“Never go for a fat kid like me? Then why would anyone else!” I blurt out, fighting tears with my anger, crossing my arms firmly over my chest and turning to look out the window.
This holiday isn’t getting off to a good start.
I hear my dad groaning quietly.
“You know that’s not what I meant, Serena. Let’s not start on your weight again, I thought we’d been through all that. You’re not fat and any boy should be glad to have you,” he reminds me. Always the diplomat whenever I start to get down on myself.
“Just not Carter Everett, right?” I ask sarcastically, knowing he’s right.
Why would a guy like him go for me? He could have any woman he wants.
“Let’s start over, huh?” Dad finally asks after an awkward silence. I’m halfway to getting my earbuds out so I can at least pretend I don’t have to listen to him, but I miss times like this with dad.
Like he said, this trip’s supposed to be my belated graduation present. It isn’t fair on him to ruin it before we even get there.
“Sorry dad, you’re right. It’s just a stupid photo anyway… I had it on my phone, telling some kids at college it was my hot uncle. But they only chewed me out about it,” I lie.
Although, being torn to shreds by people at college wasn’t. It’s not something I tell dad about. People can be so cruel, and college was way harder for me than high school ever was.
It was like everyone was from the perfect gene pool, had the trimmest body, and the best of everything else we’re told makes us ‘attractive’.
I’m glad it’s behind me and tell myself I should make more of an effort.
Dad’s paid for all this, as well as taken time off his job that I know hasn’t gone down well with his own boss.
“We’ve got a couple of hours ahead of us, and I’ll see how far we get before putting the chains on,” dad says, letting me know he’s happy to start our little trip over again.
It’s a relief. The last thing I need racing through my mind, parallel to thoughts about Carter, is worrying about my dad.
It is a ski holiday after all, but even I can tell once we get closer to the lodge that the snow is thicker than expected, making the roads nasty real quick.
At the first sign the SUV is drifting once we leave the highway and hit the soft roads, dad announces he’s stopping to put the chains on.
I offer to help, but I know dad loves any chance he gets to play with his off-road gear.
“You stay warm honey, I’ll let you know if I need a hand. It shouldn’t take too long,” he adds, pecking my cheek before he opens his door.
I shrug okay and opt for my earbuds, after all, catching up on a little audiobook and rest my eyes while I feel dad tinkering outside as he fits the chains.
Even with my eyes closed, I can still see Carter, and it doesn’t take long before I have his picture back up on my phone, looking at him dreamily now that I know that dad knows that I have his picture.
He didn’t seem too bothered by it, like I said I’ve had a crush on Carter forever and dad knows me better than anyone.
It wouldn’t take much to tell how I react to the mention of him, or the sight of his picture, which we have quite a few of around the house.
Thank God.
In what feels like not enough time to look at Carter again, dad adjusts the chains and we’re back on the road again.
“Not far now,” he adds, and I can see the glint of excitement and humor in his eyes.
Making me hope like hell he hasn’t set up any ‘romance’ between me and anyone else like he promises he has for his best friend Carter.
“I let Carter know we’re not far off,” Dad says after a while.
I can’t be certain, but when I look at his eyes in the rearview, it’s almost like he’s trying to gauge my reaction whenever he mentions Carter now.
I smile and nod.
Safe enough, I think.
Even though my heart and stomach feel like a damned butterfly farm, those huge things you walk through with a million of them flying all over the place.
Filled with heat too, usually.
Hot.
Sticky heat.
But I think I pass my dad’s eyeball test, with him relaxing into the rest of the drive with confidence now that he has his chains on and those huge fog lights I just know he’s been dying to use all year.
By the time we reach the turnoff to the ‘Ski-daddle’ lodge and hotel, I can hardly see the sign for the snow.
Dad’s GPS which he has running into his own earbuds is the only way we’d know, I’m reckoning.