"Ami! What are you doing? I told you to hurry, right?" Dad shouts from outside the bathroom door. I look up from my perch on the toilet seat. It's 11 in the night, way later than my usual bedtime, but tonight I'm in no mood to sleep.

"Nearly done, Dad," I shout back and put my head back in the book - the Diary of A Young Girl. It's not a good time for tantrums, I know, but I can't help it. Tomorrow I go back to Mum's as Dad heads off to one of his work tours. This, despite promising me we'd spend this holiday together, that's so unfair!

"Hurry. It's been half an hour. I have a plane to catch tomorrow."

"I need more time. It's not coming." I scrunch my face to try to sound genuine. It works. I hear a grunt, then feet shuffle away from my bathroom door. A suitcase flap shuts, a zip gets pulled, and a bag is dragged onto the floor, no doubt to stand it next to the front door ready for tomorrow's departure.

I sigh.

Tomorrow Dad is going to another of those villages. This time it is on the border of Himachal, some ratty place called...Rati...Ratiyaal or something. I heard him this evening talking to someone on the phone, and since then, my mood is off.

Why does he get called away, you ask? It's his work. He is a wildlife scientist. An Archeologist, an expert in tribal culture and practices, blah, blah, blah. I don't understand half of it but he has shelves full of books in his study. He works as a professor at Delhi University and we have this quaint little house in the suburbs where we spend our life peacefully but every now and then he gets called on these mysterious missions that my eleven-year-old head can make neither head nor tail of. People come calling from distant places, seeking his advice on weird things. Werewolves, vampires, ghosts? I roll my eyes. I don't even know what to believe, but Dad obliges them readily, always at their service.

He is so helpful and they take advantage of him. I am 100% sure these villages came into existence solely to take Dad away from me.

I give him a mental middle finger. I ain't going nowhere. This holiday was supposed to be mine and mine alone. Dad has no business shoving me off like this.

So, back to Anne Frank. Where was I? Yes, July 8th, 1942 - Margot had arrived with a message. Otto Frank had received a call-up notice from the SS, and that meant only one thing - the Nazi concentration camp.

I feel bad for Anne. What is it with Dads getting called away when their children need them the most? It feels like a bad omen. I stare at the offending page and mutter a curse under my breath. Fingers crossed, let Dad's mission be somehow canceled.

Don't get me wrong. Dad loves me to bits and I love him too. It's just this to-and-fro between him and Mum that gets on my nerves. They live apart and I split my time between the two. Most of the time I am with Dad, but it's at times like this that he sends me off to Mum.

I huff and put my nose back into the book. To hell with that assignment, to hell with those weird people. They were the ones that drove my parents apart in the first place, and I hate them from the core of my constipated gut.

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Half an hour later, I have done my business, yet I have no wish to go out. Dad has finished packing and is now at the door again.

"Ami...please. I know you are upset, but you have to understand, bacchha. I must go tomorrow. And before that, Shruti is coming to pick you up. We must get ready."

I sigh and shut the book, then shuffle myself back to the wheelchair. The chair squeaks. That's the signal for Dad to come in to help. He wheels me out and comes around to crouch by me.

"Are you okay?"

I gaze at his face. He is the most handsome man I've ever seen. Sitting at my feet, he is still a head and shoulder taller. The grey at his temples sparkles in the bedroom light. There are marks on his face, I don't know from what, but they surely add to his already rugged looks.

My eyes mist. I don't want him to go. I want him here, with me, always!

"Please. Don't leave me, Dad. I don't want to go to Mum's place." Out comes my grievance. My Mum's place is boring. She is a renowned architect and lives in a big bungalow. Her house is always full of people, there are always some or other parties, and her friends give me weird looks.

"Shruti's daughter... so unfortunate!"

"I know...to be saddled with a disabled girl!!"

"That husband of hers... I hear he is a weirdo. She is better off without him. But this girl.."

They think I can't hear, but I always do. I am not witless, you see. Sitting in my chair, in a corner of the drawing-room, I hear their taunts; I see their wandering hands. It scares me to see things no child should see. Those are the times I wish Dad was with me. It's safe with him, here, in this little house.

My fists tighten on the armrests. Dad puts his palm on my cheek.

"Ami? What's the matter?"

"What do you think?" I sniff and push Mum's house out of my mind. That part of my life is beyond repair. I must worry about the present.

"What about our holiday list?" I cross my arms to glare at Dad. We had planned so many things for this holiday - movie nights, trips to the beach, rolling in hot sand with books and popcorn, and guitar lessons... I have the list stuck behind my computer desk. We have only ticked the zoo and the museum so far.

Dad sighs. "I'm sorry, pet, but just this once. I promise I'll be back as soon as I can. And then it will be just you and me."

"Promise?"

"Pinky Promise."

He curls his little finger around mine, then leans to peck my forehead. I smile and savor the moment. It's the only time when I feel the happiest in the world.

*****

It's ten in the morning. We are all packed and ready to go, but we cannot. Mum hasn't yet arrived to pick me up.

"Where are you, Shruti? You promised you'd be here by 10." Dad talks into his phone, trying to keep calm. I watch curiously. This is interesting. If Mum doesn't turn up, Dad will have to cancel his trip, which means I will get my holiday after all! Yay! So curses actually work!

"No, no, no. You promised, Shruti," Dad thunders. "I cannot cancel this trip. And you know I cannot take Ami with me. You must come and get her. That was our deal."

Deal? My brow furrows. What deal is Dad talking about?

"You promised you'll look after Ami when I was away. I know this time it's short notice, but it was our understanding..." He pauses as he realizes me listening. My face must have fallen, as Dad's mirrors mine.

A minute passes in silence as we stare at each other, the phone forgotten. I suddenly wish I wasn't here, that I was not dependent on either of them.

He cuts the call and walks towards me. I roll my chair back.

"You can still try the Home," I suggest, trying not to sound hurt. The Home is an orphanage, a few miles from Mum's house, that doubles as a childcare center during holidays. Children like me are sent there - unwanted children - whose parents have better things to do than spend time with them.

Dad looks stricken. I carry on nonetheless.

"Mum sent me there the last time you were on tour. All they need is a hefty donation, and they wouldn't mind the short notice."

***** *****