With an ear-piercing, screech-like sound, kids rush out of classrooms and dash for the halls. I get up out of my chair and almost fall over when I raise my 20-pound backpack to my back. Rowdy students race towards the school doors in an attempt to be the first ones on the bus.

The halls feel abandoned when I leave my classroom. Late students hurry to not miss the bus. I’m one of the last ones in the otherwise vacant halls. A mix of gloves and pencils lay on the old school flooring that’s tracked with mud. When I walk I almost trip on the pant cuff of my overalls that are too big for my short legs. I head to the school doors and start to wonder what irritating questions my mom will ask me today when I get to the car.

Outside I feel the chilly November air sting my face and hands. Wind pierces the trees, and my puffy ginger hair flies everywhere blocking my view of the seemingly endless line of cars in the pickup lane. I plop my bag on the ground with a “thud” and dig my old green ball cap out of the mound of overdue library books that crowd my bag. Finally, with my vision restored I “sigh” and see my mom’s gray 2013 Toyota Sienna.

The door to the car swings open as I plop into the back seat and push my bag over into the heap of random things next to me. I look at my phone and attempt to ignore my mom and her irritating comments.

“Hey kiddo,” my mom pronounces louder than she needed to, ”how was your day, did you finish your book?”

I slide down in my seat until I can't move my feet forward anymore because of the seat in front of me. “Umm, today was ok, I guess, and I finished my book two days ago, remember?”

“Oh that's right, sorry, it's been a busy week.”

I don't respond.

I look out the window as we pass the elementary school. Kids start to leave the building and walk home with their mom or dad. Then I see a little girl walking with who I guess to be her dad. The dad carries her backpack and they hold hands while talking and laughing. In the back of my head, I try to think of a memory of my dad. My mind draws a blank. A few minutes later my mom starts to talk again.

“So….. how were your friends today, are they good?”

“Yeah, they’re fine, at lunch we were talking about our family trees.”

“That's fun, did you tell them about all your cousins?”

“No,” I say slowly while fidgeting with my seat belt, “they mostly only wanted to know about my dad.”

“Oh, I see,” she paused.

I interrupt “Why don't you tell me anything about him!” I start to get upset.

“It's not important, you were so young.”

“It's important to me, and so young when what! Did he leave? Is he even alive?”

My mom takes a deep breath, I can almost hear her heart beating, she pauses and utters.

“I don't know, one day I woke up and he just wasn't there.”

“Why didn't you tell me this sooner?”

“It's in the past, honey, does it really matter!”