Page 28 of The Fate Of Us

But his attention wasn’t on me, or the grass, or squinting from the fierce orange glow thatwas raining down on us. No, his eyes were fixed on my dad.

“I’ll be over at seven,”I assure him, winning his stare back and away from burning ahole in my dad’s head. They soften to that aquamarine shade as they do.

“Yeah, see you soon, Addy.”he nods at me before digging his heels into the grass andheading for his backyard.

My body twists back to face the stairs, my steps slow and lingering, almost like I don’twant to go home.

My dad steps aside as I climb the steps again, before heading inside.

“I’m just putting this in my room, and then I’ll be down,”I shout to him from the stairs,my shoulder staying clear from the frames and avoiding the gallery wall of photos purely of me, on sets and premiers and places that no child should think to when they think about their childhood.

I’m already walking the hallway to my bedroom before I hear him mutter something Idon’t think I want to know, before I walk straight into something.

“Ooh, Adaline.”Someone, I should say.“Watch where you’re flying, little bird.”

I creak my neck up to see my mom, never-ending strands of blonde cascading down the aprondotted with flowers that covered her, as her hands, which were always warm, press against my forehead before smoothing down my hair.

“Sorry,”I muttered, as one of her hands skated under my chin.

“You’re okay.”she smiles, before making mine fade. “Just don’t be too long, honey. Thecallbacks are only a day away.”She calls, that motherly smile warming me like her hands, before she steps around me and floats downstairs.

I always knew my mom was put on the planet to be a mother. There was just somethingabout her, a glow that only seemed to ignite when we were around. Constant, golden. She looked after me, and Goldie, with such a gentle ferocity that I wouldn’t know how to survive without her. And on her own? She was perfect.

But the longer I held her stare, the deeper I searched, I saw it—the darkness that smudged the windows to her soul. I’d notice it when she was around Dad too… the dreams that neither of them captured became evident to them both, too loud to ignore, darkening that onyx sparkle that lived in her dreamy eyes.

I saw different kinds of glow hover over my mom sometimes. When she’d drive me toauditions, it was a sad glow, blue and heavy and completely somber. I didn’t know what it meant. I could decide whether she was jealous or whether she saw thatIwas unhappy. Then, when we’d get invited, as a family, to premieres for shows and movies I’d worked on, it was a happy glow, that there was still some way she could experience this life, the life that she dreamed about the same way I dreamed about writing.

Given how much she does for me, and how weird it is that I’m living her dreams… it wasno wonder I felt like I had to carry on. I can’t bring myself to tell her, tell dad, about what I want to be doing instead.

Ungrateful. That was what they’d call me. What I’d call myself.

But then, in the back of my mind, would be my writing, and how it made me feel. I hopedone day someone would notice my glows, and what they meant.

“I know,”I reply, even though I could already hear her discussing my schedule with mydad in the kitchen.

I jog down the rest of the hallway until I close my bedroom door behind me. My cheeksare probably as red as my hair with the amount of running I’ve done today. But it’s fine. I’m in my safe space now. My room. And even though I’m sweating and fighting for my breath, I take these precious moments I have to myself to try on the dress in my hands.

The cream cotton slides on with impressive ease, and I feel so pretty, like a fairy of somesort. I stand in front of the mirror propped up against my bed, getting lost while I take in the girl staring back at me. The way the skirt bends and moulds over me makes me feel like I’m entering the doors of womanhood and scarily close to waving bye to the sparkles and princess dresses of girlhood.

Almost.

“Ooo, Addy, you’re pwetty!!”I hear my little sister call from my doorway, making mejump and spin to face the intruder. I should really get a lock for this door soon. She’s lucky she’s my world.“Where are you going?”

“Oh, just to Nate’s,”I say, smoothing out the cotton while I gaze back at Goldie throughthe reflection in the mirror.

I loved being a sister. Her big sister. I wished I had an older sister, ready to guide methrough my impending teenage years. But I still smile deeper at the thought that I'll be that for her someday.

“If you’re going to Nate’s, then why are you wearing that?”She asks, taking a seat at theend of my bed, her eyes all wide and fiery, like mine. Light years different from the blonde hair gathered up into pigtails on either side of her head. The same shade as Mom's.

“I thought it looked cute. I found it in a thrift store in Rosemead.”I turn my attentionback to my reflection, pulling at the gaping waistband.“It’s a bit big for me, but I’ll grow into it.”

She drops her dangling ballet flats onto the floor, tiptoeing her way over to me by themirror.“It’s weal pretty, Addy.”she says, twiddling the cotton in her hands.“Can I borrow it when I’m older like you?”

I smile as I wrap my arm around her and tug her into me, my hand smoothing out her fringe, which I sometimes get jealous of.“Of course you can,”I follow her eyes, which are tracing the edges of the dress, before they land on me, her mouth parting.

“But,”Her little brows pull together.“If you’re just going to Nate’s, why are youdwessing all fancy?”she questions.

For a six-year-old, she’s rather observant.

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