Mandy and I had done that once, not long after Mom’s death. The memory still clung to me—Mandy’s entry about a new dress, mine about a funeral. I remembered the way her face froze when she finished reading, how awkward silence stretched between us. It was like we lived on different planets. Hers had rainbows, unicorns, and pretty dresses. Mine smelled of damp earth and grief, heavy with loneliness.
Not that it was Mandy’s fault. She just didn’t know. And I was glad she didn’t. Nobody should.
“Kaia?”
I shoved the diary and pens into my desk drawer. “Yeah, we swapped diaries too. I’m ready.”
Sharon chuckled again as I followed her out. She looked relaxed, while every muscle in me tightened at the thought of sitting across from Dr. White.
He was supposed to be one of the best—or so Dad and the framed certificates on his wall claimed. But I didn’t trust him. I wasn’t comfortable spilling my heart to him. Therapy helped some people. Sometimes it even saved lives. It just didn’t helpme.
We got into Sharon’s car. As she pulled onto the road, I fumbled with my phone. The longer she drove, the more determined I became. I set an alarm for twenty minutes and finally eased back against the seat, staring out at the stream of cars headed downtown.
When we arrived, I marched into Dr. White’s office. The receptionist, Anne, glanced up from her magazine and gave me the same polished smile she probably gave everyone. “Kaia. Dr. White will be free in just a moment.”
“Okay,” I said, sinking onto the brown couch.
My alarm went off right on cue. I pulled out my phone. “Sorry,” I said, holding it up. “It’s Dad.”
Anne returned to her magazine as I pressed the phone to my ear. “Dad? What’s wrong? … Oh, I completely forgot. I’m sorry. Sure. I’ll be there right now.”
Ending the fake call, I crossed the reception area to Anne’s desk. “I’m so sorry. Please tell Dr. White I need to cancel. Dad just remembered we have somewhere to be.”
She sighed, lowering the magazine. “All right. But a late cancellation still means you’ll be charged.”
“No problem. See you next week.” I slipped out the door, relief washing over me. I wished I never had to come back—but for now, skipping one session was enough.
When I stepped outside, I felt lighter. I had almost one hour of freedom until Sharon came to pick me up, and I was going to take advantage of every minute.
***
Sharon didn’t suspect a thing. By the time she parked at the office, I was already waiting outside, and on the drive home I answered her usualquestions about therapy with ease. I’d never been a liar, but unless Dad finally listened, I was stuck in sessions I hated—sessions that only made me feel worse.
She left soon after to meet a friend, leaving Dad and me alone for the first time in months. I could keep skipping therapy, but he’d still pay for it, and I’d rather he spent that money on something useful—like a secondhand car. I could drive myself to school, to hip-hop, even to see Asher once racing started at the nearby circuits.
Dad was in his office. The steady tap of his keyboard carried through the closed door as I stood outside, fiddling with the hem of my hoodie. Nobody should be this nervous to talk to their father, but I was. Our conversations were minefields—one wrong step and everything blew up.
I filled my lungs and knocked.
He cleared his throat. Papers shuffled. “Come in.”
The smell of leather and orange cleaner hit me as I entered. Despite the heating, the room felt cold—like us.
“Kaia.” His brows rose. “What is it? I’m busy.”
When wasn’t he busy?
The typing resumed, coiling my insides tight. I forced the words out anyway. “Nothing. I just thought we could talk.”
He glanced up. “Okay, but fast.”
I hated being rushed, but it was this or nothing. “It’s about therapy. It isn’t helping, and I’d rather you didn’t spend so much on something I find—”
“I don’t care what you think about something that’s necessary for you. You’ll keep going.” He frowned at his screen, already done with me. “Anything else?”
My heart plummeted. I should’ve been used to it, but his cold dismissal made me feel small every single time.
“Nothing,” I whispered. “Keep working.”
