, no longer hungry. I lick my parched lips and swallow the lump, clawing its way up the center of my throat. Dad can’t possibly think avoiding all topics about Mom is a good idea, can he?

“Dad.” I straighten my spine. My chest grows heavier, but I know if I don’t try to figure out some answers, I will never heal. “Why was Mom in that dark alley? How could she have possibly...”

He cuts me off. “Not now, Summer.”

“It’s just...”

“We’ll talk about this later.”

He doesn’t break eye contact with me, and I have a strange feeling that he won’t want to discuss this later. Neither of us wants to talk about it, but we have to.

“Dad, please,” I beg. “I need to know.”

His lips purse, and the muscles in his jaw tighten. “I said, not now!”

I slam my fist onto the table. “Damn it, Dad!”

All eyes fall on us. Dad’s posture tightens, but the tension he is holding releases as he exhales slowly and rubs the salt and pepper stubble on his face. He gives the people around us a tight smile and then looks at me, leaning over the table.

“Summer, I know you have questions, as do I, but now is not the time to discuss your mother.”

“It’s never going to be a good time,” I point out in a near whisper.

He sighs, ignoring me completely, and I shake my head in disbelief.

“It’s fine. I’m not hungry.” I hurry out of the booth, blinking back the tears threatening to leave my eyelids. “I’ll see you at home.”

***

Nothing has changed.

Two years have gone by, and everything about the house is the same. The swing on the porch is where it was before I left. The flowers Mom and I planted when I was eight are somehow still alive and blooming.

I chew on my bottom lip and inhale a deep breath before unloading my boxes of clothes.

Dad assumes I’ll only be home for the summer. If he saw that I had all my stuff stored in the trunk of my car, he’d have a fit. Moving as quickly as possible, I grab as many boxes as my little arms can hold and walk up the walkway.

The house’s gray hue possesses a subtle warmth. The royal blue shutters that adorn the windows somehow make the house come alive. It’s beautiful and elegant—everything Mom wanted.

My chest tightens, thinking about how happy she would be to see me and how she’ll never get to see me again.

When I get inside, I half expect to see Mom whipping up her famous spaghetti and meatballs in the kitchen. Dad lounged in his recliner, watching Family Feud—like old times. Except Mom isn’t in the kitchen, and Dad isn’t in his recliner. I almost feel a sense of comfort, but it is washed away immediately.

Taking a few steps inside my bedroom, I drop the boxes off to the side with a thud. My eyes start wandering around the room. My computer is on my desk, surrounded by the textbooks I piled around it. My light pink silk curtains are still closed and my bed is neatly made.

I kick off my boots and sit in my black computer chair, frowning at the small picture that hangs on my wall. It’s a picture of me, Mom, and Dad at my martial arts competition. I was holding my first medal after winning second place. Under that is another picture from when I earned my black belt.

Sighing, I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone to text my best friend, Chloe.

Save me.

The bubbles in the bottom left corner pop up right away, and my phone vibrates in my hand.

I’m not much of a savior, but there is an event downtown at Tale’s Gate Recreation Field. I’ll meet you there. It’ll be fun!

I stare at her message for a beat, debating whether to tell her I will go next time. But I also consider whether I should go. It will help me get my mind off everything that has happened the past couple of days, and I need that.

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