Dead and Departed

Chapter Three:

Miya sighed and clicked 'submit' on her english paper. She didn't like her work, knowing it was never good enough for her strict teacher. She wasn't good at english class in the first place, but now she was in danger of failing. Mr. Sullivan, who liked to brag that he was related to Anne Sullivan (though this was never confirmed), was a tough case. He dissected everyone's work, searching for every possible way to criticize their writing. Getting back your graded essay (if it was on paper), you would see every sentence highlighted in multiple colors, pointing out what you did wrong, what sounded wrong, what was right, what was grammatically wrong, was grammatically right, etc. He gave a rubric to you after an online assignment was graded, filled out with everything he wanted you to know. Mr. Sullivan was the kind of teacher who everyone didn't want.

At least he gives you feedback. Miya told herself, massaging her forehead. At least you know what he's looking for.

Yeah, right. Who was Miya trying to fool? Mr. Sullivan was, by far, her worst teacher.

But, English teachers aside, she had math homework to work on now. Before she could get started, however, Miya's dad opened the door.

"Do you want to take a break, Miya?"

"Yes," Miya said. She knew they were going somewhere. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," Her dad smiled. "But promise you'll stay calm. I wouldn't bring you if I wasn't worried about leaving you home alone."

"I'm nearly twelve, dad."

"I know, sugar. But I'm your dad. You're coming."

"Okay."

Miya left her homework to be finished later, following her dad into their car. It shuddered to life, and we were on our way. Miya knew better than to ask her dad where they were going. When dad wanted to keep a surprise, he was like an air-tight lunch container.

Soon, we were at a little house in the middle of nowhere, knocking on the faded green door. Miya wondered who was inside, why her dad had told her to stay calm. Was it some old guy with dementia?

It wasn't an old guy who answered the door, though. It was a woman. She just stood in the doorway, silent, staring at Miya's dad.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was cold, hollow. Unwelcoming.

"Ms. Thatcher," Miya's dad started. He didn't seem to be bothered by her icy demeanor. "I've come to invited yo--"

"Don't you get it?" Ms. Thatcher interrupted. She could have spit fire. "Nothing you do will work. So stop trying and give up! Give up!" She slammed the door shut, making Miya jump. Her dad sighed.

"Every time. Let's go, Miya." Miya's dad took her hand and pulled her away.

"What was that about?" Miya asked. Her dad shook his head.

"Another time, Miya. I'll tell you soon."

"How soon?"

"When you're ready."

They pulled out onto the road. Miya thought back to when her dad had called home, explaining that he was in the hospital. He'd assured her everything was fine. He would just limp sometimes. Miya could tell that something worse had happened. Felt in it her heart, her gut, her brain. How could she tell?

Because Miya had a secret.

Okay, I'm telling myself that I need to stop writing this so I can get my first chapter for The Peculiar Traveler done. I promised that it would be out in a couple days, but it's been four (oops).

So I won't be updating this very often for a while. I'm determined not to make the four a five.

So long, and have an outstanding 24 hours!

~Eudora Perine