Forever Changed

“Junior?” he asked, raising his eyebrow at me.

“Just trying to keep it real,” I teased.

“That’s fine, because we both know I’m all man,” he said, striking a pose.

I couldn’t help but giggle at how ridiculous he looked.

“Anyway…” I said, holding up the drumstick.

“I guess I carry them around because I feel lost without them,” he answered in a more serious tone. “They’re about the only constant thing I have going in my life right now.”

My stomach turned at his words. His honesty was a brutal reminder of what we had both been through, but at the very least, I still had Mom and Megan.

“Besides, the chicks dig ‘em,” he said, trying to lighten the mood back up.

“Do you miss your dad?” I asked out of nowhere.

He looked shocked, and I instantly wanted to retract the words. What the hell was I doing dredging this up?

“Sorry,” I said, looking down at my hands.

“No, it’s cool,” he answered. Then he reached over unexpectedly and grasped my hand in his. The warmth of his hand completely enclosed mine, making my pulse race erratically. “No Kassandra, I don’t miss him. I wish he was the one who had died,” he said intensely.

“You shouldn’t say that,” I said, surprised by his honesty.

“Why? It’s true,” he said, releasing my hand.

“I don’t know. It’s just, he’s your dad. You know, ugh, I don’t know what to say.”

“I get what you’re trying to say, but he’s a drunk and a loser, Kassandra, Plain and simple.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling bad for him. My grief for my father shadowed me every second of everyday, but at least my memories of him were filled with love and guidance.

“Don’t be. You’re loss is greater than mine.”

“That’s why I’m sorry,” I said, reaching out to gently pat his hand that was resting on the back of his seat.

“How do

you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Feel sympathy for me when I don’t deserve it. How can you be so kind and compassionate?”

I snorted in an unladylike manor at his words. “Kind and compassionate? Obviously, you didn’t know me before,” I said, brushing off his ridiculous comment.

“I saw you around school before it happened. I have a pretty good idea of the person you were,” he said.

This was one of those moments where my previous reputation was kind of embarrassing. Not that it should matter if he knew how shallow I had been, but for some reason it did. “So you know I was a bitch,” I said, meeting his eyes.

“I know you hung with a bunch of bitches is all I’m saying.”

“Don’t kid yourself. I was the queen,” I said, a little louder than necessary.

“Just because you hang out with bitches doesn’t make you one,” he said, matching my tone.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, finding it ironic I was trying to convince him of what a bitch I used to be.