Breaking Free

School the next day is a blur. I didn't get enough sleep to really care about what was going on.

All night my thoughts were dominated by the mysterious, blue eyed boy I met the day before. His velvety voice as he asked if I wanted a ride was almost haunting.

When I closed my eyes, his blue eyes were always there. This caused me to stay awake a lot longer than I really wanted to.

I was amazed that someone had actually spoken to me yesterday. I knew that they might see me a little differently when I wasn't covered up like I always was, but that was not expected at all.

I looked all over for the boy throughout the day, but I never did spot him. For some reason that upset me.

At lunch, I decided to take off my sweatshirt and glasses again and eat lunch at my normal table.

At one point, a girl I had went to school with all of my life and used to be friends with acted like she was going to approach me but seemed to change her mind half way through walking toward me and switched directions quickly and went back to her seat.

I didn't realize how much I had missed out on while I was busy hiding behind the things my father wanted me to.

I was tempted to break my glasses and tell him that I couldn't wear them anymore, but I knew that would result in punishment and that wasn't something that I really wanted.

Living this way was starting to take it's toll on me and I needed to find an escape that didn't cause me to send my father to jail. As mean as he was, I couldn't do that to him.

In history class, we've switched from the Roman Empire to the Emancipation Proclamation. I don't know how those two go together and I don't think the teacher quite got how much she was skipping around the book.

In the book, the definition of emancipation looks just like any other word to me and I pass right over it.

"Now, class, I'd like you to define the words on the first page of the chapter and hand them in at the end of class."

I write 'Emancipation: freeing someone from the control of another; especially a parent's relinquishing authority and control over a minor child'.

There is something about the word that strikes something inside of me, but I can't put my finger on it.

After class, I turn my paper in and head to the bathroom to put my glasses and sweatshirt back on so I can walk out front to meet my dad.

Again, just like the day before he's not sitting there waiting.

"Great," I mutter to myself.

"Something wrong?" a familiar male voice says from behind me.

"My dad isn't here to pick me up again," I say before thinking.

"I can give you a ride," the blue eyed boy from yesterday says.

My heart is in my throat and I have to keep my mouth shut in fear of butterflies escaping from my stomach.

He's spoken more to me than any of my peers had said to me since elementary school in two days.

"Uh, my dad wouldn't like that," I say.

"How about you call him like you did yesterday and see if it's okay?" the boy says with a grin on his face.

"You wouldn't understand, my dad won't let me ride home with you, with anyone," I say and then clamp my hand over my mouth. I wasn't expecting the words to come out of my mouth.

"Oh," the boy says sounding a little disappointed. "My name is Jackson, by the way."

"I'm Lina," I tell him as he holds his hand out to shake mine. I grasp it lightly and there is a feeling of an electrical hum between us. I let go quickly and run the palm of my hand down the leg of my jeans.

I decide to not even call my dad and just walk home because I know it's going to e the same conversation we had the previous day and one we would have many more times after.

Before I start to walk, I take off my sweatshirt and begin the trek that I made the day before. I'm internally cursing my father for not coming to pick me up.

I push the glasses onto the top of my head and throw my backpack straps over my shoulders.

As I'm walking up the street that leads from the school, I hear an engine revving behind me. I turn to look over my shoulder and see a blue Ford F-150 that I didn't recognize.

Upon closer inspection, I see Jackson in the driver's seat smiling at me.

"Get in," he says loudly over the engine.

"I can't," I say.

"Why not?" he questions me his smile not fading.

"My dad," I answer.

"Your dad doesn't have to know," Jackson says, his blue eyes twinkling under the bill of his black baseball cap.

"He knows every step that I make," I say before thinking again.

Word vomit. How horrible it tastes.