What's Wrong with Emma?

The sharp ring of my alarm jolted me awake. Groaning, I grabbed my phone to silence the noise, tossed it back on the nightstand, and closed my eyes, hoping for just a few more minutes of sleep.

It had been a late night. I’d stayed up cramming for my junior year finals, and now, as usual, I was struggling to drag myself out of bed.

A knock on my bedroom door was followed by my dad’s familiar voice.

“Emma! Just a reminder—you still have school today, in case you forgot!” He chuckled from behind the door.

I groaned again, too tired to respond. When I didn’t answer, his voice became louder.

“Emma! You’re going to be late. Get up!”

“Mmm,” I managed to mumble, burying myself deeper into my blanket.

He wasn’t giving up.

“Emma! Don’t make me use my secret weapon!” he warned, sounding more amused than serious.

“Five more minutes,” I murmured from under the covers, my voice muffled by sleep.

Without warning, I heard the door creak open. His footsteps approached, and before I knew it, I felt his hands gently shaking my shoulders.

“Emma, wake up.”

Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?

“Dad, please, one more minute. I swear I’ll get up,” I muttered, clinging to the last threads of sleep.

“Nope, no more delays,” he said, a little more firmly this time. Then, with one swift motion, he yanked the blanket off me.

“Ugh, Dad!” I protested, squinting at the sudden light. But I still didn’t move.

“You’re a stubborn one,” he sighed, standing next to the bed. But I should have known he wasn’t done.

The next thing I knew, his hands grabbed my feet and he started tickling me. I gasped, my eyes flying open as I kicked and wriggled in protest.

“Dad, stop!” I yelled between uncontrollable bursts of laughter. “Okay! I’m up! I’m up!”

Laughing, he finally released me.

“That’s better. Now go wash up—breakfast will be ready soon,” he said, clearly satisfied with himself as he left the room.

Once he was gone, I sat up, catching my breath. I couldn’t help but smile, despite the rude awakening.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered to myself.

I reached for my phone again, checking the time. A few messages from my friends—Ana, Jenny, and Amanda—popped up in our group chat, reminding me about our study session at the library after school. My eyes flicked to my recent texts, but there were still no messages from Jason.

It had been days since I last heard from him. I’d called, texted—nothing. Jason Williams, my best friend since childhood, had suddenly gone silent.

Lately, things had felt different between us. He was always busy with new friends, always out at parties, surrounded by girls. Seeing him with them made me feel... well, jealous. Not that I had any right to be. Jason was just my friend—nothing more. At least, that’s what I told myself.

But deep down, I knew better.

I’d been in love with Jason for years. Ever since we were kids, since the day I first laid eyes on him. But he’d never seen me that way. To him, I was just Emma—his best friend.

Sighing, I threw my phone down and got out of bed. Dwelling on Jason wasn’t going to make today any easier.

In the bathroom, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Long, silky black hair, and the grey eyes I’d inherited from my father. People always said I looked like my mom, but those eyes were all Dad. Smiling at the thought, I washed up quickly, brushed my teeth, and threw on a loose shirt, jeans, and my favorite Adidas sneakers. A ponytail completed the look.

With my bag slung over my shoulder, I headed downstairs, the smell of pancakes pulling me toward the kitchen.

My family—Dad, Mom, and my little brother Kevin—were already seated around the table, laughing about something I’d probably missed.

“Morning!” I called, sliding into my seat.

“Morning, sweetheart!” Dad greeted me with a grin, clearly still proud of his wake-up tactics.

“Did you sleep well?” Mom asked as she handed me a plate of pancakes.

“Yeah, great, thanks to him,” I said, rolling my eyes at Dad.

“You mean my secret weapon?” Dad chuckled. “It works every time. Right, Kevin?”

Kevin nodded eagerly, giggling between bites of his breakfast.

I smirked. “Yeah, maybe because he’s six. I’m a teenager, Dad. I don’t need tickling to get out of bed.”

Dad leaned back in his chair, grinning. “Well, you weren’t exactly leaping out of bed this morning.”

Mom playfully smacked his arm. “Let the girl eat, already.”

“Fine, fine,” Dad said, still chuckling. “But don’t think I won’t use my techniques again if I have to.”

I shook my head, digging into my pancakes.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Dad asked, turning serious for a moment.

“Studying with the girls after school,” I replied between bites. “Tests are coming up, so we’ll be at the library for a while.”

“Good,” Mom said. “And Jason? He hasn’t been around lately.”

I tensed at the mention of his name but tried to play it cool. “He’s been busy, I guess,” I said, shrugging. “We’ve both been pretty swamped.

“Mom looked at me curiously, but thankfully, she didn’t push the subject.

Dad, however, had a different focus. “So, who are you studying with again? Any boys?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes. “No, Dad. It’s just me, Ana, Jenny, and Amanda.”

“And you’re not interested in dating anyone, right?” he added, a teasing tone in his voice.

I sighed dramatically. “No, Dad. No dating. Just studying.”

“That’s my girl!” he said, beaming. “Focus on school, get into college, and become an architect like your old man.”

I groaned. “Not this again.”

Before he could launch into his usual speech about my future, I stood up, grabbing my bag. “I gotta go, or I’ll be late. Love you!”

“Love you too, sweetheart!” Mom called as I headed for the door.

“I’m not done talking about this!” Dad shouted after me.

But I was already out the door, leaving that conversation for another day.

As I walked to school, my thoughts drifted back to Jason. Dating him was a distant, almost impossible dream. My dad adored him, sure—but he also knew about Jason’s reputation lately. His new friends, his parties, all those girls... It was no wonder Dad wouldn’t even consider it.

And yet, despite everything, I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was more to our story.