Title: Bobby's Daughter

Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize…

Warnings: Nope.

Notes: Sorry for lack of updates!

Enjoy!

The boys had left about an hour ago.

And I was still hiding in my bedroom.

So what? I wasn't going out to meet him. The jerk could come in here for all I cared. Or we might just not talk at all. That'd suit me even better.

Knock, knock.

Great. I just had to think about him and he just had to come running.

"Sydney?" The door creaked open slightly. It was Bobby. "I uh- I just wanted to see if you wanted to watch a movie or do something. A game? Shoots and ladders maybe?"

"Do I look five, Mr. Singer?"

The hurt registered in his eyes and I could tell that he didn't know how to handle the situation. But neither did I.

"Alright then," he continued, "I'll be in the yard working on a customer's car."

Half an hour later, I was going nuts. There was nothing to do in my room and I wasn't about to wander out.

Well, okay, maybe I was.

I headed outside and around back. My… dad… was under a car probably fixing something I couldn't comprehend. "What's wrong with it?" The words came out before my mouth could stop them.

He didn't even flinch, so he must have seen me coming. "I'm not sure. The car bumps a lot after speed bumps. That's what I've been told."

"Struts are shot," I said automatically. My friend who worked on cars back home had just fixed my own car for the exact problem.

Bobby paused before rolling out. "How'd you know that?"

"My car," I said, nodding in the general direction of it, "had the same problem a few weeks ago."

"Hm," he said, standing up, "you'd be a killer hunter."

"I thought you don't want me to be one."

"I don't. And you won't be. But you would be."

"Hm," I said in the same tone as my father.

We were silent for a second as he went about playing with his 'toys' (tools for work) and I leaned against a hood of another car.

"How much you remember about me," Bobby finally asked.

And there wasn't much to tell. "Just when I was eight and you taught me to shoot. And when I was sixteen and you visited for a day – passing through town."

His eyes got a far away look. "Your mom never told you about the day you were born?"

"No," I said, curious. "Why?"

This would be good.

Pop References:

One: Shoots and ladders. Hehehe… awesome game!