I’ll be eighteen a few weeks from now, but I still feel as small as the seven-year-old kid who begged him to stay. The stupid little kid who painted him as my first kindergarten picture.
Henry Clifford is still strong and well-built for someone in his mid-forties. His dark brown hair, another something I inherited, is slicked back, highlighting his strong forehead and the straight, aristocratic nose.
His pressed navy suit clings to his body as if he were born into one. I certainly don’t remember him out of it.
When I was a kid, I used to feel out of my skin with joy whenever he showed up.
Now, he just intimidates me.
I don’t know when he stopped being my dad and started being his title.
Victoria places her hand on top of Dad’s with a sickeningly sweet smile that’s causing me diabetes. “It’s okay, darling. She’ll come around.”
Kill me now.
“Morning!” A breeze of strong cherry perfume — that must’ve cost another fortune — brushes past me.
Nicole kisses her mum and my dad on their cheeks before flopping on Dad’s left.
We’re wearing the same school uniform, but she somehow makes it look more elegant with a pressed blue skirt and the shirt’s cuffs rolled over RES’s jacket. Her blonde hair falls in waves to the middle of her back as if every strand was taken care of separately.
Of course, unlike me, Nicole doesn’t eat like a pig. She takes her time to cut and shew while conversing with the adults about her upcoming tests and school activities.
Hanging my head, I push around the remnants of my cheesecake, not bothering to eat.
To say I feel like a stranger would be an understatement. Victoria and Nicole always snatch Dad’s attention while I sit here as unnoticeable as a wallflower.
I try to ignore the stab of hurt when Dad offers Nicole a smile he never gives me anymore. All I get from him are drawn brows and disapproving stares.
“Maybe you can study math with Astrid,” Victoria suggests in an awfully cheerful mode. “I’m sure Nicole can help you get better results.”
I would rather choke on my own vomit, thank you very much.
“If you weren’t so stubborn to refuse a private tutor, maybe you wouldn’t have catastrophic results.” The edge of disapproval in Dad’s voice is like a knife to my heart. “Why can’t you be like Nicole?”
“Why don’t you adopt her and spare us all the misery?” I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it came out, anyway.
The clinks and clanks of utensils stop as silence stakes claim in the dining area. Even the kitchen staff stop mid-stride.
My ears heat with both shame and anger.
Maybe my own dad should stop comparing me to his perfect stepdaughter.
Maybe he should’ve left me alone after Mum died.
At least then, I wouldn’t feel like a stranger whenever I’m around his family.
I snatch my backpack and jump out of my seat before Dad can burn me some more.
Behind me, Victoria tells him, “Astrid is just going to be Astrid.”
I wipe a tear from my eye as I make my way out.
I miss you so much, Mum.
Sketchpad in hand, I wait near the entrance of the park for Dan to pick me up.
Since it’s early, only joggers come in and out of the park. I like watching the exertion and how much they work for what they want.
Capturing those moments have been my passion.
Or rather. Was.
All the charcoal lines blur into something unrecognisable. The slight tremor in my hand hasn’t subsided since the accident. For two and a half months, I haven’t been able to sketch anything properly.
No matter how much I try, it isn’t there anymore.
The magic disappeared.
The doctor said there’s no physical damage and that all of this is mental. The shrink said that I could be resisting something or that I’m under a lot of stress. My trauma is translating into my ability to create art.
I wanted to tell him that I have no trauma. That I’m going to find who ran me over and teach them a lesson and everything will be totally cool. However, Dr Edmonds is psychoanalysing me a lot already.
The last thing I need is for him to suggest some psyche ward to Dad.
I sigh as I throw the sketchpad back into my backpack.
Sketching has been the only thing that kept me sane after Mum’s death. If I lose that, too, then it’s like losing another piece of Mum.
At this rate, I’ll have nothing left of her.
A honk startles me from my thoughts.
Nicole’s Audi parks right in front of me, uncaring about half-blocking the park’s entrance.
Of course, Nicole drives an Audi. Dad’s gift for her eighteenth birthday during the summer. The same summer that I spent recovering from an accident.
Not that I’m bitter or anything.
Besides, since Mum’s accident, I gave up on driving altogether.
“I’d offer you a ride, but my car doesn’t do losers.”
Her friend, Cloe, snickers from the passenger seat while applying lip gloss.
Oh, for the love of Vikings. Nicole and her bitch friend are the last people I need to start my day.
“You have nothing better to do with your time, Nicole?” I raise an eyebrow. “Aside from kissing my dad’s arse, of course.”
“I just wanted to tell you how right you are for once. Uncle should just adopt me and erase you completely from the family registry. We all know you’ll never be able to carry the Clifford name as I can.”
I swallow the stab of how much her words are right and how much they affect me even when I don’t want them to. It’s not about the name. It’s about how she’s going to steal Dad once and for all while I watch.
“And yet, you’re still Nicole Adler.” I meet her malicious stare. “I don’t see a Clifford there. Do you?”
She snarls, but Cloe nudges her arm. “Tell her to stay away.”
Seeming to backpedal, Nicole measures me up and down with distaste like she and her mother did the first day Dad brought me to ‘their’ home.
“Hey, Viking. Stay away from King.”
I study my black nails, fighting a fake yawn. Nicole came with the ‘Viking’ nickname as a jab at how much I watch the show, but the joke is on her. That TV series has more stars than she’d ever have.
“Last I checked, he’s the one who approached me.”
“As if King would ever be interested in a charity case like you.” She spits out.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I raise a mocking eyebrow. “Who holds the family name again?”
“Stay away from King or you’ll regret it.”
“Regret what?” Dan’s voice reaches me before he stands beside me and flings his arm around my shoulder.
People who say that a knight in shining armour can only be a prince or a love interest or whatever are totally wrong. Mine has appeared in the form of my best friend.
Daniel has parked his car down the street and made his way to stand by my side in front of bullies. Not that I can’t handle Nicole and her minion, but Dan knows how much these confrontations exhaust me.
It’s no good for my invisibility case.
Nicole’s face reddens as her eyes bounce from me to Daniel and back again. “Just what we needed. The loser friend.”