"Are you ok?" queried Sully, as Michaela stared unseeingly at the table, her lunch untouched before her, "you like kinda green."
The festive spirit had finally infiltrated the school corridors and all around them, students were chatting excitedly about their plans for the Christmas holidays. Michaela had initially approved of Sully's idea to go ice skating at the weekend, eager to get out into the two feet of powdery snow that had deluged the town overnight and turned the lakes into natural rinks. But as Sully had continued to discuss the finer details of his plan, she had grown quieter, a grimace pulling her brows together.
"My stomach feels weird," she admitted, wrapping her arms around her middle, "kinda squishy."
"Maybe you ate something off," suggested Sully, chewing thoughtfully on his apple.
"Maybe," mused Michaela, "I can't think what though…"
The remainder of her words were abruptly drowned out by the shrill ringing of the bell. With a sigh, she shoved her uneaten sandwich and the can of coke back into her bag.
"You sure you're ok?" asked Sully worriedly as the action of swinging her bag onto her back made Michaela wince, "you could always skip class and go home early?"
"I'm fine," assured Michaela, steeling her features into a grim expression, "I'll see you later."
"Where were you?" began Sully accusingly, rising from his position on the front porch where he had been waiting for the last half an hour, "I've been waiting for you for ages."
"Sorry," offered Michaela quietly, rummaging in her bag for her house keys.
"You went shopping?" continued Sully angrily, spying the brown paper bag clutched in her hand, "you ditched me to go shopping?"
"I didn't ditch you," corrected Michaela, her temper starting to rise as she struggled with the temperamental lock, "I just had something important to do."
"Really?" queried Sully incredulously, folding his arms across his chest, "like what?"
"Forget it," snapped Michaela, finally getting the door open, "you wouldn't understand."
"Just go home, Sully," she finished, inexplicable tears filling her eyes.
"But Michaela…" protested Sully, but the door had already slammed shut.
Michaela didn't wait to hear him curse furiously or storm off down the street. Grabbing the phone off its cradle, she hurtled up the stairs, two at a time. Locking the bathroom door, she slid miserably onto the floor, her fingers shaking as she dialled the familiar number.
"Mom," she croaked out, tears now falling fast on her cheeks as the line connected, "I want to come home."
"Mike? Are you in there?" queried Joseph, tapping low at the door.
"Go away!" came the instant response.
"Your mother called me and told me what happened," he continued gently, "it's ok. I'm a doctor remember? I see this all the time."
"Just leave me alone, ok?" replied Michaela angrily, the horror clearly audible in her voice.
"Michaela," began Joseph after several minutes of tense silence during which the door remained resolutely shut, "maybe you should go home. You're growing up and you need a woman around. Someone you can talk to about these things. I…"
A moment later the door opened.
"You want me to go away?" stammered Michaela, her blood shot eyes widening in dismay.
"Of course I don't," assured Joseph, as he surveyed his daughter's bedraggled appearance and tear stained cheeks, "I love having you here. But maybe it'd be for the best. I mean, I'm no expert on all this girl stuff."
"It's ok, Dad," offered Michaela, averting her eyes to the floor, "I don't mind."
"I just want you to be happy," he added quietly, "and if that means you going off to Boston to be with your mom, then that's fine with me."
"I'm happy here, Dad," replied Michaela, picking nervously at her sleeve, "I don't want to move."
"If you're sure," began Joseph but Michaela quickly nodded her head.
"Well," he continued lightly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, "if you wanna wash up, I've ordered dinner. Chinese sound ok?"
"Sure," agreed Michaela quietly.
"Hey, Dad," she called as Joseph headed off towards the stairs, "do you mind if I ask Sully over? I have some apologising to do."
"The human hoover?" chuckled Joseph, shaking his head wryly and pulling out his cell phone, "We're definitely going to need more food."