Saturday: December 4th, 2015

The house was in an uproar when I got up on Saturday morning. Hunter was screaming bloody murder and Amelia was squealing at Clare and my dad to play ponies with her. The pair of adults were frantic, unsure who to give their attention to.

"Everything okay?" I asked as I walked into the living room.

"Hunter has a fever and won't settle," dad explained. "We're trying to put the nappy bag together so that we can take him to the doctor's but Amelia has gone and hidden the stroller cover and won't stop changing the topic to her ponies whenever we ask where she put it."

Great... so I will be alone again.

"I did not!" the four-year-old huffed. "I did not do anything." Her arms grumpily crossed over her chest. Then she turned to me. "Tell them Zawa. I didn't do anything."

Crouching down to her height, I replied, "I believe you. But do you maybe know where they put it last?"

Grinning at me for trusting her, she bobbed her head up and down then put her tiny hand in mine, pulling me to the cupboard under the stairway. Prying open the door, she moved a couple of boxes out of the way and dragged out the cover.

As her back was turned, my eyes narrowed at her knowledge of the very specific whereabouts. Nonetheless, I grabbed the cover from the kid and headed back to dad and Clare, handing it over to them.

"Thanks, poppet," dad said. Back straightening, he glanced at me, alarmed. "Sorry, that slipped."

Heaving a sigh, I said, "You get five poppets a day. No more though."

Dad smiled at me, then turned his attention to the little girl still gripping onto my hand. "Now little Miss, you need to get ready."

"No. I don't want to go. I want to stay here with my ponies."

"Amelia. This is no time for your tantrums. Your brother is sick."

"No!" she screamed in an ear-splitting tone, stomping her foot repeatedly.

Crouching down to her height once more, I turned Amelia to face me. "You could bring your ponies." Because apparently I was the only one in this house she wanted to listen to right now.

The tears and snot were starting to make their way down her face now. "I don't want to go, Zawa."

"But Hunter really needs to see a doctor. You want him to get better, don't you?"

She shook her head. "I liked it when he wasn't around."

"Amelia!" Clare and my dad scolded at the same time.

I did my best to suppress my smirk, a little bit ashamed that I shared similar sentiments with a four-year-old. Nonetheless, as much as I wished Hunter never came into the picture, he was here now. And I didn't want him to suffer or die just because I don't like him. Technically the baby did nothing wrong.

"Can you come wif us Zawa?" she asked.

"That's too many people for the doctor's waiting room," I replied, wiping away her tears but steering clear from the snot.

"I won't go if you won't go." She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

Craning my head to dad, I said, "Want to leave her here with me?"

"We couldn't possibly make you watch her, Zara," Clare interrupted. "We will carry her kicking and screaming if we must."

Shaking my head, I replied, "Really. It's okay. I can watch her for a couple of hours."

"We don't know how long it will take to get in, poppet," dad then said. "We don't have an appointment, and walk-ins can sometimes take hours."

"That's okay. She will need to nap at some point. Otherwise, just keep your phone off silent so that I can call for help if I need it."

Dad and Clare shared a glance, but then dad turned to me. "Are you sure?"

I nodded in response, turning back to the four-year-old who was now grinning at the idea of spending time with me. "What do you say, Amelia? Want to hang out with me this morning?"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she squealed in delight as she jumped up and down on the spot.

Sighing, dad replied, "Very well. But Amelia," he crouched to her height, "You be on your best behaviour for Zara. If you're not, there will be consequences. I will tell Santa if you've been naughty, which may mean no new toys. Do you understand?"

Eyes wide in fear, she nodded vigorously. The threat was very real.

So dad and Clare finished packing the final things into the stroller and headed off to the doctor's. Leaving me alone with the kid on the living room floor, playing ponies.

∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ 

Watching Amelia was not as bad as dad feared. For the most part, she behaved exceptionally well for me. She used her manners when asking for a specific pony that was by my foot. She thanked me for making her a toastie for lunch. And then she cuddled into my lap as we watched a Disney movie after that.

Surprisingly, she was my favourite person in this household at the moment.

It was hard to not melt at the dimpled smile and tiny pearlescent teeth that beamed at me nearly every waking minute.

I had been fully prepared to hate her.

But the reality was, we related to each other so much. Both of us had a parent who replaced us with a new kid. Both of us unwarrantedly despised said baby. Both of us missed being our parent's only child.

I never thought I'd share such a connection with a four-year-old. But here I was, enjoying that she had taken so kindly to me. Thriving in the fact that I was not alone in my feelings. And she had to live with them all day in and day out. Meanwhile, at the beginning of next year, I got to leave it all behind and forget about the family that existed without me.

∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ 

Hunter returned to the house much calmer than he left, now with some recommended medication to control the fever. It was one of those 'ride it out' situations apparently. Dad and Clare thanked me profusely, but I took their presence at home to retreat to my room for a while—a delightful break from Amelia's high energy, which I now deemed their problem.

I spent most of my afternoon binge-watching anime, then proceeded downstairs to join dad and his family for dinner. Clare invited me to a movie afterwards—one that was Amelia-friendly—in the living room, but I politely declined. I had had enough of children's movies for the day.

Retreating upstairs, I resumed my anime (I know... hypocritical that I would watch one cartoon and not the other) and let the time tick by.

Yet at 7pm, my phone began ringing.

Brows furrowing at the British number I did not recognise, I hesitantly answered with a, "Hello?"

"Hi... is this Zara?" the male voice replied.

"Yes... who's this?"

"Jasper."

My heart thudded in my chest and I sat up straight, stupidly smoothing down my hair even though he couldn't see me. "Hi, Jas," I said, trying to make my voice sound softer, sweeter...

"What are you doing tonight?" he replied.

"Um... not much," I decided to go with, wondering if he'd think I'm a dork for being into anime. We used to always read manga together when we were little. But did he grow out of that?

"Want to come to a party?" he asked me.

Eyes wide, my heart sped up in my chest. My instincts were telling me to say no. I never did parties. I hated the crowds, the music I don't like, and the stench of alcohol. But Rowan's complaints about how I never did anything rang in my ear. I didn't want to be that girl anymore he didn't like. I wanted to be someone he'd miss when I got back. Someone he'd evidently regret letting go. So I said, "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"Great. It starts in an hour. I'll text you the address."

After hanging up the call, I immediately leapt from my bed and dug through my suitcase for anything that was party-appropriate. Most of my winter clothes were mum's, but I hadn't expected I'd be trying to impress anyone—

I stood up straight, hands clinging onto the shirt I had picked up. Did I just seriously think I want to impress Jasper? Little, chubby Jas?

Oh, but now he is not chubby, Zara... and he's very, very attractive, my brain shot back.

Shaking my head, I told my inner voice that I couldn't think like that about him. For some reason, his last impression of me was bad. So I couldn't just let myself be wooed by him when I still had to make it up to him for being a shitty friend.

Long-sleeved shirt under a band-tee paired with tights and a pleated skirt, I quickly applied my makeup, styled my hair, and headed down the stairs two at a time.

"I'm going out," I said nonchalantly into the living room as I grabbed my parka off the coat rack and started slipping on my boots.

The TV paused and dad came out, arms crossed over his chest and he looked me up and down. "Where and with whom? You said you don't know anyone here."

"I ran into Jasper yesterday."

"The Asian kid?"

Grimacing at the fact that his race was the identifier for dad, I then nodded.

"That's amazing, poppet... But is this a party?"

"Yes."

"With alcohol?"

Shrugging, I replied, "Probably. I don't drink though."

He shook his head. "Sorry, Zara. But I'm going to have to say no to that one."

Parka now zipped up and shoes firmly tied to my feet, I turned to him, brows furrowing. "Excuse me?"

"While you're in my care under my roof, I call the shots."

"I'm seventeen."

"And you're still not legally an adult."

"I will be in like, three months."

"But that's still three months away. Sorry, Zara, that you went through all this effort to dress up, but I'd be a pretty irresponsible father if I let you run off with some boy to some party where I haven't met anyone."

"You've met Jasper."

"Yes. Before puberty kicked in. Now boys only want one—"

Arms crossing over my chest, I rolled my eyes at him. "Don't even give me that."

Because it was not what all boys wanted. Rowan was assumed to be a womaniser—a boy who expected girls to put out. But we never took it the full way. And he eventually confessed to me he hadn't done it at all before, despite his reputation for having done so. He wanted it to be special for his first time. So it wasn't what all boys wanted. But dad wouldn't understand. Because toxic masculinity was just too rife in his day.

"Besides, who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?" I spat. Uh oh... am I really going there? Now?

"Little Miss, you cannot speak to me like that."

Shifting my weight onto one leg, I popped a hip as my eyes narrowed at him. "If you really cared for being my father and getting a say over my life, you would have called me more than six times over the past six months. You would know I had a boyfriend for two months who dumped me the day before I got here. You would know the last thing I'm going to do is jump at the person who was once my best friend. And you would know that I'm not a person who drinks or normally even goes to parties."

He took a step back at the lashes I was giving him. "I called more than six—"

But I was not ready to let him speak. "You bothered to kick a fuss about how I had to come visit you for Christmas and you have not been home at all. In the evenings, you barely look at me. You go straight to bed. Or you spend time doing things your new family wants to do. You've made no attempt to actually spend time with me despite bringing me all the way over here and ripping me away from my friends and the guy I was dating—who dumped me because I was going to be gone for a whole month, by the way." I knew that wasn't the actual reason, but it was the one I was throwing at him now. Because I wanted dad to feel guilty.

"I spent a lot of money getting you here, Zara. I don't appreciate your lack of—"

"I would have preferred you just sent the money. Then I could have gotten a car."

"Zara Fischer. This is enough," he said, tone getting louder.

But before we could say anything more at each other, Clare hesitantly emerged, eyes going between us.

"Chris," she said softly, placing a hand on his arm. "I think you need to trust Zara a little. She's old enough to look after Amelia with no complications. She has her phone on her if anything goes wrong. She's a responsible adult. Have some faith in her."

Meeting Clare's gaze, I could see him caving to her will.

And I hated it.

While I was glad she had come to my aid, I hated that he trusted her word and not mine.

Heaving a sigh, dad turned back to me. "You must text me the moment you get there and the moment you're heading home. And I want you back by eleven. Understood?"

"Not that you'd notice if I'm home then anyway," I mumbled under my breath, picking up my bag and heading out the door before he could scold me for that comment.