Chapter 68
Braeden nudges Adonis who stares at me blankly.
“Dad, relax,” Octavia soothes. “The vein in your neck is about to burst.”
“Winnie?” Dad starts. “Get your arse in the kitchen so I can yell at you.”
I chuckle nervously. “Yes, ma,am–I mean, sir–I mean, dad.”
I make my way into the kitchen, followed by dad.
“Immature kids and their crushes on hot guys, am I right?” I hear Octavia say to Adonis and Braeden.
“Shut up, dumbass!” I yell.
“Wha–dad!” She whines. “Winnie told me to shut up!”
“I know.” Dad calls back. “Listen to her.”
“What’s up, daddio?” I grin sheepishly.
“I told you to not get any crushes just two hours ago.” He scolds. “And what do you do? You go and
crush on someone.”
“I can’t help it.” I defend myself as Octavia walks in. “Have you seen him? He’s an adonis.”
“That’s literally his name.” He almost shouts. “And stop it. Control your hormones, dammit.”
“I-” I cut myself off, nodding sarcastically. “Okay, dad, let me just call Mother Nature up and tell her
to turn me into a freaking tree. You won’t have to worry about hormones then. You know, apart from
the fact that I’ll have branches that I can use to-”
“Windora Nevaeh, shut up.” He cuts me off. “Go show Adonis around. Bring your sister and leave the doors open.”
“Even when I need to go to the bathroom? Because he’ll get a pretty good view of a few things if I
leave the bathroom door open.”
Dad narrows his eyes at me. “Stop being a smartass.”
“Dad, I don’t know why you bother telling her to stop being a smartass when you know she’s just like
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Chapter 68
mum.” Octavia butts in.
Dad narrows his eyes at her. “Octavia Aroha-”
“Got it. Shutting up now.”
I walk back into the living room to find Adonis and Braeden looking up at the Polaroid style picture of a blue–eyed nineteen year old girl in a sunflower field, the bottom of the picture with words saying, ‘Nevaeh Aroha Carter, The Girl in the Hoodie‘.
“That’s my mum.” I speak up after a moment, making them look at me. “She was nineteen in the picture.”
“Sunflowers were her favourite flowers.” Octavia adds, coming to stand beside me. “Braeden, dad’s
in the kitchen.”
Braeden nods, throwing us a smile before making his way into the kitchen.
“Time for a tour of our humble abode.” I start. “Follow us, Hot Stuff.”
“And this is my room.” I announce as I throw open the door to reveal a room with nice yellow walls.
Octavia had gone back downstairs after we showed him her room.
He follows me in and studies the room. “You play the guitar?”
“No, it’s just there for decoration.” I drone sarcastically.
“Thought so.” He plays along. “You seem like the ‘I pretend to play guitar but in reality, I listen to Air Supply’s greatest hits and cry‘, type of person.”
“Did you just make a joke?” I snap my head to him. “Adonis -I forgot your last name- just made a joke. Oh sweet baby Jesus, I wish I recorded it.”
He rolls his eyes. “Relax, Loca.”
“I am not crazy, asshole.” I pout.
“Right.” He agrees sarcastically before walking out of the room and making his way downstairs.
I roll my eyes. “Fuck you, too.”
Mum would’ve thrown a shoe at dad’s face if he ever called her crazy.
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Chapter 68
Mum.
I slowly make my way to dad’s room, grabbing a photo album labelled ‘Carter‘ from off the shelf on the wall and going back to my room, sitting down on my bed.
I open it up and the first picture I see is of a girl wearing a hoodie, the hood covering most of her
face.
I look through the the whole album before getting to the last page and focusing on four photos.
The first one is of mum holding Octavia and I in the hospital when we were just born. The second one is of her laughing as Octavia and I hug her legs because we didn’t want to go to kindergarten. The third picture is of mum dancing around the kitchen with us, not aware the dad had been awake and watching before he decided to take the picture. The fourth one is of mum hugging us on our seventh birthday as we stood on front of our cake.
She passed away a few months after that.
I bite my lip as I look down at the last photo. I hadn’t realised how exhausted and sick she looked. Her skin is pale and she had dark circles under her eyes.
I close the album, grabbing the stuffed Kiwi toy from next to my pillow and hugging it to my chest.
When we were five, mum had gone down to New Zealand for a week to visit grandma Mila. She had
returned with a Kiwi for me and a bear for Octavia.
I had named my kiwi, ‘Kiwi Fruit‘, and Octavia had named her bear, ‘Mr Bear‘.
We weren’t very creative children.
I miss her so much.
I don’t feel the tears running down my face as I hug Kiwi Fruit tighter.
“Hey, Loca–are you crying?”
