Page 7 of Wonderstruck

Giving her nothing.

The creaking of hinges stole my attention. BothDaisy and Iwhipped our heads towards it, and my heart dropped when I saw Dad.

He was throwing on his jacket, wrapping it over his shoulders with his car keys wedged between his teeth.Hiseyes were still hollow, like someone else was controlling him. What was left of his dark blonde hair was still messy from where he'd been lay. And I couldn't put into words how much it smelt like he'd bathed in whiskey.

Daisy looked at me for a moment. And in one look, we said everything neither of us wanted to voice.

Is he leaving so soon?Her stare asked.

Looks like it.My shrug and head shake replied.

Then, for a split second, as our eyes fell back onto him, he looked at us, and healmost looked sober. Only for a second. It was that look you do when you remember something you’ve forgotten. Like when you come back from the store and realise you left without getting the one thing you went for in the first place. It was that. Although it hurt, seeing that look.

He forgot we were here. It was written all over his face.

I didn’t so much as let the muscles in my jaw tick when I watched his stare sink before he headed out of the door. I didn’twant him to see how his negligence made me feel.It was too late for him to try to fix anything, and I wasn’t naive enough tobelieve he would.

We’d tried. Daisy had pleaded. Grandpa had fought like hell. But Dad didn’t care enough to change. The man starting up that truck, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other God-knows-where, was exactly who he wanted to be. And it wasn’t someone who gave a damn about his kids.

I let my head fall back against the window frame, staring at the fields as thesunset spilt gold over them. I wanted to bottle that warmth and hold on to it because God knew I couldn’t getit here. Not from him. Not from this house that made me feel like I was suffocating in the shadow of someone else’s failures.

I won’t end up like him.That was the promise Imade myself every single day. No matter how bad it got, I wouldn’t let myself sink into a place where love or loss could strip me down to nothing. Leave me with nothing.

Even if that meant forgetting the hold AuroraGreenehad on me.

chapter three

i might not know where i belong, but i know it's not in his arms

You know that feeling when you’re at a party and you realise that you could just slip away, and nothing about the party would change? You realise that people won’t stop and look for you, pause everything until you’re back?

That was kind of what it felt like for me at Liberty Grove.

I could have never come back and I’m sure my professors wouldn’t havethought twice about why I wasn’t there, or even if they remembered me being here at all.

Wasn’t there a girl with long brown hair? Always in pink? She looked a little likeshe was seeing the universe's entire history whenever she sat in here. Vacant, almost no-thoughts kind of stare? No? Must be my imagination.

I wouldn’t blame my professors if theyever had that conversation, because I felt like even more of a ghost last year than Idid right now. As though I was just on autopilot and had no real sense of what I was even doing here anymore.

But it was a way of getting closer to my dad, so I suppose that had to count forsomething.

Don’t even think about crying right now, Aurora. Not here. Wait until you’re home.

I squeezed my eyes closed, pushing down the swell of tears, before springingthem open and bursting open the doors that led to the law lecture halls.

The building loomed ahead, all whitestone, sharp edges and glass reflecting a sky that felt too heavy with grey clouds. I never thought I’d end up here, in a place that didn’t feel like mine. But when the idea first struck—that maybe this could bring a flicker of light back into Dad’s life—I didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t.

Law had been his lifeline. After Mom died,it was what kept him upright, kept him from crumbling under the weight of his grief. That, and me. Family law, he used to say, was more than just a career—it was a way of helping people rebuild what was broken. And now, somehow, I was here, trying to do the same for him.

The dream wasn’t mine. It never had been. But if it could lift even one shadowfrom his face, that was enough. Or at least, I thought it could be. Regardless of whether or not it was whatI wanted for myself.

But I told myself the look on his facewhen I showed him my acceptance letterto Liberty would be worth it. It would make me happy enough just to know that he was happier. That he had another thing to live for.

But he’s dead now, Aurora. So, who areyou doing this for?

There was only so much I could think aboutDad without pushing the tears all theway down. It had only been a fewmonths—a second compared to how long he was on this earth, so things were still fresh.

And by fresh, I meant soul crushing.

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