TRAPPED

9

Celine

I decide to take a nap once Diya and Mateo leave with Zavian.

An hour and a half later I wake up when someone shakes my shoulder with a gentle hand. I peel my eyes open to see my father sitting beside me. He smiles at me. "Hi, sweetheart."

"What do you want?" I ask.

He frowns. "Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry." I say.

"Are you sure? You've been figure skating for most of the day, and you haven't had anything since."

"Don't care. Leave."

     "Celine, please come eat something." He says softly.

     "Are you not listening?" I ask. "I'm not hungry."

     He sighs and stands, and a few moments later I hear the door close. I fall back asleep, woken up again by my father who sets a plate of food on my bedside table before shaking me into consciousness again.

     "I got you a plate of food." He whispers.

I'd roll my eyes if they weren't shut.

     "Celine." He says.

     "What?"

     "You have to eat. Come on." He sets his hands under my arms and pulls me up into a sitting position. I scowl. "You can go to bed after, baby."

I shove his hands away and grumble as I set the plate on top of the duvet. I swallow a mouthful and say: "you happy?"

     "Mhm." He replies. "Are you going to your ice rink tomorrow?" He asks.

     I nod. "For a few hours."

     "Okay. We can get your school uniform tomorrow then, afterwards."

     "I've already told you I'm not going."

     He sighs. "You have to go to school, sweetheart."

     "No, it's useless." I say.

     "You can go, and if you really don't like it then we can figure something out. Yes?"

     "No."

     Another sigh leaves his lips. "You can't not go, Celine. That's not how it works."

     I roll my eyes. "Whatever. I'm not going."

"You have to." He says. "School's really important."

"No it's not. They just make you feel bad about what you get in tests. And I don't wanna be the new girl. It's so annoying." My mother and I have moved around a lot, and in each school that's always my label. The longest we stayed somewhere was four years, and even when I was leaving I was called that.

He sighs again, and I notice a bit of pity enter his gaze. "Is that what you're worried about? The work?"

"None of your business." I grumble. "You can go now."

He stands up. "Okay. We can talk more about this later, yeah?"

"Nope."

But he's already walking toward the door, and I have a feeling we will anyway.

I release a heavy breath when the door closes behind him. I push the food away, setting it on the nightstand, before checking the time on my phone. It's almost eight o'clock.