J.O.B. Preview Chapter Four Edit!!!

Chapter four

“WHAT?” Stella yelled. She couldn’t believe her own ears. Yawning, she blinked twice, despite the fact that she wanted to keep an angry presence. She couldn’t help it, though. The mornings always left her groggy and tired.

Stella’s dad’s expression didn’t change. He had expected Stella’s reaction. He swept his hand though his messy hair. “I’ve decided I’m going on tour with my band.”

Stella sat down on the couch, stunned. Her dad had started a small band a year ago with some friends. They mostly played songs by the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, and occasionally original pieces. They had one or two CDs, and Stella sometimes made flyers for their gigs. Her dad wasn’t really the rocker type, but he was a pretty good singer. Stella hadn’t expected his band to go that far; usually the band spent rehearsals in the White’s garage, sitting around and drinking Red Bulls.

Stella’s dad sat down next to her. An unusually good-looking guy for someone his age (everyone in the band was in their late forties or early fifties), he had short hair, usually gelled up in spikes. He was always clean-shaven, and had blue eyes, like Stella.

“How could you abandon me?” Stella asked.

“It’s only for a few months,” Dad replied. “Besides, you’ll have Gran and Gramps for company.”

Stella looked over at her grandparents, who were lounging on the leather couch, watching soap operas on the TV and eating grapes. “Yeah, a real joy,” she said sarcastically.

“Come on, Stella. Can’t you learn to live with them?”

“They’re so annoying! Like when Gram moves all of my homework to the counter and never tells me because she forgets. Then I’d get an F on all my work because I don’t know where it is! Also, they always clean out my room, and totally rearrange my stuff. And do you remember the time when I had that important essay due? Grandpa covered it with phone numbers, and scribbled all over it because he thought it was useless!”

Stella looked at her grandparents, who were now shouting at the TV in Italian. Her grandfather had food dribbled over his white shirt, and her grandmother’s hair was flying out of its bun.

Stella remembered one particular night of her childhood, even though it was six years ago. She was eight. Mom had had a fight with Dad. She’d left angrily. Stella remembered finding a note and reading it, as a spark of dread was lighting up in her. “Dear David and Stella, I can’t take it anymore. I’m going somewhere where I can be appreciated. I’ll be back after our tempers cool down.”

Stella was relieved that her mom was only leaving for a short while, but she was still worried. After she had showed the note to her father, Dad got up and made many phone calls. He asked the police to go after her, and he contacted some relatives to see if Stella’s mom was going to visit with them.

Weeks later, the police had found her mom in their car. The car was dented and scratched. The door had broken off, and her mom was bruised from head to toe. Her mother was no longer breathing.

So her grandparents came to live with them and help take care of their only granddaughter. But Stella hadn’t really warmed up to them yet. They, who were her mother’s parents, reminded her too much of….of….Mom….

Plus, they got on her nerves. Stella’s grandfather had been a counselor at a school, the same school where Stella’s grandmother had been principal. They met and fell in love. Now, whenever Stella did the tiniest thing wrong, she would hear a long lecture from her grandparents in their heavily accented English.

“Do you really have to go?” Stella asked Dad sadly.

“Sorry,” was the answer. “This tour can really make or break my music career. Besides, it won’t hurt to have a famous rock star dad, right?” He squeezed Stella’s arm playfully, but Stella pulled away.

“Well, why can’t you think about something other than your career? How about actually spending time with your family?”

“And why can’t you let your poor dad get off the hook once in a while?” Dad said. When Stella didn’t laugh, he sighed.

Stella gave him a hard stare. “I’m almost 14 now, Dad.”

“Well, you’ll always be my little pooky-bear to me.”

Stella groaned and started upstairs. “Wait, Stella!” Dad called. Stella glanced back to see her dad’s pleading look.

“I have to go get ready for school,” she said coldly.

“I just want you to know…I love you, Stella.”

“Whatever.”

She climbed up, and….

“Stella,” her grandfather said gruffly. “I need to have a little talk with you.”

“What is it, Gramps?” Stella said, putting a stony face on. “I have to hurry, or I’ll be late for school.”

“Stella, you need to respect your father. He’s only trying to give you a better life, and this tour certainly means a lot to him.”

Oh boy.

“Stella,” Grandfather said, taking her by the arm, “your father works very hard. You see that roof up over your head?” He pointed up to the ceiling, and Stella nodded. “Your father put that there for you. You see the clothes you’re wearing? Your Daddy bought those for you. You get my point?” Stella nodded again, and he patted her on the back. “Let your father go on the tour. Okay. Good girl, now go.”

Stella went into her bedroom, glad that the lecture was over so quickly.

The door opened after her. “Stella!” It was her dad. “We really need to talk things out.”

Oh, man. Stella felt the waterworks coming. “Out,” she said, pointing towards the door. “Out.” She bit her lip, trying to stop the tears.

“But,” Dad started.

“Get. Out.”

He obeyed.

As soon as he left, Stella collapsed on the floor, trying to muffle her sobs.

She didn’t want her dad to leave. She would miss him. Her body shook as she curled up on her bed. How could Dad leave her here? Couldn’t he at least take her with him?

She dearly wanted to go downstairs and hug him and tell him about the curse, tell him about all she had suffered, make him want to bring her on the tour too.

Stella fingered a small guitar pick, the turquoise color painted in waves and swirls. It had been a gift from Dad. She punched a hole in it and threaded a white ribbon through it. And she placed it over her head. It settled atop her heart.

This made Stella cry even harder. She knew that even if the tour was for a few months, she couldn’t last without her father.

Her mom was already gone. She didn’t want her dad to leave too.

Stella changed into a regular pair of jeans and a T-shirt and slung her backpack over her shoulder.

Stella looked at the easel propped against the wall. The window let in a steady flow of light, and lit up her painting. She looked at it. Should she have given it to her dad? After all that had happened?

Stella studied her painting, the inspiration from art class. She was certain it was her best.

A lone flower curved towards the middle of the art piece. An Angel’s Trumpet. The white petals were tinged with pink; the long stem was a light spring green. Black music notes blossomed out of its center. They streamed out in a diagonal spiral until they blended in with the light clouds of blues and lavenders in the background.

Stella sat down dejectedly.

Was it a right decision to let Dad go on the tour?

Stella plucked a colorful post-it note off the painting. “You are always there for me. That’s why I love you –Stella.”

She had gotten her answer. No.

But then again, as she desperately wanted to believe, maybe it was better if her dad left. Maybe if they grew apart, Stella wouldn’t have any one to love. And if she had no one to love, she would have no one who could hurt her.