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station now and headed home from there.
    Want me to pick up dinner on the way or make something when I get there?
    And a few minutes after those, the news that couldn’t wait until he got home or I answered back.
    I got called in to work tomorrow morning, so gonna have to drop you at the school early. Talk about it when I get home.
    Great. It’s starting again. The same way it was when we lived in Port Hope.
    At least there it was gradual and not right away.
    This blows.
    Moving here was supposed to be different.
    Closing the messages out and ditching the towel for some clean clothes, I head out to the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and grabbing out a soda. Starting to shove the door shut, I remember his text from earlier and grab it before it can completely close. Pulling it all the way open, I scan the contents, seeing the trays at the bottom stocked with vegetables and lifting and opening the freezer door, am greeted by pack after pack of various meats.
    Everything I need to rectify the lunch he made me.
    Homemade dinner it is.
    Popping the can of soda open and taking a long drawn out swallow, I put it down on the table and pick up my phone to text him back.
    Eat here. I’m sick of fast food.
    We moved here three weeks ago and in that time, we’ve tried every available fast food place in the surrounding area.
    Tacos, pizza, chicken. Chinese, Thai and every other country under the sun, you name it, we’ve eaten it, and I’m over it.
    My stomach is definitely going to thank me for this later.
    Taking another swallow of soda, I open the fridge again, pulling out everything I need to make an edible meal, tossing it all on the counter as I go about finding the pans and pots I’m going to need, grabbing my phone when I’ve got it all set up, putting my earbuds in and getting to work preparing it all.
    Placing the meat into the frying pan and placing it on the oven to simmer, I look down at my phone and remembering the last time I actually had it out, I head back into the messages.
    This is probably going to be a long shot, but with an assignment to do and a dad about to go MIA, I’m in need of a distraction, especially one of the musical kind.
    Please let this work.
    Having only been at the school a day, not knowing anyone else and having to work with her in order to get this week’s music assignment done anyway, I give myself the king of all pep talks as I pull up her contact info and text her.
    Staring at the message, deleting more than half before typing it out again, each try looking no better than the one before it, I finally get to a version I can actually stand and hit send before I can back out.
    Hey. My dad’s gotta leave early tomorrow morning, so I was thinking maybe we could get together and start working on our music project. Let me know. :)
    Not wanting to admit how nervous I am about doing it, I put the phone back on the table and turn back to the dinner, but just as I’m about to check on the meat, I hear the vibration as it begins shaking on the table.
    Making sure that everything is going according to plan, the vegetables boiling away in the pot and the meat simmering nicely, I pick up the phone and sure enough, it’s from Emery.
    A girl that my grandpa, had he gotten to meet her, would call an odd bird, but just about the only good part about today.
    And with her response to my text, also the girl that I’m going to be seeing bright and early in the morning.
    You’re on. Is 7 okay?
    Tapping the phone for a few seconds, not wanting to text back too quick and seem too eager, after about a minute, I decide it’s been long enough.
    That and keeping someone waiting annoys me. Who cares how desperate I sound? It’s just Emery.
    She’s more than just Emery and you know it.
    This is not the time for this, even if it is true.
    7 is fine. You mind if I bring my bass?
    Her response is instantaneous.
    I’d be offended if you didn’t, since I’m bringing my own. It plays better than the one in