Page 9 of Saved By My Buyers

“June fourteenth,” she says with a grin. “It’s such a perfect date, isn’t it? It feels like a great day for something special to happen.”

I can’t breathe. My birthday isn’t special? You have to replace it with a wedding day?

“Of course,” I whisper. “Congratulations, Mom. I’m really excited for you. I want to make sure I ace the rest of my exams. May I be excused?”

“Yes, anything for school,” Mom gushes as I force myself to stand, dragging my bookbag after me as I leave the kitchen.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The thundering of my heart feels like a death knell as I walk to my room. I recently took an exam for history, and wrote a short essay about Vikings. I blame that as I think about the drums announcing that my life will never be mine. I’ll always be pulled through it at the whims of others.

My phone is buzzing in my bag as I toss it onto my bed, closing my door. The only person with that number is Jack, and I can’t stomach speaking to him about any of this. Crawling onto the bed, I attempt to take a deep, cleansing breath as I lay down on it.

I have no concept of time as I stare at the wall, but the sun is setting when Mom knocks harshly on my door. I haven’t opened up a single book, yet I know my exams won’t suffer for it. I was done studying for the night, I just didn’t want to sit in my mom’s presence for another second.

I think I liked it better when she was gone.

“Dahlia?” Mom calls through the door. “I know you’re busy, I just wanted to tell you that I spoke to Jack. He didn’t take it very well. But, that’s adult stuff. He wants to talk to you, so he said that he’s going to call. Okay?”

Her voice is sharper at the end, already exasperated with my lack of response. I can feel my cheek swelling, and don’t want to make anything else up for the school.

“Thanks, Mom,” I call out, scowling because I don’t really want to speak to Jack right now. I feel like hiding from the world, and he won’t let me hide from him.

She walks away without saying anything else, and I slightly relax. Mom’s energy is really unpredictable, which means her walking away now doesn’t mean she won’t return.

My phone begins to buzz incessantly, making me close my eyes tiredly. I feel much older than my fourteen years of age today. Fumbling for the pouch where my phone is in my backpack, I pull it out to catch Jack on the last ring.

“Hello?”

“Before you say anything, I’m moving to Detroit,” he grunts. “I don’t want to hear that you’re ‘fine’, not when the wedding is on your fucking birthday, okay?”

Tears stream down my face because an adult finally fucking showed up for me, and he gets me.

Chapter Two

Dahlia

This wedding is an absolute circus. My pale green dress, while beautiful, makes me feel like a tiered cake as I watch everyone rush around outside. The ceremony starts in an hour and a half, and Mom is still getting dressed, hiding from her soon-to-be husband.

At least it’s not as warm today, or I’d be sweaty and uncomfortable. Instead, I just feel as if I’m about to go under a microscope with people I don’t know.

“This is insane, isn’t it?” my soon-to-be stepsister asks, leaning next to me against a tree. Startled because I’ve been alone in my corner and lost in my thoughts, I glance over at Bronwyn. Her long red curls are perfectly behaved, and she doesn’t look at all ridiculous in the darker green dress that she’s wearing.

“Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing,” I murmur. “As long as they’re both happy, I guess it’s fine.”

I decided to pretend my birthday isn’t today. I’m completely abolishing the day. I don’t want to feel salty or sad on what is supposed to be my mom’s special day.

Again.

“Well, I don’t think just their happiness is important,” Bronwyn counters, pressing her shoulder against mine. Even though I just showed up out of the blue, she’s been really nice to me. I would have thought she’d be annoyed Mom dragged me to Detroit, but she hasn’t been at all.

“What about how you feel?”

“That doesn’t matter,” I state. “I’m simply decorative at this point.”

My brown curls have not enjoyed Michigan weather, and the hairdressers had a hell of a time taming them into the curled updo I’m now wearing. I wasn’t aware I had freckles either, but I don’t really pay attention to what I look like.

My tan from Florida is long faded, and there’s a small smattering of freckles now along my nose.

Dad’s Welsh background is popping out more it seems as I get older. I should feel excited that I have something of his to remember him by, but I’m not. The makeup artist attacked them with a vengeance, muttering about sun damage and how ugly she thinks freckles are.

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