Does it ever drive you crazy just how fast the night changes? Or Congratulations, you won your swim competition! Your whole life is a lie!
It had been a long day. Getting up to go to school to be on the bus for the swim meet at seven am, to the hour and a half bus ride to the other school, to the actual meet. Plus there was hanging out with Rekha and Gwen afterwards and the fun the three of them always had. It almost didnât matter that she had a gold medal around her neck and Coach DuBois had a trophy to go in the case at school. All Kennedy wanted to do was go home, change into pajamas, and sleep through till Monday morning.
Her parents, it seemed, had other plans.
The first floor of the house was quiet when she turned her key and walked in. Too quiet. The stillness that predicts disaster. The stillness that calls for something, anything, to ruin it. Kennedy was instantly on edge. She turned and waved at Gwen so her friend knew she had gotten in okay, before setting her keys in the dish and kicking off her shoes. Something was wrong; Kennedy just didnât know what. It was times like this that she desperately wished Linx was here. Not that she and her sister really got along all that super well, but Dad was always in a better mood when she was home from college. But no luck. To prolong the inevitable, she went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, taking a long drink and walking further in.
She was on the stairs when she heard it, the yelling. Her parents were arguing. That hurt. Kennedy hated when her parents fought, especially because they seemed to do it so rarely. And okay, her dad had always held her at a distance for reasons Kennedy couldnât begin to understand, but she had a good relationship with her mom, and she knew how much her mom loved her dad, so to hear them fight twisted up something inside of her.
Kennedy knew she shouldnât camp out on the stairs and listen, but she couldnât help it. Especially not when she heard her name.
âIâm just saying, it wouldnât have killed you to come to her swim meet today! There were a ton of parents there! And youâre her father, donâ you think sheâd want you there?!â That was her mom, Kennedy could tell because her mom was an emotional angry person, crying when she was angry. Kennedy got it from her.
âAm I, Grace? Am I really? We both know that girl doesnât look a thing like me, doesnât behave a thing like me.â Her dadâs eerily calm voice. Something in his tone, in the words he said, made Kennedyâs blood run cold. What was he saying? Why was he trying to pretend she wasnât his daughter? Sure, she didnât look much like him (or Lincoln, for that matter), and only she had the same red stained hair her mother did, but that didnât make her any less his daughter.
âReally?! Really, Thomas?! You canât say you forgive me for that, for everything that happened, and hold it over my head when it suits you! Either you forgive me for the affair or you donât.â
Affair. Affair. Affair. The word was like a bomb, and the second Kennedy knew she fully processed it, she was going to explode. Her mother had had an affair? When? With who? She wanted to drop the water, to cover her ears and yell, scream and plead with them to stop fighting. She felt so young in this moment, so much younger than she really was.
âIâm doing the best I can. Done the best I can for the past sixteen years. But at least when you look at her, you get know that sheâs yours. I look at her and see a permanent reminder that my wife wanted to have a fling with a rich, married man when I was away on business.â
âIâve said Iâm sorry, Thomas, I donât know what else to say or do. I havenât had any contact with him or the Ford-Clearys since I ended the affair. He doesnât even know about Kennedy. You are her father. Youâve always been her father.â
That was all Kennedy could bear to hear. It was like she was on autopilot, her feet carrying her to her room, pulling out her book bag and a duffel bag, beginning to fill it with clothes and items. Her mother had an affair. Her mother had lied to her for the past sixteen years. Thomas Wilder wasnât her father. It seemed like Thomas Wilder had no interest in being her father. She couldnât say she blamed him. And while that knowledge cut like a knife, the person she couldnât stomach looking at was her mother. This woman who had lied and kept things from her, important things, for her whole entire life and then turned around and claimed to love her? It was too much. She needed to get out. She had no idea where to go.
She knew of the Ford-Clearys. Knew they lived in a little town a few hours away from here. Maybe she could go to them. Maybe they would feel more like a family than the one in broken pieces at her feet. They at least deserved to know about her, right? She could barely think through the pain and turmoil she was feeling. Still, grabbing her phone with shaking fingers, she sent out a text to Gwen, asking her to come back, to take her to the bus station. She knew her friend was going to have questions, concerns, but Kennedy also knew sheâd help her. She shoved clothes and books and stuff into the duffle, very carefully picking up her cassette player and collection of tapes and setting them in a compartment of her backpack, before also grabbing her roller skates. Would she need either? Who knew? But she wanted both. That was the only thought she had as she reached for the stuffed cow on her bed. It had been a birthday present from years ago, from a boy she didnât talk to anymore, not since he had moved away and stopped calling or trying to hang out. Not that she could blame him, she had gotten busy, too. But there was a time when Gwen and Rekha werenât her best friends, but a boy named Paxton, who had become her best friend in first grade and got her a cow stuffed animal for her birthday. She still didnât like sleeping without it.
After all the clothes her duffel could carry were packed, along with the stuff (books and the cassette player and the roller skates and other things she couldnât let go of), in both the duffel and her backpack, she grabbed her math notebook and ripped out a clean page, grabbing a pen off the desk (a mermaid set her parents had gotten for her at the start of the year, when she decided Swimmer and Ariel were what she was going to be) and wrote in shimmering purple ink:
I heard the fight. I canât be here. I canât look at you and not see sixteen years of lies and/or resentment. I have to get out of here. I suddenly feel like Iâm drowning and Iâm not that good of a swimmer. I love you, but I also think I kind of hate you right now. Both of you. I donât know when Iâll be back. Maybe I wonât. I guess this is a dramatic way to announce that Iâm running away. Please donât come looking for me. I wonât come back. Not until Iâm ready. If Iâm ever ready.
-Kennedy
PS: I won my swim meet.
Setting the note on her desk, she took off the gold medal that was still somehow around her neck and set it next to the note. She went to a shoebox that held her birthday and Christmas money in it. There was close to a thousand dollars in it because she had been saving a little bit here and there from each birthday or Christmas, just in case. Well. Now was just in case. It was nowhere near enough, she was aware of that, but it was a good start. She grabbed the cash and shoved it in her wallet before grabbing Dottie the cow and sneaking back out. Her mom was full sobbing now and Kennedy didnât know if it was because she and her dad -Thomas- were still fighting or because they had moved on from the fight and this was them making up. It didnât matter either way, it left her wide open to getting out of the house. She pulled her shoes back on, grabbed her keys out of the dish as if on habit, her mind not stopping to think she might not need them anymore, and slipped outside. Gwen was already there, idling in the drive. Kennedy saw her friend look up from her phone and set it down, and she knew she had been about to text her.
She climbed into the passenger seat, shoving her duffel and backpack at her feet. âKennedy, what the hell?!â Gwen said, her eyes wide, even as she started backing out. âYou were home for twenty minutes and now you look like youâre about to be a teen runaway.â Kennedy held onto Dottie tightly, needing the comfort of the stuffed animal.
âI... I am, Gwen. I canât stay in that house. Not after what just happened.â She felt pale. And cold.
âOkay, then come sleep at my house and we wonât go back until Monday morning for school.â Gwen said, even as Kennedy shook her head.
âJust. Trust me. I have to do this. Iâll explain everything. I just. Canât right now.â Kennedy replied.
By the time they had gotten to the bus station, Gwen had coaxed the story out of her, and was immediately supportive. She even gave her the rest of the allowance her parents gave her for good grades and doing well in swim. It was almost another hundred dollars. They had even managed to google Denton and Lorelai. Her siblings. Half siblings. It didnât make much of difference. It was just that they were so much older than her. Sure, she and Lincoln had an age difference, but these two were even older than Lincoln. Suddenly, uncertainty fluttered in her stomach. But then she thought about going home to her mom and Thomas, and the resolve instantly came back. Gwen managed to find where Denton was staying thanks to a picture on his Instagram that had a theater in the background. Googling the theater brought it up. It felt weird and creepy, but Kennedy knew she had to do this.
Finally, they went up and bought the ticket, Gwen asking for the millionth time if she was sure, Kennedy reassuring her for the millionth time she was. âRekha is going to be so pissed we didnât bring her.â Gwen said.
âSomehow I think youâll find a way to make it up to her.â Kennedy replied, a small smirk teasing her lips. Gwen laughed, before pulling her into a hard, tight hug.
âBe safe, okay? And text me. I donât want to lose you. Besides, I want to hear all about you and your new siblings - especially youâre new sister.â She teased, making a joke. Because thatâs all they could do. If they were one hundred percent sincere, Kennedy knew theyâd both be crying. So she nodded sarcastically.
âOh, for sure. Iâll keep you updated.â She hugged her one last time before turning and buying a ticket, boarding a few moments later. She turned around to see Gwen watching her, making sure she got on the bus safely. She held up her hand in a wave, before climbing onto the late bus, finding a seat and crashing into it. Everything was different now. She knew there was no way it couldnât be. But she was suddenly so tired, so physically and emotionally drained from the day, but she knew she wouldnât sleep. Soon. Sheâd meet her new family soon. She just hoped everything was going to be okay.