Dad Never Acts Right

• Scarlett Nikolouzakis, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2022

“Aaagh!” a girl near me cried out with pain. She collapsed on the floor and I was just about to cross the finish line. My emerald green eyes darted back and forward between the girl and the finish line. I pushed my long ponytail of brown curls over my shoulder, and my long, tanned legs carried me over to the girl.

People started to run past me as I headed to the girl. They looked at her but kept on running. As I knelt down beside her, I could see she was exhausted and was clutching her leg. When she lifted her head, I saw it was Tamara, my neighbour. “Please help me Indiana,” she mumbled, “I hurt my leg.” There were tears in her eyes, but then I remembered what kind of girl she was. Ever since she moved to Melbourne, she has teased and embarrassed me. Never had she done something nice for me. I seriously considered leaving her, but then remembered what kind of girl I was. I was definitely helping her.

“Hurry up! I’m waiting!” she whined impatiently. Stretching out a hand, I pulled Tamara up and carried her to the finish line. Everyone cheered. They were watching? My mum flashed me a wide smile, and Tamara was not happy that people were clapping for me. She sighed and a bunch of adults with medical equipment carried her out. Dad had obviously left. He never stayed for any of my things, and he’s barely home. I’m starting to think he doesn’t really care about me.

I ran to mum's open arms, putting on a fake smile. “Amazing job Indi, honey,” she praised. “We-were is da-ad?” I asked, stammering. My face was now dry of sweat, but a big, fat tear had just rolled down it. “Ummm, he had to work honey. Maybe we’ll see him at home?” mum whispered, unsure. I nodded as we headed home. Tamara was glaring at me.

“Dad!?” I shouted through the deserted house, “you home?” Nothing. I sighed. He probably wouldn’t have listened anyway. I went to my room and flopped on my bed. My eyes started closing, and I let myself sleep. The next morning dad wasn’t home. He wasn’t home Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday… Something was going on. I walked up to mum's room and peered inside. She whimpered softly, crying into her bed. I looked at her, there was a note next to her. That's weird, a note, it must have been written by an old fashioned person because they do know there is such a thing as emailing or texting right? I knocked on mum's door and walked in while she jumped up and mum stuffed the note in the bin. She burst out into tears. “He’s gone!” she cried, “and forever this time!” WHAT!