Being herself has never been a challenge for Nyla until high school, where bitches, boobs and boys invades the minds of everyone... Well, everyone except her, of course.
Nyla never cared much about any of the three B's until she grew conscious of h...
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There were a few times in my life when I felt like crumbling into a ball of nothingness and literally going “poof.” And just like that, I’d be void of existence.
This time was precisely one of them.
I knew I must’ve been having a nightmare. There was no way I could lose Austin and run into my long-lost dad on the same day without this being some test from the universe or a freaking prank show.
So, it was no doubt a dream. Any minute now, I’ll wake up, and it’ll be Friday morning. Any minute now, my alarm will bore through my subconscious and save me from this nightmare.
Yet, the only sound I heard was my dad’s voice.
“Uh, sorry. You must’ve mistaken me for someone else,” he mumbled before turning on his heels.
My heart—or whatever was left of it—shattered as I stared at his retreating frame. Did Dad just … deny me?
This couldn’t be happening. Did he really leave us? Did he just pack up one day after the attack and decide to drop us like dead meat?
No. I knew my dad, and I knew he would never ever leave his kids unless it was through death. And now, he was very much alive, so there must be a reasonable explanation.
Or, at least, I hoped there was.
I couldn’t let him get away. So, I recovered from whatever shock I had been in and bore through the crowd toward the staircase. Thank goodness it wasn’t as crowded as the rest of the room, so it was easier to find him.
“Dad!” I shouted as I grabbed his arm. He swerved around, now looking slightly annoyed, but my dad just the same.
He hadn’t changed a bit. His green eyes shone the same as I remembered, though his brown hair was way longer than we were used to when he was in the army. Pretty much, he looked like my dad—like the man who carried Trisha and me on his back and brought the largest bouquets of roses for Mom anytime he was coming home.
Yet, there was something different in his eyes. The familiar glint they always held whenever he looked at his kids was gone. That’s when I knew he really didn’t know who I was.
What the hell happened to him?
“You don’t know who I am,” I said, more like a statement than a question.
He rested his hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow at me, looking at me as if I was crazy. I mean, I knew why he would think that. I was soaked and covered in mud. Anyone would think I was.
