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CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU REFUSE TO BE HAPPY FOR ME AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU. CALL ME!
    Yeah.
    I wipe hot tears from my cheeks and sniffle. How can I be happy for him when he announced that he was getting remarried in a text message? He didn’t consider me or how I’d feel. Other than hating her, I don’t know Donna—and now she’s going to be married to my father. My family will never be whole again. We will be broken forever.
    I make this choking/coughing sound as I sob into my bent elbow.
    I don’t want to call him. In fact, I’d prefer he and DD sneak off to go live in their fairy-tale land instead of shoving his happiness down my throat. Maybe the wicked stepmother could put a curse on them. Or a dragon could eat them both.
    I grab a handful of toilet paper and blow my nose. I can feel the sweat on the back of my neck. I have to get out of this sausage stall. I walk straight outside to the sidewalk because I’m suffocating. Once I catch my breath I text him back:
     
I quit softball.
    After I hit send, my heart races. That is going to piss him off more than my “Whatever.” I want my lie to make him go nuts. It would be satisfying to hear the way Dad’s voice slides down an octave when he’s furious. I want to hurt him as muchas he has hurt me. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I want to talk to him. Maybe it’ll make me feel alive. I dial his number. After a few rings, he picks up.
    Dad shouts, “What do you mean you quit ?”
    “I mean, I quit.”
    Heavy, exasperated breathing fills my ear.
    I whisper, “You’re marrying her?”
    “This isn’t a good time. Donna and I are about to get massages.”
    I swear to God he says this.
    Now it’s my turn to huff in his ear.
    “Adele, I don’t know why that coach didn’t cut you last season. You aren’t in shape. Congratulations on blowing any chance you had for a college scholarship.”
    I repeat my one-word eff-you, “Whatever.” Him exploding right now would be the perfect vindication.
    “I’m allowed to be happy!” he yells. “Do you hear me? I’m allowed to be happy, damnit!”
    I say nothing. Dad’s anger isn’t having the desired effect. I feel limp and tired, and just want to plop in bed and disappear underneath the covers.
    I shiver as misery seeps from my pores. I press the phone to my ear, but I don’t say anything. Couples and families stream by me. I watch a father and his two young daughters. Theguy’s got one girl on either side of him, and he’s holding their hands, laughing and smiling. He looks down at his children with the best expression. Love.
    I want someone to look at me like that. Accept me, love me, see me.
    “Don’t you answer me with one word. Do you—” There’s rustling and then Donna Dumbass says something, but I can’t make out the words. Dad says to her, “I’m fine, honey. I’m fine. She’s just, ah, being difficult.”
    DD must lean in, on purpose, because I hear her clearly say to my father, “ I love you.”
    “I love you more.”
    If there was any kind of sharp, pointy object within reach, it would be firmly implanted in my eye.
    “Listen to me, Adele,” my father starts back at me. “Donna makes me happy. I love her, and you’re going to have to learn to love her too.”
    I swallow a scream and cough loudly in his ear. On purpose.
    My father clears his throat. “Just because you are overweight and angry about it, that’s no reason for you to lash out at me. I did not make you overweight.”
    My stomach feels like it met the fist of a prizefighter.
    “My mother even bought you all of those nice clothes.” Ihear him say to Donna, “She’s holding everything against me, even her weight.”
    I wipe away a tear and whisper, “Me being fat is none of your business. I was fine before you ruined everything. You act like I don’t exist.”
    “I did not call you fat, Adele. Were you even listening to me? I think me finding happiness may have something to do with your