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Don't Look Close

By LoweFantasy or T.S. Lowe All Rights Reserved ©

Drama / Romance

Blurb

Computer geek Aurora is happy. She’s used to being the new kid at school every year, so she doesn’t worry about what other people think. She doesn’t have any issues with herself. Life is good. She hasn’t just been kicked out of her home to live with her distant biological father. She doesn’t have an abusive ex-boyfriend who is more or less stalking her, and she most definitely doesn’t feel out of place in the rich-snob private school her oblivious father has enrolled her in. And just because one of her new friends is handsome, witty, and better at hacking than she is doesn’t mean she’s in love. So, please, don’t look close.

Out of Place

I didn’t know how I had ended up here. One minute I’m living in a tiny, dirty apartment where we played ‘wack a’roach’ every morning, and now here I was on the edge of New Hampshire, looking at a yellow Victorian mansion that could have popped out of Pride and Prejudice. I held on to the handle of my ratty red suitcase and tried not to flinch when the owner of this huge house, my pseudo long-lost dad, tried to take it. He lifted it up awkwardly, and I was almost surprised to see him not look like a complete goober going up the stairs and across the porch with it.

“I’ve got your room all ready for you, Aurora. I hope you like purple, because that’s the last color I remember you telling me you liked.”

“Yeah,” Which was all I managed to say, seeing I couldn’t make my throat work. I had never seen where my dad lived. Whenever I had asked he only told me about the weather, which I had long ago decided he was obsessed with. Not too hot. Not too cold, and a lot rainier than Nevada.

My old pink cell in my pocket went off. A both jazzy and tinkling tune called ‘Bossa.’

It would be an understatement to say I felt out of place when I stepped onto the red Persian rug in the foyer. Everything was made out of dark wood and out-of-a-magazine/movie décor, fit for a princess or freaking Jane Austin herself.

And then here I was, dressed in my favorite pair of ratty jeans and a Pikachu shirt.

The blue bossa ringtone went off again.

“It should just be up here,” he said, starting up the stairs. “I picked the room with a turret and lots of windows. And you came just in time for Autumn! You’re going to love the colors, they’re spectacular!”

“So you’ve told me.” Like a million, bajillion times.

“Denise should be home soon, so you just tell her what you like to eat and she’ll fix it up for you.”

I froze, foot above a step. “You’re married?” I hated the way my stomach jerk-twisted at that thought. So what if my dad was married? It wasn’t like he told me anything, like that he lived in a freaking mansion.

He seemed to flinch too. “No! No no, she’s the cook. When I get busy I can forget, and she came highly recommended. Had her for a few years now.”

Well, jee, I’m sorry. If I had known I just had to look in the weekly cover of ‘Richest Damn People In America,’ to get updates on my father, I would have.

Another ring of blue Bossa. Dad finally took notice.

“Someone trying to get a hold of you?”

“It’s just a text.” And with a bit of warmth to my cheeks, I slipped it out and turned it down to vibrated. I didn’t have to look to know from whom the ten unread texts had come from.

The phone gave my butt cheek a massage with texts all the way up to my room, which was at the end of an equally lavished hall with warm yellow wallpaper and paintings. I almost asked, ‘who’s your decorator?’ But I knew I wouldn’t be able to say it without sounding just a tiny bit sarcastic.

Sarcasm was the reason he left my mom, after all.

“Here we are.”

I thought I had gotten over my shock in the driveway. Apparently, my dad still had more in store.

My room had been painted a soft lavender and was as big as the living room back home with my mom. A full-size bed that screamed for someone to bellyflop on it was against the far left wall, surrounded by silver and lavender curtains with green trim. On the right side, one corner rounded into a turret and filled with huge, vintage looking windows. The sunshine outside glimmered off of a T.V. and what looked like to be a PS3 and Nintendo Wii. An empty bookshelf, with only a three or four games, stood besides the entertainment center.

My dad gestured to it, looking awkward even as he did so. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I figured we could, um, go shopping together some time and pick them out. I put some of my favorites there for you to try. Your mother also tells me you like books so we can go get some as well, that is, if none of the books in the library satisfy you, though I don’t think you’d be much into business manuals. I guess you can say I just like textbook stuff.” He waited, looking at me nervously. “Did I miss anything?”

“Miss anything?” I said faintly. From the small crystal chandelier on the ceiling to the green velvet Lovesac in the corner (which I remembered being at least $1,000 in the mall), what I couldn’t believe was that all of this could be mine.

And yet I could only think of the miniscule room I had back home, which I had shared with two of my sisters, one half, the other step, and where there was only enough room to walk to the closet and beds. Though I wanted to scream, ‘where have you freaking been all my life!’ I earnestly, and as inoffensively as I could, said, “Dad, you didn’t have to do this. This is more than enough.”

He gave me a weak smile. I saw his ears perk up with it and move wrinkles up the sides of his forehead. He had dirty blond hair, like me. “Don’t say that, or I won’t have any excuse to take you out.”

“Why would you need an excuse?” Is that why you stopped taking me out after I was ten? Because you ran out of excuses?

“Because I got too much work, and I want to be able to tell my clients to bug off for a bit without feeling guilty. Besides, video games are awesome, and one of these days I’m going to take you to this Mexican joint next to the college.” He put on a comical look of bliss. “Mm, mm! Good stuff. And the lady there, my friend, she escaped a drug cartel and has the craziest stories, really makes you grateful for what you have.”

Dad had a lot of friends. Though, it wasn’t hard to get Dad to call you his friend, if my memory served me right. You just had to listen to him talk and then be from out of the country or some other weirdness when you talked back. I wondered if I had stopped being interesting, like mom. “I’ll take your word for it. Mind if I unpack?”

He looked way too relieved when I said that. “Go right ahead, though I need you to try on that uniform in the closet before dinner. They want a response by tonight on whether it fits or not.”

With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving me to my lavished corner of his castle. For a full five minutes I just stood there, breathing, smelling the faint fragrance in the air. The carpet beneath me felt squishy and thick, and I took off my shoes to feel it.

Then I tipped my head back and started to cry.

Because back home in Nevada I had been terrified to ask for lunch money from my parents because of the screaming fights that would ensue. Even now my stomach grumbled from a week of stale bread and cereal. But my dad… he had had this waiting for me all along and then had the gall to pretend that we were best friends.

Biting my lip to try and get a hold of myself, I took out my old pink flip phone. It had been my mom’s phone, and when she got an upgrade she gave this one to me. I flicked it open and felt the pressure squeezing out the tears from my eyes increase and the cramping in my chest grow.

They were all from him. Just as I knew they would be.

I forced myself to drop the phone onto the carpet, where the vibrations would be muffled, and yet still heard. I hated myself for not being able to just turn the damn thing off.

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