The Broken One

***Andy’s P.O.V
The whole hour it takes to drive home I notice quite a few things about Cynthia, like the way she’s constantly tugging her sleeves down and chewing on her lip. I don’t make much out of these things, I figure she’s just nervous. The minutes pass, mostly in silence. It’s not uncomfortable though, Cynthia isn’t the type of person that has to be talking just to fill the quiet and that’s fine, but I would like to get to know her some, after all, she is my new daughter.
“There’s your new school you’ll be going to soon.”
I say as we drive past Bridgeview High School. She looks and I notice the worried expression that comes to her face.
“You worried or something? You don’t look too happy.”
I chuckle, glancing over at her as I continue driving.
“I just don’t make friends easily, I tend to stick out in most places.”
She says, sounding just a tad bit embarrassed.
“You’ll do fine, there’s plenty of people there, surely you'll find somebody you can get along with and if it makes you feel better I never really fit in in high school either”
I say, trying to reassure her.
“But you never got bullied”
She says quietly.
“People bully you?”
I ask, feeling bad for her, it might explain why she’s so quiet though and nervous acting all the time though.
“yeah”
I hear her sigh, and sensing she’s not done talking I don’t say anything.
“The kids at the orphanage made fun of me, they said that I must have done something to my parents car on purpose so they would crash. They said that that’s what a freak like me would do”
She finishes saying just as we pull into the driveway of my house. I turn the ignition off and look at her, I see a few tears running down her cheeks and my heart swells for her, she been through too much at such a young age. I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Look at me”
I say gently. She looks up, he eyes red and watery, I can tell she’s trying hard not to start crying.
“You are NOT a freak, I don’t care what anybody else says, you aren’t. Those kids at the orphanage were probably just jealous that you actually had a family that loved you so much. Your parents would be proud of you for being so strong”
I tell her, wondering why teenagers have to be so hateful to each other.
“I’m far from strong, Andy”
She mutters softly.
“What do you mean?”
I ask her, sensing there’s something she’s not telling me.
“It’s nothing really. Can we go inside?”
She asks, changing the subject as fast as she can.
“Sure, let me get your bag out of the trunk.”

Notes

I hope everybody likes this. The next chapters after this will probably get a little more interesting so stay tuned.
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~becca