Chapter 1

I was in the car with Dad, and I was just thinking... Remembering...

I was sitting in Dad's new Toyota. The new-car smell was annoying me. I had been travelling for nearly nine hours, and I would be in the car for at least half an hour more. Dad drove slowly compared to Mom. Forty-five minutes, then.

I stared out of the window, my head resting on my hand. Trees whizzed past, slightly blurred by the rain. Even at Dad's pace, the trees were moving too fast for me to focus. It was giving me a headache, so I got out my phone. I flipped through ten songs before I found the one I wanted. An upbeat pop song. Just what I needed on a rainy day like this. The music blared through my earphones and drowned out all the other noises.

I only had time to listen to four or five songs before my earphones were yanked out violently. I looked up, and made a face at Dad. "What?" I spat. He cleared his throat, and motioned towards the exit to Rapid City, where we were going. "Do you fancy KFC or McDonalds?" he asked, his eyes firmly fixed on the road. When he and Mom were still together, they always lectured me about road safety. Every time we drove.

The inner me desperately wanted to say yes - scream it. I hadn't been in the USA for over three months, and it would've been a nice thing for me and Dad to do together. But I forced myself to shake my head. "No. Thanks, but I'm not hungry." Dad shrugged, and pulled in at KFC anyway.

We sat at a table by a window. I looked out of it, occasionally taking a sip of my Diet Coke. When I knew Dad was looking elsewhere, I looked over at him. He'd lost some weight while I'd been in Canada. Twenty pounds, maybe. He looked a lot better now. He'd gain it all back if he kept eating that chicken, though.

"Is it nice to be back?" he suddenly asked, breaking the silence. I didn't answer straight away - I was lost in a world where it was okay for me to eat cheeseburgers and pizzas. "I guess so," I answered in the end. "The circumstances could have been better, though."

Dad attempted to speak through a large mouthful of chicken.  He swallowed, then started again. "True. You do know, though, that your mother and I love you the same no matter what, right?" I nodded absentmindedly. Dad belched and I made a face.

"You gonna eat that?" He pointed at the untouched chicken lying on a serviette in front of me. I wrinkled my nose and pushed the chicken towards him.

Dad sighed and muttered something under his breath. I just wiped the grease off of my finger. No way on Earth was I going to have that stuff on me.

Not much more was said until we got back into the car. As he was adjusting the rear-view mirror, Dad casually mentioned the fact that my brother, Taylor, was coming home from college next weekend, to visit. I pretended not to hear him and went back to staring out of the window.

I don't know why I chose not to respond. Dad probably thought the news would make me cheer up a little - after all, Taylor and I had been thick as thieves when we were younger. He got really upset the first time I was sent to a recovery center. He said that I was too smart to do something like that. Obviously not. But ever since then, he had been the typical, overly protective big brother. And that was just weird.

I checked the time - 17:37. We would arrive at Dad's house soon. Dad's home still wasn't home to me. I'd only been there once, but I hadn't been feeling well at the time, so I couldn't remember much.

Home was where Mom baked cookies (and Dad ate them), Dad watched baseball on the flat-screen with his friends, and Taylor and I played on the trampoline.

Mom kept that house, though. Until she moved to Canada to be with Greg. Then she sold it. Now, Dad has an ultra-modern, black-and-white house. Brand new. I didn't like it, it made me feel unwelcome.

I would've stayed with Mom, but I felt like Dad needed someone to talk to. Mom had Greg and all her Canadian friends. Dad had his friends too, but no one to live with him, seeing as Taylor was in college.

Besides, there wouldn't anyone at Mom's house at the moment. Her and Greg left for Italy just after my plane took off. They're going on their honeymoon.

I wished I had been able to go to Mom and Greg's wedding. Unfortunately, I hadn't been allowed out of "treatment". "Recovery". Whatever you want to call it. 

No matter what you call it, it doesn't change the fact that it's extremely overrated and that it doesn't work. At least not for me.

Author's Note

First story! Any faults you guys can help me straighten out?