I gestured toward the nuts. “I like to feed the squirrel that hangs around my house. I’m fairly sure he’s living in my attic.”
He blinked. “What makes you think he’s living in your attic?”
“There’s a lot of movement in my house at night. I think it’s him.”
At least, I hoped that it was him.
“You should probably get that checked out,” he said as he started backing away. “Take care, Birdee.”
I smiled and waved. “You too, Creed.”
I hadn’t closed the door all the way when I started pulling up Charleigh’s contact in my phone.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked. “How’d the interview go?”
“Fantastic,” I breathed. “But that’s not why I’m calling you. I need you to help me find someone…”
Nine
Deja moo: the feeling that you’ve heard this bullshit before.
—Birdee to Shade
Birdee
It was only seven as I stepped out of my bedroom and headed straight for my bathroom.
Sharing a single bathroom between two bedrooms was okay and all, but it would be nice to be able to step directly into the bathroom from my bedroom like I did at the pool house of my mom and stepdad’s estate.
Though, even that was now tainted as I thought about how naïve I’d been.
I’d purposefully looked the other way, taking the good where I could get it when it came to my mother.
I couldn’t tell you that I’d avoided everything and everyone because if I didn’t, I was reminded of how sucky my life was. So desperate to get out of this place that I’d do just about anything for the chance to run.
My mother dying had been the best thing to ever happen to me.
No longer did I need to escape. I could stay here, make a life, and hopefully never have to worry about awful family situations ever again.
Though, my biological father’s attempt at being a part of my life felt more forced than anything. Almost as if I was a necessary evil that he had to work out of his system to be able to call himself a good man.
Slamming the door extra hard as I got into the bathroom, I frowned when I heard a thud from the other room.
I opened the door and peered out, only to find nothing amiss in the living area.
“Weird,” I muttered as I closed the door behind me again. “My squirrel definitely needs to find a new home.”
I rushed through a shower, washing my hair, shaving my legs, and getting out in record time.
I left my hair soaking wet and immediately started to go through my curly hair routine.
It was something I’d started only recently. Charleigh had shown me how she did her curly hair, and I’d found that I seriously loved the way my hair looked now.
I would never not fix it from this point forward.
I’d been called enough mean names over my frizzy hair—because my mother didn’t believe in products, which had then led to my older self not putting much effort in either—to know that it wasn’t something that I could just let run wild. It needed some attention.
Luckily, my budding friendship with Charleigh had been tentatively strong enough for me to trust her.
