1. New Things

First chapter of the book. Karisma is awakened by her mother, but what will she find when she gets up?

     Karisma's alarmed beeped, continuously blaring louder and louder. She grabbed a pillow and smothered it against her ears, praying the boisterous noise would silence itself. The noise didn't subside; rather it got louder than before. She whined, "Shut up! Give me five more minutes!"

     Slamming her hand on the snooze button, the sound stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally," she muttered, settling in for a nap. As she closed her eyes in peace, she heard her door creak open.

     "Honey, you have to get up. That's the fourth time you've hit the snooze button. Come on, get up," her mother coaxed, settling down next to Karisma. She softly rubbed Karisma's arm.

     "I don't want to go to school. It's boring," she complained.

     Her mother patted her leg gently. Her mother leaned forward until she was directly in front of Karisma’s face, whispering, "Too bad."

     Groaning, Karisma sat up, arching her back. "Alright, I'm up," she grumbled, struggling to untangle herself from the sheets. Her mother grinned, holding back her laughter. Getting out of bed seemed more difficult than every this morning for Karisma, but after much frustration, she successfully stood up and began her daily morning routine.

     "What will I wear today?" Karisma thought out loud, browsing through her closet full of mix 'n' match outfits. Clicking her tongue absentmindedly, she settled on her bright blue plaid tunic along with her luminous purple leggings. Deciding that the tunic made her look chunky, she added a thin black belt at her waist.

     The smell of pancakes wafted into her room, luring her to the kitchen. Food had never smelt so amazing, but as Karisma thought about it, they had before the incident. Back before her father left for Iraq, before he had died for his country, he would make the most scrumptious pancakes she would ever taste. Her eyes drooped, disregarding her hopeful thoughts. The thoughts that had always brought along misery and disappointment as their best friends would always return if she let her guard down.

     Clambering down the stairs, her eyes flitted over to the kitchen. A man, slaving himself over the hot stove, was cooking pancakes just like her father had with the “Kiss the Cook” apron tied around his waist. ‘Could it be?’ Karisma hoped. She hesitated for a second, creeping alongside the wall.

     “Do you think she’ll accept this?” her mother wondered.

     “Mira, we’ve been together for how long? She needs to know sooner or later,” the man stated, “We’ll just come right out with it. Unless,” he paused, “you’re ashamed of this little secret we kept from her.”

     Her mother shook her head violently, “No no. You’re right. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Karisma heard the tremor in her mother’s voice. She was afraid, but of what? Karisma couldn’t tell.

     “Good morning, Mom. What’s for breakfast? I smelled pancakes, you evil-doer,” Karisma joked, pretending to be unknowing about the man, “Oh, who’s this?”

     “Honey, this is Jerry, my boyfriend,” her mother introduced, giving Karisma a look of desperation, “We wanted you to meet each other, and he offered to make breakfast this morning.”

     Karisma swallowed her anger and frustration. “Of course. Welcome, Jerry. Mi casa es su casa,” she welcomed, plastering a smile on her face. She looked to her mother, who had smiled in approval, and nodded her head towards the stairs.

    “Jerry, if you’ll excuse us, I have to talk with my mother about a girl issue,” I lied, shrugging innocently. He nodded in return. Karisma wiggled her finger for her mother to follow her. When they were out of earshot, she barked under her breath, “Why did you get a boyfriend and not tell me?”

     “Honey, I was afraid you wouldn’t accept it,” her mother answered coolly.

     “You bet I won’t accept it. What about Dad? Doesn't he matter anymore?”
     “Of course he still matters. “He’s still in my heart. He would want us to move on. After eighteen months, it was time to move on. Nothing can change that.”

     As much as Karisma wanted to argue, deep down she knew her mother was right. There was no way to bring her father back, just memories of him to keep. She sighed in resignation, nodding her head weakly. “Alright, but I should go. I need to talk to Mr. Ojeda about my Spanish homework. It’s a little bit more difficult than I thought it would be. But don’t worry, maybe we can talk tonight?”

     Her mother nodded before scooting Karisma out the door, shouting “Bye! Have a good day at school!”

     Karisma’s only thought was, ‘I will. Cameron will find a way to make my day.’