Hello everyone….some of you may remember me from many moons ago when I was posting as TweetyPie. Unfortunately, my account has been deleted so I have recreated myself!
This is my new story! I hope you enjoy it.
Colorado Springs:
"Mike, come on! We're going to be late!" he yelled up the stairs, before running a hand through his dark, wavy hair. The answering thunder of footsteps made him smile and he waited impatiently for her to appear. She had been up for an hour reading but only when he'd snatched the book out of her hands ten minutes ago and fairly shoved her into the bathroom, had she finally agreed to get dressed for school.
"Oh my god," he groaned, as she stumbled down the stairs, her backpack thudding dully against each step, "your first day at a new school and you look like you've been dragged backwards through a hedge."
"It doesn't look that bad Dad," she retorted, flinging her bag onto the floor and hoisting herself into the chair at the kitchen counter.
"Got a band?" he queried as he retrieved the brush he always kept by the fridge for just such emergencies and started dragging it through the unruly mop now bent over a bowl of very soggy cereal.
"Om ma hamd," came the reply as a slim wrist rose upwards, waving a dark green bobble with half a frog's head on it.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to wear hair bands on your wrist?" he continued disapprovingly as he yanked off the band and proceeded to tie his daughter's long hair into a tidy pony tail, "especially ones with disembodied amphibians on them."
A strangled giggle followed by an audible swallow indicated that breakfast was officially over and grabbing the yellow lunch bag off the counter with one hand, he deftly swept his daughter from her seat to the floor.
"Ok let's get outta here," he said, snatching his jacket off the banister and hurtling towards the front door.
"Damn it," he suddenly cried out, halting mid way across the narrow hallway, "car keys!"
"I got 'em" came a cry from the front yard and with a sigh of relief, he saw her struggling into the front seat of the jeep.
"Back seat Michaela," he called out and as the habitual groan reached his ears, he couldn't help the grin that spread over his face. Turning just in time to see her sneaker clad feet disappear over the passenger head rest, he took a deep breath and slammed the front door shut behind him.
As the bell rang signalling the start of lunch, she released the breath she hadn't realised she had been holding and shoving her pencil case back into her bag, she rose and followed the herd of students towards the cafeteria. She was desperate to escape the stares that had followed her for the best part of the morning and the book she had smuggled to school artfully concealed within her maths book was a sure way to distract herself for a while. Spotting a table with only one other occupant in the corner of the crowded room, she hastened towards it and sat down, deliberately leaving a good number of seats between her and the other student. Pulling out her lunch bag, she couldn't control the rumble that ripped through her stomach. Things had been rushed this morning so the best she could hope for was peanut butter and jelly; even this however, would kill the hunger till she got out of school. Smiling as she contemplated bribing her dad into ordering pizza for dinner as compensation, she pulled it open.
She had always prided herself on being a stoic character, not often prone to what she termed "girly tears." But her intense hunger coupled with the additional stress of the morning had taken its toll on her. Before she could stop them, tears were falling heavy and fast into the empty bag that usually held her sandwiches.
"Hey," said a low voice by her elbow.
"Hi," she replied, hastily wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her knitted jumper before turning towards the voice; even with her slightly blurry vision, she immediately recognised the boy from the other end of the table.
"You forget your lunch?" he asked, nodding towards the empty lunch bag.
"I guess my dad forgot to pack me something," she explained, the tears welling up again at the mere thought of surviving the rest of the day on a carton of pineapple juice.
"Well, you can share my lunch," offered the boy with a smile, brushing his long hair impatiently out of his face, "you like chicken?"
"Sure, but what about you?" she queried, eyeing the neatly cut sandwiches with interest.
"I got plenty," he replied, grinning as he followed her gaze, "help yourself."
"I'm Sully by the way," he added, as she grabbed a quarter and bit in hungrily.
"Yeh, Sully the freak!" interjected a jeering voice. A trio of clearly older and rough looking boys had gathered unnoticed before the table and had obviously overheard the conversation that had passed between the two younger students. Before he could react, the ring leader, a stocky youth with wavy brown hair, had lobbed an empty crisp packet at Sully's head and howling with laughter as it made contact with his aim, he led his group swiftly out into the hall.
"Ignore them," he muttered, his hands clenching into tight fists on the table, "they're just a bunch of jerks."
"I know," came the unexpected response, "apparently I'm a freak too cos my eyes are different colours."
Sully turned to see said eyes roll dramatically before his companion continued.
"My dad's a doctor and he explained the whole thing to me. It's called heterochromia and he said I'm actually really lucky cos it's really, really rare."
"Wow," breathed Sully, still examining the different coloured eyes before him, "you sure know a lot about science."
"I love it," she explained, "I want to be a doctor too when I grow up, just like him."
"I'm Michaela," she added.
"Isn't that a boy's name?" queried Sully, his brow furrowing slightly.
"My mom thought I was going to be a boy," giggled Michaela, stabbing the straw into her carton of juice, "and she had the name picked out already. So when I was born, my dad just added the A on to make things easier."
Sully laughed briefly at that before continuing, "How comes you started school late?"
"I just moved here from Boston. My dad got transferred out here and I wanted to come with him."
"Boston, wow," exclaimed Sully.
"I hate it there," replied Michaela with a shrug, "I like it better here with my dad. We get to eat pizza outta the box and watch TV til really late."
"Hey," she added after a moments pause, "you should come over some time after school. My dad could make us pancakes. He definitely owes you one for saving me from starvation."
"Ok sure," agreed Sully with a grin, just as the bell rang shrilly.
"I got it," said Michaela, grabbing both lunch bags and handing him his before shoving her own back into her backpack.
"Come on," urged Sully and pushing her playfully in front of him, the two pelted towards the cafeteria door.
"Mike, you gunna eat that?" he queried, eyeing the last piece of now stone cold pizza speculatively.
"I'm thinking about it," replied Michaela, drawing her blanket covered knees up towards her chest. The two of them were squished together on the couch, sharing the old tartan throw that had been purchased when she was born and was, despite the numerous holes and suspicious stains, just warm enough to ward off the chill that inevitably accompanied autumn in Colorado.
"I'll play you for it, Miss Quinn," he suggested, a sly smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"You're on, Dr Quinn," she instantly retorted, her eyes lighting up as she shifted to face her opponent.
"Ladies first," he said with a laugh.
"Ok," began Michaela, her brow furrowing in concentration, "longest river in the world?"
"Losing your touch are we Mike," he teased, "that was almost ridiculously simple….the Nile."
Feigning horror as she blithely stuck out her tongue, he chuckled before continuing, "Number of ounces in a pound?"
"You are so stuck in the dark ages Dad," replied Michaela, rolling her eyes before answering, "Sixteen."
"Fastest land mammal?" she shot back almost instantly, fixing him with a determined gaze.
"Cheetah," he replied easily, a wicked gleam creeping into his eyes as he posed his winning question.
"Number of lumbar vertebrae?"
"Hey, that's cheating!" exclaimed Michaela, folding her arms in indignation.
"Says who?" he chortled, reaching out to claim his prize from the coffee table.
"Five."
Turning around in sheer astonishment, he gaped at his daughter, the piece of pizza wilting in his hand. Michaela raised one eyebrow, trying to maintain a superior, mildly amused expression but before long the giggles broke free from her control.
"You asked me that last week," she choked out between guffaws.
"And I'll take that," she added, whipping the trophy from her father's slack fingers and swiftly demolishing it.
Visibly relaxing, he pulled his daughter into the warm circle of his embrace and lovingly kissed the top of her head. Her quick mind and charming wit never ceased to amaze him. For several minutes, they sat contentedly, her head resting in its customary position against his chest. The silence was not oppressive; their natures were too alike for that. In fact, it proved quite calming and after a few moments, he felt brave enough to tackle the subject he had been postponing bringing up all day.
"I spoke to your mom today," he began quietly.
She instantly stiffened in his embrace and he rubbed her arms reassuringly.
"She just wants to know how you're doing, what your new school is like."
When the small body in his arms failed to volunteer a response, he sighed before adding, "She's worried about you."
"No she isn't," interjected Michaela suddenly, a bitter undertone to her voice, "she never liked me as much as Marjorie. I was never pretty enough, or smart enough. I was always getting into trouble. A big embarrassment in front of all her friends."
"Michaela," he interrupted severely, turning her around so that he could meet her narrowed eyes, "stop being so ridiculous. She is your mother and she loves you, she always has. The only reason she let you come here with me in the first place is because she wants you to be happy, and she could see Boston didn't agree with you. So give her a chance ok?"
"And besides," he continued, as the eyes before him fell to examining a large hole in the blanket, "the Christmas party when you decided to give the dog a haircut and parade him around the living room in front of all my colleagues was pretty embarrassing and as I recall, I yelled at you much more that evening than your mom did."
"That was brilliant," giggled Michaela, her eyes sparkling at the memory before conceding, "I'll send her an email before bed, I promise."
"Make that tomorrow," he corrected, glancing at the clock, "cos its way past your bedtime."
"Fine," sighed Michaela, knowing argument was futile. Her dad might be open to discussion on almost every other topic, but he was indomitable when it came to the merits of seven hours of sleep.
"Make sure you brush those teeth really well," he said solemnly to her retreating back, "I wouldn't want the vampires to be denied their snack tonight just cos you decided to pick the garlic dip over the sour cream."
"Sure thing Dad," laughed Michaela, running up the stairs two at a time, "night!"
It was almost an hour later when he finally rose stiffly from his seat and running a hand tiredly across his face, trudged slowly across the hall and up the stairs. A light gleamed on the landing and rolling his eyes in perfect imitation of his daughter, he headed towards her room. Easing the door open, he bit back a laugh at the sight before him. She was fast asleep, curled up on her side as was her habit. One hand clutched the blue duvet securely under her chin whilst the other rested on the spine of the book she had clearly fallen asleep reading. The light from the bedside lamp burned against the crimson cover, illuminating the title in the darkness.
Bram Stoker's "Dracula".