One Tiny Secret - By Adam Kunz Page 0,4
fighting to stay in bed as long as I can. My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet, and I turn to look at the clock. I’ve technically still got two minutes of sleep left.
“Screw it,” I say as I fling back the covers and sit up in bed, realizing I’ll get nothing out of those last two minutes.
“Dani, breakfast will be in five,” I hear my Dad call up the stairs.
“Breakfast? On a Friday? Oh Dad, you really must have put yourself through the wringer this time,” I whisper to myself.
I’m not even sure I want to go downstairs at this point, because I’m kind of scared to see him like this. It dawns on me that their divorce anniversary is coming up soon, and that’s probably why he’s been in such rare form lately. He’s been working a lot more than usual, and sometimes I feel he forgets that he has a daughter at home waiting for him. I just hope he snaps out of it soon, because I’m starting to miss the dad he used to be.
“Be right down,” I call back.
I notice the clothes I picked out last night hanging on the back of my bedroom door, and my nose scrunches up. “Was I drunk when I picked these out?” I ask myself, examining my failed attempt at making an outfit. Scrapping the entire ensemble, I pick out new clothes from the closet and hurry to the bathroom.
Before jumping into the shower, I stop in front of the vanity mirror that’s outlined with tiny, round light bulbs, and examine my bloodshot eyes. My poor green beauties are surrounded by a ring of red, causing them to look like Christmas ornaments. The bags under them serve even more as a reminder that my current lack of sleep is caused by, one, Parker Reed.
I practically run down the stairs to the kitchen after my shower. I lost track of time while standing in the calming warm water, still thinking of he who shall not be named.
When I enter the kitchen, my dad’s sitting at the small table next to the window, still in his comfy pajamas and flipping through the daily paper.
“How’d you sleep, kiddo?” he asks, peering over the paper.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I reply, looking him up and down. “And why aren’t you in your uniform yet?”
He laughs. “I was getting there. I just wanted to relax with the paper and some coffee first.”
“Some coffee?” I ask him pointedly while gesturing to the more than half-empty pot.
“I had a rough night last night and needed a little extra something to get me going today.”
“And breakfast too? Eggs, bacon, and pancakes?”
“Okay, make that a really rough night.”
I make up a plate of food and pour myself a cup of joe before joining him at the table.
“Oh…Kevin just called from the shop. Your car will be ready for pick-up after school. And you were right. It was your spark plugs.”
“I told you, I know my girl,” I say, and my dad lets out a slight chuckle.
I’ve had my car for about three years now, and someone had her for eighteen years before me. I absolutely love that blue POS and every single one of her dents. I call them her beauty marks. She gets me from point A to point B, and that’s all I need. My dad wants me to get rid of her, but I think she’ll last me at least through the end of the school year.
“Weren’t you and Kevin dating or something?” he asks, catching me off-guard.
“Dad, seriously? Kevin and I are just friends. We never dated…ever. And since when are you keeping tabs on my love life?”
“Oh, so you have a love life now, huh?” he inquires with a smirk.
“You know what I meant.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to talk with my daughter. Is that okay? Your mom did have the talk with you, right?”
“Oh my God, we’re so not discussing this right now,” I state while pouring syrup over my pancakes.
“I’m just making sure. You don’t have to get all embarrassed,” he says, turning his attention back to the paper in his hands.
“Well, she did. So you don’t have to worry about that, okay?”
He laughs while rustling open the next page. “Thank God, because I wasn’t prepared for that can of worms. Are you sure you and Kevin never dated?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” I reply with a hint of irritation. I can practically hear his grin from behind the newspaper. He always