Page 2 of Disobedient Pawn

“I wish I could say the same,” I said.

“Kayleigh,” my father growled.

I tugged on my arm, and this time, Lawrence let go of my wrist. I glared at the two men.

“Don’t call me that,” I said before stomping to my mum’s coffin and laying my hand on the lid. My Mum always called me Ren. It was my middle name and from the time I was little she told me it meant lotus flower and that I was just as exquisite. She always made me feel special and loved.

Leaning over, I kissed the glossy black top and silently made a promise. I would do what she made me swear to her before she died, and that was to live my life the way I wanted.

Her hand was so frail as it gripped mine. Her soft blue eyes filled with agony as her voice strained.

“Never let anyone hold you back, my beautiful Ren. You’re as unique and exquisite as the flower you’re named for. Let your spirit soar and leave this place. It will only darken your soul.”

“I promise, Mum,” I said and leaned over her body to hug her, but it felt like I was hugging a skeleton. Her body was cool to the touch, and I was terrified to hurt her. “I love you, Mum. I love you so much.”

I tried not to cry in front of her. I never wanted her to feel bad that seeing her sick was ripping my heart out, but I knew she only had a few months left, and each day she slipped away a little more. She hugged me tight, and it was the strongest I’d felt her in so long. My heart lurched in my chest with hope as she held me tight.

Using my bloody finger, I drew a small heart on the coffin. “I’ll think of you every day,” I whispered.

Casting a glare at my father and Mr. Collier, I turned and marched to the awaiting limo. I had no interest in standing there a minute longer with them. I was actively marking the days on a calendar until I could leave my Father behind for good and never look back. I would uphold the promise to my mum if it was the last thing I did.

NOVEMBER 3 - WEDNESDAY 4:25 PM (MDT)

Ren

“I can’t believe you said that to Mr. Collier,” my father complained for the thousandth time as we neared the private airport. And just like all the other times, I ignored him and refused to engage in an argument. I knew that was what he wanted. That was the only way my father and I communicated anymore. I took a new approach, the ‘Don’t say shit approach,’—highly coveted the world over.

We pulled through the gates and drove behind a building toward a black plane. It had a silver emblem on the tail, Mr. Collier’s company logo. It was the same stupid logo I’d seen on the folders my father brought home from the office.

Two limos drove past us in the opposite direction, and I cringed with the thought of spending time on this plane with anyone, let alone Mr. Collier. I didn’t even get a chance to change at the house. My father acted like we were in some race, ordering me to grab my luggage and ushering me back outside. I had to argue just to pee.

The limo came to a stop, and I jumped out before the driver could get the door open. I hated everyone waiting on me. Of course, my father didn’t seem to mind, and I wasn’t surprised seeing him order people around. I grabbed my backpack and followed my father up the stairs to the door of the idling plane. Too bad we weren’t slower. The plane might’ve left us behind instead of taking us to freaking Portland.

What the hell was even in Portland? I knew nothing of the place and couldn’t muster the energy or interest to look it up. I could hear talking before we entered the plane and internally groaned as I spotted a half dozen people. All of them had been at my mum’s service. Great, more of my father’s work friends. Could I just jump out the open plane door now and be left behind? Maybe I would get lucky and break my leg. Then I would need to go to the hospital for a while.

Then again, with my luck, my father would tell the doctor to just patch me up and toss me on the plane the same day. He was borderline obsessive with the move and his devotion to Mr. Collier.

Everyone turned and looked in our direction. Their earlier smiles and laughter were replaced with little frowns and fake hugs of remorse for my father. I walked to the back of the plane, where no one was sitting, and tossed my backpack onto the seat, flopping down to stare out the window.

This was it. I was leaving Alberta for good, or at least until I graduated school, then I didn’t know. Pulling out my cell phone, I brought up my last text from Lizzy.

R: Soooo, I’m on the plane, filled with a bunch of my father’s work friends.

The group laughed, and I could see them opening wine like today was a celebration. It was no celebration, my mum died, and they had no consideration or respect. They were proving my theory that all people sucked.

L: I hate this. I don’t know why your dad couldn’t just leave you here. My mum said she was happy to have you live with us.

R: I don’t know. He’s being a pill and so sus about shit. He never tells me anything about his work, and if I push, he orders me to leave the room. I’m not a little kid. It makes me wonder what he’s doing that’s so terrible.

L: I hate to ask this…but do you think he has a girlfriend or something?

I wrinkled my nose up and glared at my phone. I had my suspicions but no proof, at least not yet. I’d been too nervous to look into it when Mum was alive. I would’ve felt like I had to tell her. Was that really what someone wanted to find out when they were dying? I didn’t think so. Besides, I had too much on the go and couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else.

R: Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know. We argue all the time now. Could you imagine? I’m sure you’d need to bail me out of jail if I found that out.

L: No doubt. Rylan asked about you at school today. He was acting all retriever-like. LOL!

R: Sure, now he asks about me when I’m leaving. That figures. Why are guys so dumb?