Zombie Blondes by Brian James

of daylight.
     
    I let the evening air wrap around me, wearing the cold like a protective blanket that keeps me numb to all the broken promises that come off my father’s tongue and drop to the driveway like poison snow.
    “It won’t be for long,” he says. “Maybe ten days. Two weeks tops.”
    The straps slide through my fingers and my bag falls to the concrete as he loads a second overnight bag into the back of our car. When he starts telling me how much we need the opportunity, I pull the wool hat down over my ears. Hardly listening when he tells me the pay is good. Tells me that with this one job, we’ll have enough money to stay here for another few months, as if that’s what I want to hear.
    “You’re leaving me here,” I say in disbelief.
    He finishes arranging his travel bags in the backseat and closes the door. Walks over to me and puts his hands on my shoulders the way he’s done my entire life whenever he’s let me down. “Hannah, you know I wouldn’t if there was any other way,” he says.
    I pull away.
    The dull pain from where I hit my head, once against the ground then once against the lockers, starts to throb. The cold air starts to sting my skinned palms and my eyes grow heavy with the burden of my own rotten luck. In the movies, it never works this way. Whenever anything terriblehappens, the characters are rewarded with something even better afterward. Like if they get robbed then they win the lottery the next day. Or if they get in a bad car accident on the way to the airport, it always turns out that it really saved their lives because the plane they were trying to catch crashed and everyone on board was killed. That kind of stuff never happens to me, though. If something really shitty happens, something just as bad is waiting for me around the next corner. That’s how this day is, my dad waiting for me with the news of his departure as soon as I make it home from the cheerleading tryouts.
    “You promised,” I say quietly.
    He promised no more trips out of town.
    He promised no more leaving me alone.
    No more courier jobs no matter what.
    He swore to me that he’d never do it again after the last time. He knows I hate being left alone. Coming home to an empty house every night gives me the creeps. Sends me into panic attacks at the slightest noise in the middle of the night and I can never sleep until I run around bolting all the windows. It’s bad enough when he’s done it in places where I had a lot of friends, but here I’m truly going to be alone among the ghosts that lie tucked into the hollow houses of Maplecrest.
    “Don’t be like this.” He’s saying it in a soft voice that drifts down the empty street. “It’s hard enough, without . . .”
    “Without what?” I snap. “Without having to think about my feelings?”
    I snatch my backpack up off the ground. Start to stompup the driveway toward our dilapidated brown house with its promise of strange noises and shadows that move beneath the wallpaper to keep me company for two weeks.
    “C’mon, Hannah,” he pleads. His eyes try their best to remind me that we’re a team. The same old silent speech about sacrifices I’ve heard since I was ten years old. “We need this,” he says, the car keys dangling from his fingers like a starting gun wanting to get on the road.
    “Yeah, maybe I need you,” I say, not able to keep my voice from cracking as the syllables slip out through sobs.
    His shoulders sag and his mouth makes an O shape without actually saying it. He’s finally remembering about me. Remembering that he hasn’t even asked yet about my day. After he’d encouraged me all through breakfast, convincing me that it was the best thing to do. That I might make some friends if I participated in the activities that the other kids did. Making me feel like I had a chance and now he’s not even going to stick around long enough to help pick me up.
    “Didn’t go so well, huh?” he asks. Says he’s sorry for not