Could you help to remember a movie with the musical phrase "Lady Luck finally learnt to bake?

Is this any good?

• Lorena, I opened my eyes and looked around me. Something was wrong. My head split in pain as the world spun. Each individual rectangle that covered the walls was doubled on top of itself in my blurred vision. Rectangles. I tried to force myself to focus on an individual rectangle, begging the room to stay still. But the room continued to spin, spiraling into unconscious darkness. … Why can I never finish a stupid Sudoku? I mean, it should have been simple enough, the numbers one through nine in every row, column, and box with no repeats. But it wasn’t simple enough. Nothing ever was in calculus. Especially when you were a junior at sixteen, but that’s what I got for being “smart”. But this had nothing to do with calculus, so why was Mrs. Brassington making us do it? Her distaste for me was almost tangible as she looked down for an awkward moment over my shoulder. Then, in sudden realization of an error unapparent to me, her lips curled into a smile. “You have two three’s in this column.” She coughed, placing a gnarled finger on my paper. Did she ever clip her nails? Her voice was filled with triumph over my failure. Is it legal for a teacher to want you to fail? Ouch. My head was throbbing as I tried to fight my way through the maze of boxes and columns. Finally, the bell rang and released me from my numbered prison. Whoever thought that first period calculus was an ok thing was defiantly on something. I reached into my bag and grabbed an aspirin. It had become a daily post-calculus ritual. I never did think that they did anything, but it was the only help the doctor offered for my headaches. Actually, that trip to the doctor had been the first responsible thing that my dad had done for me sense my moving in with him three weeks ago. He wasn’t the most responsible of men, especially seeing as how he left when I was seven. That was the thing, it hurt bad enough when your dad just up and left, but it was even worse when you could remember the day that he was simply gone. It was one of those things that was hard to forget. What made it even worse was that as much as I loved my mom, I couldn’t stand that she wouldn’t divorce him afterward. She said that she loved him, that she knew he would come back. Well she was right, he did. Not that she was alive to see the day. So there I was, stuck on the outskirts of Denver with first period calculus, a killer headache, and prescription aspirin that did squat. “Lorena?” I cringed. Yet another reason I wasn’t my dad’s biggest fan. Who came up with a name like Lorena? If he was going to go with something long and stuffy that should have died with the corset, couldn’t he have picked something more regal? Like Victoria or Elizabeth? Not that I wanted to be an English queen or anything, but still… Lorena? When I was eleven, I vowed to myself that I would change my name the moment I turned eighteen. But I couldn’t now, Mom had loved it. She said it made me sound intelligent, classy, and confident. I always thought it made me sound like a saint come back from the dead. “Uh, it’s Lorie.” I said, realizing what an awkward pause I had taken while contemplating my passionate dislike for my name. I swallowed the two aspirin dry, put the half-empty bottle back in my bag, and turned around to see who the voice belonged to. Immediately I wished I hadn’t. It was Roman, Roman… well I didn’t know his last name. However, I did know that this was not good and I desperately wanted to walk away. The poor guy had been hitting on me since my first day. Not that he wasn’t cute or anything, I just didn’t like him. He was just too… happy. He always had this goofy smile on his face. Even after first period calculus. Who smiles after first period calculus? On top of that, I think he actually showered in Old Spice. You could smell him from five feet away. I had always thought that Old Spice smelled like the air freshener in the grocery store bathroom in back in Rhode Island. That part of it made me miss my mom and our old apartment even more than I already did. The rest of it just made me nauseous. “I know I know, but I like Lorena. It’s pretty.” His face split open into his ridiculously annoying smile. He pushed his florescent blonde hair out of his face, forcing me to look into his sincere green eyes. Was I missing something? He seemed especially ecstatic today… if that was even possible. “Oh, hey Roman.” Tried to match his excitement and failed pathetically. “What’s up?” and he sounded like he was actually interested. I was so distracted by that smile it took me longer than it should have to respond. He probably thought I was impaired or something. “My head hurts.” Why did I say that? I should have just said fine. It was curt and to the point with little room for comment. I had to suffocate this conversation before it happened. “I know, Mrs. Brassington is killer.” Too late. “Yup.” There, that reply was a lot better than the last one. Hopefully if I stuck with one-word sentences from here on out, he would run out of things to say soon. “So I was wondering,” My whole body tensed at his phrase. Roman couldn’t be asking me out could he? I couldn’t bare the thought of being the one who broke the happy kid. I couldn’t shoot down that innocent face. But there was no way I could last an entire evening with this guy either. I squirmed, an evening with Roman; the thought was painful. What was I going to say? Would he buy it if I to pretended to pass out right here? Wait, then everyone would think that I passed out because I couldn’t believe that he had asked me. I would rather have gone on the date than have every body think that. My mind flashed through images of us having diner, going to a movie movie, bowling… maybe passing out was a good plan. I looked up at Roman ready to hear the unthinkable question. For some reason he looked weird. I starred at his face in confusion. Why did he look so odd? I started to scan from top to bottom, trying to find an abnormality. Finally, I realized that I couldn’t see his teeth and his smile had faded into a grin. That was a first. But why wasn’t he smiling anymore? Then suddenly it dawned on me that he was searching my face, waiting for me to say something. He had already asked me and I didn’t hear him in my plan for escape. “Oh. Um, I’m really sorry Roman but I’m busy that night. I’m gonna have to pass.” I really hoped that he hadn’t said ‘tonight’ or ‘sometime’ because then my reply would have sounded really awkward. I looked into his eyes trying to see if I should have been more harsh instead of making him think that he even had a chance. But he just looked confused. Not hurt confused, but like he really didn’t understand. What an ego. Could he not see that I just wasn’t interested? After a moment of him staring at me, waiting for me to explain or take it back he finally said, “Um… That’s ok. I can just get the notes from Kelsey then. But thanks.” He flashed his pearly whites one more time then walked away. Wait. Notes? Oh no. Had Roman had been absent the day before? I couldn’t remember. I didn’t remember him sitting next to me. But I would usually purposely avoid him. I stood, staring at the place where Roman had been. Why had I been so convinced he was asking me out? Maybe he hadn’t been hitting on me. Maybe he was just nice. Nobody was that nice just to be nice were they? It was strangely quiet. Looking around myself I realized the hall was empty. Had the bell rang? I had been ready to throw myself to the floor to avoid a date I wasn’t even being asked on, when I could have just said I needed to get to class. For a long moment I just let it sink in what a perpetual idiot I was. “Where are you supposed to be?” The voice made me jump, looking toward it’s source there was a teacher standing next to me. Well, I had never seen him before, so I guess I couldn’t have really known he was a teacher. But de didn’t look like a traffic cop so teacher was a safe assumption. “Oh, Mr. Poland’s English. I looked at my watch to see that it was five minutes into the period. “Well, would love to just send you off,” Oh no. Was this guy actually going to do something? Jerk. “but we have rules here, and you are expected to be in class when the bell rings. So as much as I hate to do so, I’m goanna have to have to send you to the DAC.” Oh, the Disciplinary Assessment Center. Great. My first trip to the DAC was going to be for being late because I was dazed by not being asked out by a guy I didn’t like. I’d been hoping for something a little more cavalier. “Ok then.” I laced the words with extra distaste and mal-contempt. I turned and began to walk away, not even sure of where I was going. “Jerk.” “Excuse me?” Was that one out loud? Oops. “I didn’t say anything.” It sounded like a lie, even to me. But I couldn’t look at his face to see if he bought it. Then I suddenly remembered something about not making eye contact giving away that you’re a liar. I immediately looked into his eyes. They were a surprisingly bright hazel. If he wasn’t a teacher, (and a mean one at that) I might have thought he was pretty. “Oh I heard you.” He broke my concentration. I was immediately embarrassed with myself for thinking this man had pretty potential. What was he like thirty? No, he didn’t look that old, but he was a teacher so he couldn’t have been that young. Why did I care? I could already tell that today was going to be a series of perpetually idiotic events. “I guess I’ll be accompanying you on your trip to the DAC.” For some reason I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to ask for directions. Why couldn’t this have happened before calculus? I was missing English, one class I actually liked. I was supposed to give my speech on moral and ethical issues of today’s modern literature. Wait, why couldn’t this have just not happened? Yeah, that was a better wish to be making. Not that it mattered. The DAC was highly misnamed. It was in no way a ‘Center’ of any kind. It was a couple teachers behind a big desk and three folding chairs against the wall. There were also some of those desks with the big walls surrounding them. They always made me feel like I had leprosy or something to deserve that level of quarantine. Mr. … well, he had never said his name now had he? I decided that until I knew, he would be Mr. Hazel. (For Obvious reasons.) Mr. Hazel held out his hand, gesturing for me to go first. Inside the room there were two boys sitting in the folding chairs covered in black board chalk. They both had proud grins on their faces, and I was sure there was a really good story that accompanied them. “Well hello.” Said one of the teachers behind the gargantuan metal desk; she so tiny the thing nearly swallowed her whole. She had seemed really nice until she greeted Mr. Hazel. Her words were too bright and cheery for the situation at hand. It was like she was ridiculously pleased that he had come in with new blood. “Hello Mrs. Hart” Mr. Hazel’s reply was equally as cheery. Was I misunderstanding what DAC stood for? “So what have we here young lady?” She spoke the words as casually as if I come asking for help with my homework. Mr. Hazel told her of our short encounter in the hall, his voice no longer cherry, he sounded really mad actually. I wasn’t that rude was I? I realized that I had called the man a jerk, but I was still taken aback by his aggressive tone. “I see.” Mrs. Hart’s tone was nearly as scary as Mr. Hazel’s. So maybe I didn’t have the meaning of DAC confused. “Well, have a seat and I’ll call you up in a moment to decide what we should do about this.” “Thank you.” Mr. Hazel’s words were curt, and he was out of the room before I could even turn around. I walked over to the folding chairs and took the last empty seat. The chalk-covered boy sitting next to me sent a quick glance in my direction then turned to his friend and whispered. Quiet sinkers followed. “Tony, Michel, here are your passes.” The second teacher held up two pink slips of paper. The two boys looked at each other, took the passes, and were gone. I felt like I was five years old; sitting in chair by myself, waiting to be punished. After a few moments of numbly staring at the floor, my mind began to wander to what my father would say. This was not exactly going to bode well with him. The thought of him being angry with me, acting all parent-like made my blood boil. He can’t suddenly act all responsible, like he had any right at this point. He had missed his chance to be my dad; he didn’t get to start over just because Mom was gone. My eyes began to fill with tears as the rage began to boil over. “All right, come on up.” Mrs. Hart’s voice came from across the room. I stood up and began to walk, but suddenly I was on the floor. I was dazed with confusion and my entire left arm was screaming with the pain of an intense rug-burn. There was something on my legs. When I turned to see what it was, I found that I had taken the folding chair to the ground with me. I sat for a moment in utter shock, what happened? Mrs. Hart was at my side in a flash; her voice filled with appropriate concern. “Honey, are you ok? What happened?” She lifted the chair off of me and held my arm to help me up. “I’m fine.” My voice wasn’t as reassuring and fine as I had wanted it to be. “I guess I just tripped.” Ouch. Now my arm and my head hurt. “Are you sure? … Oh! are you crying?” Oh no. My tears had spilled over. But I was almost relieved that now I had a perfectly good excuse for them, so I played along. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just my arm, but I’ll be ok.” I wiped my face with my good hand. She turned to look at my arm and her face twisted into an expression that had me concerned. “Oh you’re bleeding!” I twisted the back of my arm toward me to get a better look. The rug-burn had broken just enough skin to draw blood from my shoulder to my elbow. It did look kind of gruesome. Looking at the floor at where I had fallen, I could see a long, thin stain from the blood. I held back a chuckle as I thought how badly that stain would scare any first-time DAC’ers in the future. “Let’s get you to the nurse.” Mrs. Hart’s voice had a slight twinge of panic as she led me out into the hall. It was really awkward having a teacher escorting me. Were there always this many people walking around with hall passes? How embarrassing. I could feel my face turn red as we walked into the nurse’s office. I halted in the doorway; Mrs. Hart looked at me with confused eyes, and then pulled me all the way in. Not only was I bleeding allover myself and the floor, and being escorted by a teacher half my size, but who else would be having a chat with the school nurse then Mr. Hazel. He was holding a briefcase and a large coat like he was on his way out. He turned around to see who had entered and his face twisted awkwardly as he tried to hold back an amused smile. An amused smile that would have been far too cruel for the situation. “Gosh Betty, I didn’t want you to beat the poor girl.” His eyes flashed to mine and his smile broke loose. Jerk. “I know, I couldn’t help it.” Mrs. Hart commented sarcastically, she obviously wasn’t nearly as amused as he was. Suddenly my arm twitched under a new wave of pain. Looking to see what has caused it, I found myself staring into Nurse Hamilton’s eyes as she smiled apologetically and motioned for me to follow her into a nearby chair. She grabbed my right hand and placed it up against the toilet paper she had placed over my arm to keep me from bleeding allover her floor and walked across the room to grab some supplies. As I watched her search for whatever it was she wanted, I realized the room was oddly quiet. Mrs. Hart and Mr. Hazel were both staring at me. Mrs. Hart’s eyes were filled with concern as she watched, probably waiting to see my continued tears. I would have cried for her, to convince her that my tears were because of my arm, but no way would I give Mr. Hazel the satisfaction. Looking at him, his eyes were less than concerned, he seemed sickly amused with the irony. I could tell he wasn’t leaving any time soon. I mean, why would he want to miss this? Did I mention this guy was a jerk? Nurse Hamilton returned with a bundle of bandages and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Wait, rubbing alcohol? Maybe I would cry. She pulled away the toilet paper and poured some of the rubbing alcohol onto a large cotton square that she had pulled out of her pile of bandages. She hesitated for a moment, looking at my face. I couldn’t look back, I didn’t want to see her do it. “This is going to sting a little.” A little? That was a cruel understatement. I turned away and closed my eyes. My entire arm contracted painfully as she rubbed the drenched square against the raw skin. It felt like my arm was on fire as she wiped away the blood and grabbed a new square after the first one became soiled. It took her five cotton squares to sufficiently clean the wound. My arm kept slowly oozing blood as she placed a large, thick piece of gauze over my arm and taped over and around it to seal it and secure it to my arm. By the time she was done, my entire upper arm was wrapped in medical tape. The entire time, Mr. Hazel and Mrs. Hart continued to watch in awed silence. When she finished, Nurse Hamilton said goodbye to me and Mrs. Hart and continued her conversation with Mr. Hazel. She never said his name. We got back to the DAC and I followed Mrs. Hart to the giant desk. “Well anyway,” She looked around her desk and tried to regain her disciplinary composure. “I’m goanna assign you three after school detentions to be served whenever you are available over the next two weeks, one Saturday detention which must be served this Saturday from nine to eleven, and thirty demerits. Wow, that seemed like an awful lot for being late to class and calling a teacher a jerk when he deserved it. Didn’t that little trip to the nurse’s office buy me anything? She gave me a slip to give for a “legal guardian” to sign, and a pass to English. All that and I hadn’t even missed an entire class period. I could tell it would be a long day. I walked into Mr. Poland’s room and all eyes were on me including Andréa’s, which was embarrassing because she was standing at the front of the room with a stack of index cards in her hands. Oh no, I had interrupted her speech. I handed my pass to Mr. Poland and made my way to my seat. I had though my embarrassment was over until I heard Mr. Poland’s booming brassy voice behind me. “Oh, someone’s been to the DAC this morning.” A simultaneous oooo filled the room. How annoying. Andréa finished her speech just as the bell rang and I nearly ran to my next class. I figured that with no pass or annoying teacher, no one would know about this morning and I could move on. I walked into economics and took my seat in the back right-hand corner of the room. “What happened to you?” Tyler sat down next to me was staring at my whale of a bandage. Oh yeah, there was that. “Oh. Imaginary date, evil teacher, DAC, and a rug-burn. Long story.” “A Flying-Star kind of day?” My whole body tingled at the thought. “Defiantly.” A bad day was always better after going to Flying-Star, a little café a short walk into town. Whenever either of us was having a major bad day, we would walk down to the Flying-Star, get caramel lattés and a poppy seed bagels, and talk about it. Whoever lost the “my day was the worst ever” bet, had to pay. Unless we were there to celebrate. If that was the case then we would both buy a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and we would split a piece of key-lime pie. “Wow, it must be pretty bad if you’re already that desperate by third period.” Tyler smiled sympathetically, I was feeling better already. Tyler had been my best friend ever sense my first day when I dropped my books in the hall after calculus. Not only did he pick them up for me like a true gentleman, he also managed to get Roman to go away when he came over to see if I was ok and he walked me to all of my classes for the rest of the day and gave me a place to sit at lunch. He did all of this without parading me around like the new girl that I was. Nothing was ever awkward around him, and that first day of school was the first day that he took me to Flying-Star. He was tall enough that he made me feel like a girl when I stood next to him. Normally, I would tower over most everybody else at 5’10”. But he was about 6’2”, making him the perfect height in my book. His hair dark brown like mine, but his was much darker. So much darker that it was commonly mistaken for black, but I liked it how it was because it made his bright blue eyes shine like flood lights. “You don’t even know.” I sighed. He smiled again and I felt like the rest of the day could actually get better. Maybe it had just been a bad morning, that didn’t mean that the entire day had to be bad did it? Mrs. Derik walked in and placed her large grade book on the desk at the front of the room. The book seemed so huge when she was carrying it. The poor woman was only 5’6” in heels, combined her little voice and wild red hair she looked like a nymph. “Ok. Take everything off your desks so we can get started on the test.” The warm feelings Tyler had instilled into me hit the floor and shattered. I had no idea that there was a test today. “When did she say we had a test?!” I whispered in sheer panic to Tyler. “Yesterday at the beginning of class. Why did you think we spent the whole period reviewing?” He was looking at me like I was crazy, but in his voice I could tell he was equally panicked for me. He knew my grade in this class had been taking a nose dive the pass couple of weeks. “I was in the bathroom at the beginning of class! Why didn’t you tell me?” “I honestly thought you knew. Sorry. But hey, you were here for the review yesterday. You should do fine, calm down. Just do your best.” Wow. What an original statement. Besides, had I known that the review was for a test today, I might have paid a lot more attention. “No talking please the test is out.” I turned to face the front and found that the test was already sitting on my desk. I stared at the packet for a few moments, trying to remember what the test was even on. So maybe the whole day would be bad, I mean why would it stop with a trip to the nurse and unjust detention? Well, maybe I deserved the detention, but it was still a major down side. Was there an upside? I tried to think of anything good that had happened that morning; anything good that was going to happen. That just made me even more depressed. Suddenly, my desk shook. I jumped to see that Tyler had kicked the front leg of the desk to get me to start on the test. Oh, the test. I opened the booklet and read the first question… That was the hardest test I had ever taken in my entire life. By the time I finished, my head felt like it was being repeatedly bashed with a baseball bat, a baseball bat that was on fire. Tyler walked me out of the room never once taking his eyes off my face. When I finally looked back at him he looked concerned, that helped to know that he at least actually cared. The entire walk to Physics he never said a word. It was like he was in my head and could tell that the last thing I wanted was to talk right now. He just held the strap of the book bag draped over my shoulder and pulled my through the hall. He plowed through the crowds of talking teens with ease and followed the speed walkers who blazed their own trail through the mess. We walked into physics and looking at the front of the room and Tyler leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Sub today.” I was so glad that he had whispered the phrase; it was like he could see the pain that my head was in by the look on my face. At that thought I realized that he probably could. I consciously relaxed my face muscles which I then realized had been clenched into an uncomfortable frown. Tyler took me to my seat and sat down next to me. That wasn’t his usual seat, but no one ever sat in their normal seat when there was a substitute. I was grateful that Mrs. Wormington was out, because when she was gone she would usually just tell the sub to show us a movie, or give us busywork. Well, I was grateful until the sub started talking. “QUIET DOWN!” Why was the man yelling? Each word he shouted at the class brought my scull that much closer to shattering. “I’M MR. LEE. MRS. WORMINGTON HAS ASKED ME TO SHOW YOU A SHORT FILM AND THEN DISCUSS IT WITH YOU.” Tyler glanced at my and smiled wickedly. Was he laughing? How could he go from being so sweet to being so cruel? I wanted to be irritated but I could see why he would think it was funny. Plus, being irritated hurt my head too much. I reached into my bag and grabbed an aspirin. Tyler rolled his eyes as he watched my swallow the pills. He knew there was no point, but I still had to try. “I’M PASSING OUT A WORKSHEET TO FILL OUT AS YOU WATCH THE FILM. THIS WORKSHEET WILL BE GRADED SO DON’T JUST WRITE WHATEVER.” I think he was talking so loud so that he could hear himself. The guy was pretty old, and I could see that he had hearing aids in both ears. He put the tape into the VCR and I was relived that I wouldn’t have to listen to him yelling anymore. But it turned out that he wanted to hear the movie to. Ouch. The rest of the day was just as bad as the morning had been. After Physics, I managed to trip over myself in the hallway, I had forgotten my lunch and my French homework, I nearly killed a poor kid in my study hall when Mrs. Garrison asked me to pass her the dictionary and I dropped it on his head, and I accidentally sprayed my pants when I stopped at the water fountain. I had spent the last three periods of the day looking like I had peed in my pants. Tyler and I went to Flying-Star and of course, they were out of caramel flavoring and I had to get a vanilla latte. A vanilla latte that Tyler paid for. We talked for about an hour and a half, Tyler made it a little better but I was still raw from the long day. On top of that, my dad wasn’t nearly as good at reading me as Tyler was. He walked me home and I went in through the front door that led into a small family room which was connected to an even smaller kitchen. The kitchen was connected to the living room, which was also connected to the family room. I dropped my bag on the floor even though I knew I had a ridiculous amount of homework. I just needed a little more time to relax off the long day. As I stepped into the living room, I could hear my dad coming down the stairs on the opposite side of the kitchen. “Lorena?” Ugh. I was completely convinced that at this point he was only calling me that to bother me. He knew I hated my name. “Dad. Please call me Lorie.” He walked into the living room and stopped in front of me. He looked like he was surprised to see me. Why would he be surprised to see me? It’s not like anyone else ever came around. “I know. I know. Lorie.” he rolled his eyes as if the sound of the word disgusted him. I walked into the kitchen and sat down. “What time are you leaving for work?” I laid my head on the table and let the cold of the wood seep into my hot, flustered cheek. I had never thought that a table could feel so nice, I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to move from that spot. “In about an hour.” He just stared at me. Couldn’t he tell that I wanted him to go away? How annoying. He was just standing over me, staring down at me. Apparently, he wanted me to say more. “Uh, what’s for dinner?” He frowned as if the question offended him. Well, what did he want? He wanted me to keep talking and I wanted to know what was for dinner. Everybody wins. He sighed and massaged his forehead as if he had forgotten all about dinner. Wow. My dad, who was responsible for taking care of me, for making sure I was ok and fed and stuff, had forgotten about dinner. I blinked a couple of times in bewildered amazement of how completely melodramatic that thought had been. I really needed some sleep. Now. Maybe I would just skip the dinner that dad had forgotten about and just go to bed. Yeah. That though sounded way better than any food would have been. “Uh, you can order some pizza.” Really? Cause after a long, terrible day I really could have gone for some comforting soup. But how could he have known that? Wait, but didn’t I just decide to veto dinner all together? Yep. Sleep was crucial. He rubbed his hands together and blew like he was cold. Was he just being spastic? Cause it was like sixty degrees outside. I mean it was hardly beach going weather but still, in no way hand rubbing temperature. There was a thud upstairs. I looked up instinctively. Everything went still and I looked back to Dad. His eyes were filled with panic, but he kept going as if he had never heard it. “Or, maybe some Chinese if you want.” How could he not have heard that? It sounded like a… did he say Chinese? Egg drop soup, crab rangoon, orange chicken, the thought made my mouth water. “Sure.” I said trying to sound as indifferent as humanly possible. Forget going straight to bed, I was going to have me some Asian cuisine. Now all I needed was my fluffy fleece pajama pants, my orange feather pillow, and the Princess Bride. (Because we all know that it is the movie of every occasion.) I stood up, brushed off my pants, and turned to the stairs on the other side of the kitchen. “What are doing?” He said it so fast it made me jump. “I’m goanna go change.” Since hen did he care? I stared at him for a moment and watched him think of a response. What exactly was his problem today? “Why?” Why? Did my dad just ask me why I was going to change after school? Didn’t I change every day after school? I finally decided that there was defiantly something wrong with him today. “Because I always change after school Dad. What is your problem?” He automatically stood taller like it was an authoritative reflex. It was almost like he wanted to argue with me. This startled me. He was normally so passive. “You’re the one with the problem Lorena. I just wanted to know what you were doing. I don’t think that that’s too much to ask.” He said the words as if he had the right to know everything that I ever did; Like he could just demand anything of me at anytime just because he was my father. I could feel the tears of rage filling my eyes again. “Well I think that you should just back off. I was just going upstairs. It’s not like you’ve ever cared about what I did before.” I laced the words with suggestion. Judging by the look on his face, he could tell that I meant more than just going upstairs. He knew that I was talking about the fact that he left me. That I had spent the last nine years living perfectly fine without him. He slouched slightly; I hadn’t thought that it would hurt him that much. There was another thud at the top of the stairs. The sound made Dad jump and the panic refilled his eyes. Looking toward the sound, there was a figure at the top of the stairs. The figure froze momentarily, and then moved slowly down the stairs. As it stepped into the light, I found myself staring at Mr. Hazel. David, A wave of guilt swept over me. I shouldn’t have knocked her out like that. I stared at her in remorse. She was so beautiful. This was all my fault. The tears rose in my eyes as I softly whispered “I’m sorry.” I finally tore my eyes away and slammed the large metal door. I had to finish this. I bounded down the hall toward the one who started this. I couldn’t let him get away. I didn’t know what I would do when I caught him, but I ran after him anyway. … “Have a good day.” I called after her as she ran out the door to catch the bus. I didn’t think that she had heard me, but it felt good to know that I had at least tried. I stood in silence as I watched her get on the bus. She looked so much like Emma. I took a long breath as the sadness hit. Emma… I missed her more than anything. I watched the bus disappear around the corner and turned toward the kitchen. I had so much to do today, but none of it seemed to matter anymore, I just wanted to stay home. I wanted Lorena to get back from school. I knew that she hated me, not that she didn’t have the right, but it still felt nice to have her around. She was so much like her mom it was uncanny, and I really wanted to make it right with her. I owed her that much. The phone rang and I jumped, suddenly ripped from my day dream. I crossed the kitchen and picked up the receiver. “Hello.” My voice cracked. “David?” The other voice didn’t sound familiar at all, but he obviously knew who I was so I played along. “Hey.” “It’s been too long my friend. I know your daughter Katrina was moving in with you and everything but I didn’t know that you were disappearing all together.” “Lorena.” I said it more sharply than I meant to. “What?” The guy on the other end seemed put out. “My daughter’s name is Lorena.” I was more friendly this time. “Oh yeah. Sorry Dave. Well listen,” The gears in my head finally clicked. Only one person ever called me Dave. It was Trevor McLean. I was instantly relieved that I wouldn’t have to ask who I was talking to and I was automatically more interested in what he was saying. “We’ve kind of got a problem. Do you think I could come over?” A problem? We? “Sure. I’m not doing anything today so come whenever.” “Thanks. I’ll be there in like two hours ok?” He sounded worried. That didn’t help. “K. Later.” The other line went dead and I put down the receiver. I stood in the kitchen in silence for longer than I thought possible for me to stand still. What to do now? A problem? I hadn’t talked to Trevor since Lorena had moved in, but still, I had thought everything was fine. What bothered me the most was that he said “we” like it was my problem to. No, it had only been because he wanted me to help him like he had done so many times for me. Like when Emma died, had and I needed money. Emma died. The thought hurt. It was hard to think that she was gone, I had made myself believe that she was off somewhere else like she had always been. That I was only missing her like I always had when she was still around. But denial did nothing for anyone now. What made it even worse was that she didn’t even care to leave me anything. Not that I was that selfish, wanting to benefit from her demise. It was just that she hadn’t even bothered to write a will, she didn’t even bother to make sure that Lorena would be ok. It was like she was punishing me from beyond the grave, like she wanted me to pay for what had done. If only she knew how badly I wanted to hold her all those years. If only it would have mattered if she did. The door bell rand and I jumped. Hadn’t he said he would be coming in two hours? I looked at the clock to see it was almost ten o’clock. So much for getting anything done. “Come on in Trev!” I shouted unmoving. The door opened and a cold gust of air blew through the house. I heard the door slam and the sound of Trevor’s clunky boots echoed through the hall. “Dave?” He walked into the kitchen and looked at me in surprise. “Why are you just sitting there?” I didn’t even know myself. “Oh, um nothing. What’s going on?” He walked around to the other side of the table and sat, laying his briefcase on the floor next to him. He took off his coat and look at me with a frantic expression. “Ok. You remember that money I lent you when Lorena moved in?” Of course I remembered, I needed it so badly and he just gave it to me no problem. “Sure I do. What about it?” Trevor’s face twisted uncomfortably. This worried me more than anything; Trevor was rarely uncomfortable telling me things. “Well, I…” He paused, as if he didn’t want to finish his sentence. He took a deep breath and forced himself to continue. “I need it back.” What? Since when is it ok to ask for a gift back? This was not Trevor. My head throbbed in confusion as I tried to make sense of his request. Looking back at him I could see he was nervously awaiting my response. Maybe he knew how obtuse it sounded. “Why?” Was all I could manage. He frowned uncomfortably and was curt. “I just need it Dave! How hard is that to understand? It’s my money, and I need it!” I was shocked by his sudden outburst. I stared at him. After a few moments the stare melted into a glare. “You know I don’t have it.” His eyes widened in panic, then suddenly narrowed in rage. “What do you mean you don’t have it?!” “What I mean is that I didn’t ask you for money so I could stick it in a jar for a while. It’s gone. Besides, I thought we agreed that I could pay you back in a year.” He sighed, all the rage had faded. He placed his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands. After a minute of watching him shake his head in dismay, I couldn’t stand the confusion any more. “What’s going on Trev?” I tried to sound understanding, but the words sounded as frustrated as I felt. He let his head fall back, then sat up and looked at me. “That wasn’t my money Dave.” My stomach lurched. I swallowed hard, trying to force it back down. Trevor wouldn’t give me money that wasn’t his. Never. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. I took a breath and decided not to freak out and just get some answers. “What are you talking about Trevor?” His face twisted painfully as he tried to think of a way to explain. “I just need the money back.” No way was he going to as me to come up with $12,000 that he gave me in good confidence without giving me an explanation. “K. I’m goanna need you to elaborate.”

• Answer:

  well i read the first 5 paragraphs and it was way good... its way to long for me to read though lol