I shrugged nonchalantly. “My dad's work moves him a lot.”
“Doesn’t he work down at the fishing yard?”
I stiffened and said through gritted teeth. "Yep. I gotta get going. I’ll see you at school on Monday?”
Before I even got a reply, I was out of the car, waving back at him with a smile. He looked confused if a little disgruntled, but waved back nonetheless.
I really would have to come up with a different reason for why we moved a lot. I had forgotten that I told him my dad had always been a fisherman.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I was really messing up with these guys.
Slipping through the cabin door, I stomped to my bedroom. My cot was set up underneath the window. A deep blue sleeping bag lay on top, deflated without a body in it. The muted winters light that streamed through the large window made the room feel relaxing and comfortable.
I made my way over to the cot and slid my hand underneath the sleeping bag to pull out a blue file with the word North written on it.
Pulling off the pen that was attached to it, I opened the file which contained everything I needed to know about Atalanta North: where she went to school during kindergarten, her favorite teacher, pet, subject, what type of movies she liked, the name of her first crush, and the kind of clothes she liked to wear. Her entire life history in a file. We unfortunately had to ignore the last one most of the time, as we weren’t getting enough money in to constantly be swapping out our clothes.
With the pen, I marked down over the minor section of the father's history:
‘Worked as a fisherman whole life. Moved around a lot?’
Closing the file, I slid it back underneath the sleeping bag.
With a sigh, I stared out my window. The day had been a good one. A couple of ups and downs, but overall good. Jason was kind and handsome, and he really seemed to like me, or at least was attracted to me based on what happened earlier.
I suddenly felt the weight of depression lay itself over my shoulders. Why? I didn't know. If I had to guess, it was all of the hidden truths. The beautiful lies we gave to protect ourselves.
I hoped that one day I wouldn't need to lie anymore.
But I was also aware that the sadness also could have just been there, inviting itself into my mind for no reason, as it was with depression. It was best to wait it out sometimes. Perhaps I would go for a walk. Just then, I felt content to simply look out the window and watch the snow drift softly through the trees, the little flakes perching themselves on branches. When I skimmed my eyes to the right, the ocean churned and waved to its own rhythm, separate from the drifting of the snow.
By the time my father and Cal came home, it was sundown and the clouds blocked out any light from the moon or stars. I had sat there the whole time, my mind slowly swaying back and forth like the ocean. Moments of mindless bliss turned into stormy dark thoughts before diving back into nothing as I stared out that window.
I could hear them talking as they brought groceries and whatnot back and forth into the house. I could help them, but I honestly just felt like staying in my room.
I missed my books.
They were my constant. The stories written in their pages never changing, always revealing their characters souls open for me to escape into, to occupy my restless mind.
At the sound of a knock at my door, I turned my eyes away from the window to see my father. His eyes were scrunched to reveal the laugh lines of his age as his mouth spread into a smile.
"How's my baby girl doing?” He asked softly.
"A little down," I said honestly. No sense in hiding it from him.
His brow furrowed. “Did your date end badly?"
“No.” I shook my head. “It actually went really well. Jason was amazing. We went ice skating and watched a movie. Besides the fact that he got to know someone who technically wasn't me, it was perfect."
"Oh, honey," He crooned and came over, sitting at the edge of the cot. "It is you. Yes, while some of the facts of your life are different, you're the same woman inside and that's who I'm betting this boy is falling for. The person, not the facts. This Atalanta North might hate pineapple, but I bet she's not funny like you, bet she doesn’t have your tenacity. You brought that to her persona."
I felt tears well up in my eyes. With a sniff I held them back. "I know, Dad."
He leaned over and kissed my forehead. "I love you Bun-Bun. Now, why don't you go on a walk and clear your head. I know that can sometimes make you feel better."
He stood and held out his hand for me.
I took it, letting him help pull me up and guide me towards the door.
Chapter Sixteen
Ajax
The day had been another long one. The mayor had wanted me to try and finish up the mural I had begun on the community center. I don't think he realized how long it was going to take to do the whole building, but I simply let him babble on about it. After that, I helped Mr. Norrison fix the shelves in his house and delivered one of my paintings to a collector in the next town over. Now that it was dark out, I had the chance to head out into the woods by my house and find a good tree to cut up and drag back to use in my next piece.
Who needed sleep when there were things to do?
I yawned as I trekked through the forest, the lantern in my hand swinging gently back and forth.
The crunch of my feet as I broke through the snow and twigs underneath was loud in the quiet crop of trees. I could still hear the ocean’s call not far off. I knew it was a mile and a half to my left, just as I knew every tree in this section of woods. You walk around them long enough like I had, and they started to become familiar.
After several minutes of searching, I found it. A young picea sitchensis, a spruce which had fallen several days before. The woods in this part were too dense, and the roots didn't get the chance to spread wide enough. One hard gust of wind with the cold, wet ground and the poor thing just toppled right over. But it would make for good carving wood.
I put my lantern down near the base of the stump, the light casting odd, mangled shadows all around me. Pulling out the axe from the bag on my back, I got to work stripping sections of it. I knew it was too large to take back all at once, so I mentally broke the tree into manageable parts, and once I cleared away all the smaller branches, I swung my axe high.
Whack!
Whack!
The work was good, it allowed for my mind to be distracted. The people of Argos had been good to me when I hadn't deserved their kindness, and it was only fair that I returned the favor. Which was why this particular piece of wood was going to go to Dorris, who had helped me the other day when I went through an attack.
Whack!
Whack!
Whack!
My mind wandered to the reason for the attack. A girl, or perhaps a woman, had caught me off guard while I had been focused on painting the mural.
Atalanta. Her name was Atalanta. And I had given her chocolates.
When she first approached, her emotions had come crashing down on me like a tidal wave. Fear, pain, confusion, curiosity, sadness, and a distinct pain in my right cheek. Confused, I had dropped my supplies onto the ground below me. When I went down to retrieve them and saw the girl that was causing such strong emotions, I was surprised. She was young, perhaps in her late teens to early twenties, with gorgeous chocolatey skin and short, colorful hair. I felt her pain, both new and old.