Elena
My door creaks open after a knock that I didn't answer. "Elena, sweetie, I need to get to work. I made some pancakes and bacon. Your plate is in the microwave," dad tells me.
I still don't answer. My back is facing the bedroom door. I lay here staring out my window at the blue siding of the place that is the home of a boy that I will never understand. The bright sun is covering me with warmth causing my eyes to burn even more. I know they are puffy from crying all night.
There's a soft touch on my shoulder. "Hey kiddo, I'm really sorry for what happened between you and Michael, but perhaps it is for the best," dad soothes. My eyes roll; of course, he'd be a tad happy about it. "Try not to stay in bed all day, okay? I didn't raise no quitter." I know he means it as a joke - he's t
