Nothing would be alright, not this new house, not this day, and especially not Caleb’s smirking face, until Adrianna rescued her violin from the pits of the U-haul truck. She glared at the orange demon vehicle through the window. “It better be alright,” she mumbled. Of course, when it came down to it, the truck itself wasn’t responsible for the hairpin turns that put the seatbelts to the test. No, that would be Steven’s fault.
Her hands clenched into fists. “Steven!”
Tall and scraggly, with an ugly beard and yellowed teeth, an image of her stepfather appeared in her mind. She pictured a speech bubble above his head, filled with all the different little symbols to censor his natural speech. This man drove the U-Haul. If her violin was hurt, it would be his fault. Anyways, it was because of him that they even had to move in the first place!
She whirled around from the window. She hated this place, this soon-to-be living room, and this awful smell of new carpet. Soon they would have entirely new furniture, and her old life would be completely erased except for one thing. “I want my violin.”
To hold it in her hands would be to hold something familiar. To play it, despite having hands much too large for it now, would be even more wonderful. “Mom!” she hollered, as she stepped into the hallway, “Where is Daddy’s violin?”
The Reveal: Last weeks contributing author was Timothy Fish. Timothy is a frequent commenter on this column We appreciate Timothy's insightful comments and helpful edits. Be sure to stop by his website and say hello.