CHAPTER 2
I had just woken up from the horrible dreams that had haunted me since childhood.
The sun was already sneaking in through the tiny spaces between my plain blue curtains. I covered my eyes with my arm. I wasn't ready to face the day.
And I knew exactly why—
It was Monday.
Mondays have never been my favorite. Too much traffic, too much stress… and way too much bad luck for me.
But I knew if I didn't get up in the next ten minutes, I'd be risking detention before the week even properly started.
I'm not exactly a goody-two-shoes, but I really don't like detention not because of the punishment, but because of the weird people I'd have to sit with.
My school has some strict rules.
I had already showered and was drying my long hair, considering whether to braid it, when my mind drifted off again… back to the dreams.
My dreams.
When they first started, I would scream and cry. Dad always rushed in to console me.
But over time, I learned how to stop screaming—
Or maybe I just got used to it.
Or maybe… I just didn't want to bother Dad anymore. He had his own grief to deal with, too.
It was always the same:
A little girl—me—running through a dark, thick forest.
My heart squeezed painfully, like it always does when I think about the dreams.
I could feel the girl's emotions. The little girl had lost something precious—
And I knew exactly what she had lost.
My heart tightened into a painful knot, like it always does when my guilt comes crawling back.
Tears were already streaming down my face when I heard Dad calling out to me.
"Amelia, come out for breakfast."
I knew I had to shelve my emotional breakdown for later, so I shoved it back into the deepest closet my heart could offer.
I didn't go downstairs immediately—
I wasn't ready to face Dad.
We had a little argument last night because I'd missed my curfew without even texting him. He's usually the gentle type, but I guess that was too much for one day.
"You're almost late—come down already!" he called again.
"Okay, Daddy," I replied, my voice soft.
I grabbed my backpack and walked over to the full-length mirror opposite my bed. I spun around, checking my outfit: baggy black jeans and my favorite white blouse.
"Okay. Good enough."
Taking a deep breath, I went downstairs, bracing myself for whatever punishment he had in mind.
Dad is really strict when it comes to consequences.
I got to the dining table just in time to just catch the sound of the toaster dinging and the sweet-spicy scent of fried eggs filled the whole kitchen. I grabbed the milk jug and mugs, avoiding eye contact. I didn't have to look at him to know he was still mad.
He wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and sat in his usual seat. The chair next to his was empty—
Just like it had been for a while now.
"So, young lady, are you ready for your punishment?"
I looked up from my plate. He was smirking.
That smirk. Never a good sign.
"Yes, Daddy. Just say it. I'm already so nervous."
He burst out laughing, a deep, genuine laugh that showed off his perfect teeth. It reminded me where I got my own smile from.
"Okay," he said, trying to keep a straight face. "So here's your punishment: You're going to visit Aunt Motara next week."
He paused for dramatic effect. "And you're also going shopping for prom dresses—with your friends."
"Dad… is that seriously my punishment?" I asked, confused.
He nodded, looking pleased with himself.
I was stunned. He really knew how to hit my sore spots.
I never got along with Aunt Motara. I don't know why. So instead of making myself uncomfortable in her presence, I always avoided her.
She's always made me feel… wrong. Like I'm wrong for even existing.
The way she stares at me is nerve-wracking.
And prom? I never planned on going. Parties have never interested me, and honestly, I doubted I'd even have a date. But Stella's been harassing me nonstop to go shopping with her, so I guess I might as well kill two birds with an overwhelmingly large stone.
"So, deal or no deal?" Dad asked, grinning slightly.
I had no option. It could've been worse. He could have confiscated my most prized possessions-my books. So yeah, deal it is.
"Deal, deal," I muttered, accepting my defeat.
I was finishing up my toast when I suddenly remembered—I hadn't told Dad about the parent-teacher session at school.
I looked up to tell him, but he seemed lost in thought, like his mind had drifted somewhere far away.
"Dad… is something bothering you?" I asked, even though I knew he wouldn't tell me.
"Nothing much," he replied with a faint smile. "Just something at work. I have a new patient to attend to. Don't worry about me—I'm fine."
"Okay. Take it easy… and don't forget to eat on time," I said softly.
I didn't want to push it. I knew he'd talk when the time was right.
"Okay. And before I forget—no more unexplained parties for you until prom night."
I nodded in agreement. I'd learned my lesson already.
A quick glance at my wristwatch told me I had just 40 minutes before my first class, and the drive took about 30. I really hoped I could make it on time.
I rinsed my dishes as quickly as I could, shouted a hurried goodbye to Dad, and dashed to my car parked in the garage beside our two-story house.
---
Later that day...
Stella's annoyed voice snapped me back to reality.
One look at her face and—yeah, she was furious.
Every Monday, I have to wait for Stella for an hour because she takes Geography and I don't. Most times, I read a book in my car while waiting, or I stroll to the school library to read and chat with the librarian so she can reserve new collections for me.
I was chuckling now, amused by something I'd remembered. Stella's annoyed voice snapped me back to reality.
One look at her face and—yeah, she was furious.
"Finally, you snapped out of it. I've been calling you for like two minutes now! So… what were you so lost thinking about? And don't pass it off as nothing," she added, folding her arms across her chest—ready to argue to death if I refused to talk.
I laughed out loud, already thinking: Oh, so typical Stella. Always stubborn, never resting until she gets what she wants—whether it's the boys or me hiding anything from her.
We have been inseparable ever since I saw her trying to crawl her way through the tiny tear in the protective fence of mom's garden, it's been 10 years.
"Why are you laughing, girl? I'm serious."
In her defense, her hand ball had somehow made its way into the midst of blooming lilies, roses, and amaryllis.
"I know you are, Stel," I replied with a smirk. "I was just remembering what happened with me and Charlie this morning. Had a little father-daughter talk… cleared the air."
"So he won't mind you going out for a party again?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't think he'll say no, but I'm definitely getting a curfew," I said with a playful groan. "And honestly, I don't even think I want to go to any more parties. You know how I am. I only went because that jerk bailed at the last minute. Ugh, I feel like punching him." I punched the air dramatically.
"Yeah, he's a total jerk," Stella agreed, matching my energy. "But don't worry—I'll get my revenge. Not now, though. I'll wait till it's cold and he's completely forgotten about it. Then—bam!" She smirked and punched the air too.
That had both of us laughing.
"So yeah," I added with a shrug. "That's why I'm all good with Charlie's decision anyway."
"Okay, okay," she said, finally letting the topic go. "So how was class today?"
She looked like she was about to bring the party drama up again but thought better of it and switched gears.
"It was good and fun like always, Amelia," she said. "And you're seriously missing out. Why on earth did you choose library study instead of Geography?" She shook her head like I'd made a grave life choice.
"You know," she added dramatically, "sometimes even my best friend still doesn't understand you. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Because I know—wherever there's a book and some quiet, Lana will be there."
I smiled shyly. "Well… wherever there's a book and quiet, there's peace of mind. Effortless peace of mind, Stel. It just comes to you, and I love it."
I paused, scanning her face before continuing.
"And besides… everyone, especially you, knows how bad I am with directions and locations. No matter how small it is. Geography is not my turf, girl."
She just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Okay," before turning to look out of the open window.
We were on the road, and I was driving—which was rare. Most times, when Stella drove us home, we would stop by my house first. After a few hours, I'd walk her to hers. It's walkable from mine. That's been our routine ever since I got a car.
But today, Stella wanted to go straight to her house.
I was surprised but didn't say anything or ask her why. I just simply obliged and dropped her off.