Chapter 5: Body-snatching Alien

BY THE TIME I got downstairs, Dad had my lunch packed and a box of cereal on the table. You'd think I could make my own lunch by now.

"Hey, Sunshine!" Dad said, looking up from his newspaper and peering over the rims of his glasses.

I was certainly not feeling sunny. First-day-of-school butterflies were swarming in my stomach. I was excited and terrified at the same time. No. Blustery or scattered thunderstorms seemed more appropriate.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Great," I lied, raising my voice an octave. Dad lowered his newspaper, revealing an ugly scratch along his face. The butterflies in my stomach stopped flying and got sick. What kind of freak attacks her dad?

Frowning, I joined him at the table. "Oh man, Dad. I'm sorry about your face." I poured some cereal into the empty bowl set out for me, not feeling hungry but knowing he'd feel better if I ate something.

"What, this ol' thing?" He ran his finger down the ugly scratch. "The guys at work are gonna love it! I'll tell them I was in a bar fight. Yeah, that sounds good."

"Hate to break it to you, but don't guys give each other black eyes and broken noses? Besides, you don't drink. That scratch looks more like you were girl fighting ..."

Dad raised his eyebrows playfully. "You're right," he said, leaning forward. "Go ahead. Punch me in the eye. Make it look good."

I giggled. The butterflies calmed. When I was younger, Dad would wrestle with me in the living room, and I always tried to get him in the eye, not that I ever managed to tag him. I grinned, remembering how much Mom disapproved of our antics, mainly because they weren't very lady-like.

"Hey! You know the rules: no fighting in the house ..." I trailed off. That's exactly what she would have said. Dad froze, just for a second, and I saw the shadows in his eyes. He tried to hide them by tilting away from me, but I'd already seen the pain he usually kept from me.

He cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, yeah ... Uh, I probably don't need to go into the office for a couple of days anyway. I'm supposed to be semi-retired, for Pete's sake. I'll just remind them again. No worries. It will be gone soon enough." He started folding the newspaper.

"Okay," I said, feeling doubtful. But voicing my real thoughts wouldn't make either of us feel better. "You planning to hide out here until then?"

I tried to patch up my blunder, but it wasn't working. I couldn't believe I'd said that. He'd been trying to get me to talk about Mom forever, but the first time I even remotely alluded to her in almost a year ... well, even he wasn't ready. The walls were starting to close in on me, and my breathing picked up.

I had to get out of here before he noticed. As if planned, a car honked outside.

"Yeah, um, I gotta go ..."

Dad grabbed my lunch bag and followed me to the door with a sad frown that tore at my heart.

"No time for breakfast, I guess," he said. "Good thing I packed a little extra in your lunch."

He dropped the sack into my empty backpack, and leaned over to kiss my cheek. Part of me felt guilty for running off. I'd done that a lot lately. The other part refused to deal with thoughts about Mom, especially the effects of her loss on Dad.

I gave him a one-armed squeeze and kissed him back. "Thanks," I whispered, hoping that the scratch would go away fast, not just for him, but for me, too. As I released him, I ran a finger down the length of the pink line. The morning light chose that moment to peek in, and it lit up his skin. I blinked and looked at his scar again. It already seemed to be fading. I laughed silently at my silliness, but it made me feel a little better just the same. I guess you saw what you wanted to see.

"Have a good day, Dad."

"You, too, honey. And good luck. Can't wait to hear how it goes."

He knew how nervous I was for this day, how much I had to make up for my dismal existence last year. I gave him a grateful smile and swung open the door, letting the crisp morning air in. It sent a chill through me and I shivered. For a second, I hesitated, debating on grabbing a jacket, but quickly discarded the idea. I didn't want to delay my exit and I'd be fine once I got to school. The classrooms were always overly warm.

Finally, I was out the door. I took a long, deep, cleansing breath, like they taught in the yoga classes at the rec center, minus the sweeping hands, and headed down our walkway.

A red Mini Cooper convertible with its top down idled at the curb. Ruthie greeted me from the driver's seat, a superstar smile splitting her face. She was one of the few juniors who could drive her friends around. Being held back a year in first grade landed her in my class, which is where our friendship had started. She had earned her license her sophomore year, unlike the rest of the class. Around here, you have to have your license for a full year before you can drive underage passengers. This was the first time she could take me to school with her, and we were both ecstatic.

A wave of envy washed over me. Ruthie's parents were so proud of her for passing all of her driving tests the first time through, they bought her a new car last year. Where was the justice? However, as jealous as I was, I was grateful to have a friend with wheels any time I needed them. I threw my backpack over the seat and climbed in. Ruthie grabbed me in a hug.

"I still can't believe the new you! Where do you have my best friend stashed, you body-snatching alien!" she screamed.