Since the funeral, my Dad had taken time off work to look out for me, even more so since it was just us now. Usually, I’d have to go to my school for day camp and then be picked up by my babysitter, Lauren, for the afternoon until five.

But a week before the funeral, Lauren never showed up.

She was really nice to me. She even would read stories or make up her own and act it out. She wanted to be a performer but also seemed to be a bit sad. She always hid it behind her smile, but I could tell. I asked her once if something was wrong, but she said it was nothing. But then, at one point, I heard her mention to my Dad one night: “I wish I could just disappear…”

Two days after she had vanished when the police came by, they talked to my Dad, asking if they saw her on the day she went missing, but he hadn’t. That’s what he said to them. I remember the woman who came with the officer, saying that she was a detective looking into Lauren’s sudden disappearance. When our eyes met, she smiled at me. I could tell it was genuine before going back and talking with my Dad. When they left, he headed to the basement. I’m not allowed down there.

He wasn’t down there for long, coming back up, telling me what we would have for dinner as he headed to the kitchen.

Since then, it’s been a few weeks since our new neighbours moved in across the street from us. I hadn’t heard anything about what happened to Lauren; it was like she vanished in a puff of smoke. Not even her Mom seemed to care.

I looked over at my Dad from the stairs railing and into the kitchen. He hummed and softly sang the song It All Depends On You by Ben Bernie and All The Lads. He only ever sang that for two reasons, the first that he was in a really good mood, or the complete opposite.

It would always be one or the other. Hope he’s never singing it for the other. Never.

“Dad?” I called him from the bottom of the stairs.

He looked at me over his shoulder, a smile on his lips. “Good morning, my Sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”

I nodded and asked. “Did you?”

“Oh, I did. I slept very well.” He would often go for nighttime walks due to being a very light sleeper. He always locked the door when he left, and I was a very, very heavy sleeper.

“You’re not mad?” I asked him.

“Hmm? Mad at what?”

“Mad that I didn’t say anything about meeting with Elain?”

My Dad gave a soft chuckle. “No, of course not. I would never be mad at you. I am a little sad you never told me. But given the recent events that happened, it’s all right. Miss Ortiz is a very kind young woman. I think the two of you will get along well.”

Part of me hoped so.

He then paused in making pancakes. “Sweetie, would you like to come with me to work for a bit? I have a small thing I need to get done.”

“Sure,” I said with a nod. One of the people he worked with I liked and would sometimes be there, so I hoped she would be.

“Wonderful, afterwards we’ll go to the bookstore. How does that sound?”

My expression gave it away. I loved to read books.

He chuckled at my reaction. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says as he puts the last of the pancakes on a plate. “Eat while it’s still hot. We’ll leave shortly after, all right?”

I could only nod as I went to sit down to eat—my father setting out our plates of pancakes before sitting in his seat near me. As I ate, I noticed how he watched me with a smile. A different kind of smile. “Aren’t you hungry, Dad?”

“I’m all right,” he says. “You enjoy it.”

I paused and looked at him with confusion before looking at the food. Did he… do something to it?

There was a moment when nothing happened before he finally took a bite of his own after pouring syrup on it, which set my mind at ease as he said.

“These turned out better than I thought. Is it good?”

I nodded and silently finished my food before asking to be excused to get dressed, which my father allowed as I went to the step stool by the sink to rinse it off before putting my utensils and plate into the dishwasher. My Dad went to clean up all that he had used to make breakfast as I headed upstairs to brush my teeth, get dressed, remove my summer nightgown, and pull out a white summer dress with pink roses. I paused in looking over my small French barrette hairclips to peer out the window seeing Elain. She looked like she was about to go exploring. Briefly, I wondered where she would be going. I hope it would be fun wherever that would be.

“Amalie, are you ready?”

“Yes,” I say as I headed down the stairs where my Dad is waiting for me with a faint smile on his face. As I reached closer, he extended his hand for me to take as he led me out of the house and towards the car.

* * *

The car ride was thirty minutes away from the heart of the city.

Even with it being as early as it was, the streets were packed with cars. I glanced over from the backseat to my Dad, smiling and humming the same song, his index right finger tapping the steering wheel as we crept with traffic since many of the roads were in mid-construction.

Things like this were typical in Toronto, with so many things needing or be improved. Like Union Station. It had been in the works in a modern update for as long as I can remember.

We pulled into the underground parking lot of the radio station my Dad worked at before getting out. Many of the lots were filled with cars; for those who worked days, and nights, there was never a day that I was aware of that had fewer cars than fifty.

The moment he opened the car’s door I stepped out, the smell of car fuel filled my nose; I never like that smell. It made me feel sick. My Dad told me that my reaction was normal since he said that this bothered him because he had an acute sense of smell.

I was happy knowing that it was something that didn’t make me strange. I just wished the kids at my school didn’t make fun of me for it. I wanted to ask about being homeschooled, but given that Dad works full time, doing so would be impossible.

After leaving the parking garage through the elevator, we went up to the sixth floor. My Dad being a radio host for this particular station, I didn’t know the ins and outs of his job. I just knew that it was a job that he did and enjoyed.

He offered his: “Hello, how are you? Wonderful day, isn’t it?” to the people he knew and worked with no matter their work relationship.

As we came close to where he would often work with coworkers, we met with someone who looked to be getting ready to leave.

This person was a woman named Vivian Bone.

She was someone who did the late-night hosts and always seemed to have energy. She didn’t have any kids, but she was always friendly; she’d even look after me a few times when my Dad couldn’t find anyone else since Lauren went missing. Vivian was tall, even taller with her heels; she was even taller than my Dad without her shoes. And she wore bright, colourful clothes that looked good on her with her dark skin and curly black hair that she kept loose and seemed to move and bounce with every step she took. She made me think of those old stories of a woman who was the goddess of the moon. That’s what Vivian made me think of.

“Hey, Al,” Vivian said with a bright, cheery smile. “What brings you around this neck of the woods? I thought you weren’t working today.”

“Good morning, Vivian,” my Dad said with a smile. “I’m not; I only came to collect some documents before taking my little girl to the bookstore afterward.” He indicates to me as I was hidden behind him.

“Oh, Amalie, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” I said. I was used to not being noticed right away, something I kind of preferred. “How are you?”

“I’m good, sweetie, tired, but that goes with the territory when you work late nights as I do. I can hear my bed calling me from a mile away.”

“Then, we won’t keep you from your sleep,” my Dad said. “Sleep well, Ms. Bone.”

“I will,” her smile turned to a look of slight concern. “Oh, and Al. Take your time. There’s no rush to come back. We all know you and your daughter are going through a lot. If you need help, I can always look after Amalie for you for a night or two.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bone. I’ll let you know if I need anything, but for now, we’re okay,” he said as she nodded, then waved to me as we both continued down the hall to his office. Since my Dad was rather renowned for his job, he had a relatively spacious office.

It used to belong to another radio host. One that my Dad used to work with when I was a baby. But, she, Katie Keller, died in a car accident. I was five when it happened, so I don’t know much. What I do know is that it was bad. And painful.

“Give me a few moments,” he said, going through his desk drawers, and putting several papers into his briefcase. As he did so, I wandered a bit in his office. It wasn’t a place I’d generally be in. Several photos of my Dad with people on the far-right side of the room he’s met through his work, like musicians, novelists or even actors.

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My Dad always took a great amount of joy in talking to such creative minds, saying that creativity is key to anything in life, regardless of what you use it for.

I wasn’t sure what he meant by it.

“Here we go,” my Dad said suddenly, drawing my attention from the photos on the wall when he pulled out a file from a file cabinet. Placing three files into his briefcase, noticing me while doing so as his smile became broader. “Ready to see what books we can find?”

“Yes!” I said with a smile. His smile grew slightly as he looked at me before getting up from his seat, taking his briefcase in hand and resting his other hand atop my hand.

“Then let us go, lead the way, My Dear.”

* * *

When we arrived at the bookstore, parking in a spot along the road, my Dad got out first, put some change into the meter, then opened the backseat door for me. When I got out, he closed the door as I fought the urge to run on ahead. I loved bookstores and libraries. The quiet and sense of peace, the smell of the books, being taken away to a distant world through the words on the page were something I always loved.

“Is there anything you’re looking for, Dad?” I asked.

“Nothing in particular, though if there’s anything new for cooking or clothing, I might take a gander. But other than that, no sweetie, we are here for you. With that said, you can only pick out two books. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said with a nod. Two was more than enough. I already had the first book in a trilogy, but the second and third were not there when my Dad bought it for me.

We entered the bookstore as I held my Dad’s hand, always staying close and not getting too ahead, a way to get lost and separated, which always bothered me when I was tiny. Something that remained even now.

I know my Dad would never leave me; he wasn’t Mom. Yet, part of me wondered if I was ever like any of the other kids. Like the ones we passed who screamed at the top of their lungs and begged and balled for some kind of toy, would he have been different?

That thought scares me.

How he looked at those kids compared to me is clear, even with his smile.

Lower than dirt.

That was the look he had in his eyes. Yet, when he looks at me, it’s clear that he loves me. I never want that look to be like with the other kids.

“Here we are,” he says as we reach the second floor of children’s fantasy books. “Do you see anything you might like?”

My eyes scanned the shelves seeing a few I’ve read, and some my Dad has read to me. A bunch that was supposed to be at my age, but I never really liked. I stopped in my tracks when I saw a familiar name. I reached out to take the book in question, only to be shoved by another kid.

“Move stupid!” a boy yelled and grabbed the third book before dashing off.

I fell only to stop when my Dad caught me, realizing that it could have hurt if I had hit the shelf since I would have hit my head.

“Are you okay, Sweetheart?” my Dad asked as I nodded before his gaze shifted to the kid who shoved me.

“Dad?” I spoke, pulling his gaze away from the kid that didn’t know any better.

“Yes?”

I held up the second book. I at least managed to get that one before the kid pushed me. “I have this one. Can we see if we can find some others I might like?”

“You didn’t want to get the third book?”

I smiled. “It’s okay, I know we can always get the third book later. I just wasn’t fast enough. Besides, you said I could get two books. That doesn’t mean I can’t find another.”

His faint smile grew. “Well, if you find a book you like, I can read it to you tonight. How does that sound?”

“Hey!” a piercing screech hit my ears before I had the chance to respond. My Dad and I turned to see the same kid who pushed me, now pointing at us, at me. “That’s MY book! Give it!”

I frowned at the kid. He looked older than me, since he was bigger, but acted younger. He might have been younger, but this book was for kids at a reading level of nine years old. And he wasn’t nine, but then neither was I.

“Tsk,” My head snapped to my Dad, his smile strained, eyes narrowed.

Not good.

“Hey stupid!” the kid shrieked, making my ears ring. “Gimmie’ that book, you stupid bi—” The rest of his words were muffled because my Dad covered my ears so quickly, that I couldn’t hear what the kid was saying. It must have been the bad word that Mrs. Jackson said.

“Excuse me,” my Dad said as he stood to his full height, looking down at the kid who now looked startled, he didn’t expect my Dad to be tall given that I’m, well, not tall. “But you’re the boy who pushed my daughter, rather violently, to get the book to so unjustly stole from her. You did not pick up the second one. She did. This book is not yours.”

The kid stood his ground, brave, if not dumb. “Yes, it is!”

“Oh?” My Dad arched a brow in response almost tauntingly. “Did you buy this book? Because I don’t believe you did, meaning it’s not yours.”

The kid looked from my Dad to me, his face going red, being one of those kinds of kids who always get their way and say, only to scream when they didn’t get what they want. Given how red his face was becoming, and the fact my Dad shielded my ears became a fact when he started screaming. This time, even my Dad’s hands couldn’t block out the sound of him yelling.

“MOMMY!!”

Then a woman came over, with a short-bobbed haircut and very tanned skin. She looked at her kid and then at us.

“You!” she snapped at me. “What did you do to make my sweet baby boy cry?!”

“She took my book!” the kid cried pointing at me. “That stupid girl took my book!”

“Give me that book, you little brat!” The woman marched over, intending to get the book, only to stop when my Dad stepped in the way, keeping me behind him so as not to get the book taken away.

She stopped when seeing my Dad. Her expression turned to one of surprise. Many girls and even boys seemed to act this way when they see my Dad for the first time.

“I do beg your pardon, but your child is wrong. My daughter did not steal this book; she already had it when your boy shoved her out of the way to get the third. If I hadn’t caught her, your boy would have injured her.”

Hearing this seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in. “My sweet little boy would never do that!”

My Dad’s smile twitched; the kid was anything but sweet. That was something we could both agree on. “Madam, I was right beside her when it happened. And I do believe that those watching would be willing to back up my claims that your son did indeed push her out of the way, rather roughly, I might add.”

The woman’s face went red. “Are you accusing my son?!”

“It’s the truth!” I said from behind my Dad, as I now held the book close to my chest. I would have given it to the kid if he asked nicely. “He pushed me to get the last book!”

Her gaze then shot to me. She sneered. A look I’ve seen before from those who never liked being talked back to. “Well, no wonder she fell over so easily! Look how thin she is! You’re clearly underfeeding her if she’s that scrawny. No good father, no matter how handsome, should ever do that! I should call the police or even CPS on you!”

The woman didn’t notice it, but I did. A slight twitch in my Dad’s stance, I glanced up at him, and dread followed in the pit of my stomach.

This was bad. This was very bad.

He was smiling. He was smiling too kindly. But his eyes looked empty. I’ve only ever seen that look once before, with Mom.

“Oh? Do you think that? Madam, you know nothing of my child or me. I cook every meal and do everything a responsible parent should. I’ve also taught my daughter to be respectful to others, regardless of age. More than you ever did with that boy of yours.”

“How Dare You! I raised my son better than anyone else! And I’m a single mother with a full-time job!” she thrust a card in my Dad’s direction, something he took and glanced at with an expression of disinterest as he continued to smile. He didn’t care who she was as he merely put the card in his back pocket.

The woman, clearly offended, was about to shout again, only for a much older woman to shout. “Oh, shut your trap!” I looked at her. She had white hair and a cane as she managed her way over to us. “I’ve been listening to this for long enough. Your brat of a son owes this little lady an apology for the way he shoved her. I saw the whole thing, and if you think it’s still Bull, then we can get security involved to look at the footage.”

The much older woman pointed to a camera above us, as the other woman seemed to back off, about to leave, at least I hoped.

I was hoping that this was finally going to be the end of this, my heart racing, but the pain soon came to my head when that kid yanked my hair as hard as he could, pulling me away from my Dad. I screamed, unable to stop myself, as I dropped the book, trying to pry the other kid’s hands away from my hair.

“Give me the book, you stupid girl!” he bellowed. I saw that he planned to hit me in my struggle, only to stop when my Dad grabbed the boy by the wrist in a firm hold. The boy looked white as a sheet as my Dad’s eyes stared into him in silence. The boy was frozen by it as I could hear my Dad’s hand squeeze the kid’s wrist. My Dad refused to let go until the boy finally let go of my hair. And when he had, my Dad did the same immediately.

I began to cry. Not even the girls in my school pulled my hair. It hurt so much that I couldn’t stop. I no longer thought of the book as my Dad drew me into his arms while I cried in his chest, I wasn’t aware of it at that moment until glancing at a mirror near us and saw his expression, of how he looked to both the kid and his mother. They couldn’t see the lower half of his face as he pressed his mouth to my forehead, but his eyes filled with so much anger. Even when the woman moved to hit my Dad, the moment his gaze went to her, she stopped in her tracks and backed away from him.

I tried to move away, but my Dad’s grip pressing me close was firm. As if his body was going to swallow mine. “Dad…”

“Sir?” my Dad stiffened at another voice, but when looking, we both saw that it was one of the people who worked for the bookstore. The woman offered us both a kind smile. “Are you and your daughter all right?”

* * *

The woman and her kid were taken to a room before being taken away by police. The woman had even thrown something at my Dad, a jar, I think, before trying to run with her son. But people who worked at the store and others stopped her from doing so and kept her locked in a closet until the police took them away. My Dad held me close as I sat on his lap, his hand stroking my hair, his smile faint as he hummed to keep me calm. All the shouting caused people in the store to film it or call the police. It was why they were able to come as fast as they did.

But at this point, I wanted to go home. I know my Dad spoke to the store owner, who kept apologizing for something like this happening. Even saying to pick out whichever books and it would be free. I picked two different ones; I didn’t want to remember that kid when reading. Then something soft and white filled my vision.

The older woman from before now had a soft plushie bunny with creamy-white fur and a gold ribbon tied around its neck, smiling, handing it out to me. I looked to my Dad, who silently nodded before I reached to take it.

“Thank you,” I said almost in a whisper, holding the bunny close. As the woman then sat on the bench near us.

“You must like to read a lot,” she says. “I’ve seen you and your father here rather often. The book you were going to get before that brat and his witch of a mother showed up, have you read the first one?”

“Yes,” I say. “I’ve read it five times now. It’s one of my favourites.”

“Then, don’t you want to get the other two books?”

I shook my head. “Not now… I like the book a lot, but I don’t want to read it after what happened. At least for a while.”

The woman looked from me to my Dad, then asked. “What’s your name, young lady?”

I looked at her with confusion. “Amalie,”

Her smile grew. “Amalie, that’s a charming name.” her gaze went to my Dad. “And you have a wonderful father as well.”

My Dad hugged me closer to him. “Not as charming as her,” he said. Then extended a hand to her. “Alastor Hilmarsson.”

The woman took it. “That’s a charming name too. You both can call me Maggie.”

“It’s nice to meet you, though the circumstances could be better.”

“Because of that horrible woman?” Maggie asked. “Oh, trust me, dear, you haven’t seen her at her worst. She’s always been like that when her husband finally had to courage to divorce her. The poor man was close to ending it because of how she treats people. Her son is no better. Though I did hear the daughter went to live with him, it seems to take after the better genetics in that family. I’ve even gone to her local business, it’s a flower shop, and the turnover for people working there is truly awful. Not to mention how it’s taken care of, it’s a complete fire hazard.”

“Is that so?” I glanced up at my Dad, noticing the slight change in his voice.

“Mom?” a man who looked to be my Dad’s age walked over quickly, a look of worry soon overlapped by one of relief. “I got a call that something happened. You okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine, Ben,” she said as she stood up and turned to look at my Dad and me. “It was nice meeting you both.”

After my Dad and I waved goodbye to Maggie, he then held me close, making me feel safe since I still felt a little scared, his chin resting on top of my head. “Sweetie, when we get home, would you like to sleep with me for the night?”

“Is that okay?” I asked, tilting my head back to look at him as he smiles down at me.

“Of course,” he says as he kisses my forehead. “You deserve a good night’s sleep after everything that’s happened. I’ll be sure to chase those horrid nightmares away.”