Page 53 of Apparently, I’m Trouble

“Nothing.”

I felt a pang, but pushed it aside. Kira was a young woman, almost an adult, and there would be things she wouldn’t want to share with her father. I knew that.

But knowing that didn’t make it any easier. Sometimes, I wished she was still an excited six-year-old, running into my office, waving her latest drawing in my face as she told me about her day. I’d give anything to have that again.

I was lucky as it was that she told me about Miles.

“Is it about your period?”

She was horrified. “Ew, Dad!”

“I know about periods, Kira. Between your mother and aunt, I can–”

“Dad, please,” she begged. “Stop.”

“Did you run out of painkillers?”

“No–please stop, it isn’t about that.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Kira.”

“Dad.” She gave me a stern look that could’ve been straight from Tash’s playbook, and it made me smile. I had to respect that.

“Is it about the program?”

Kira slid her backpack off and slung it onto a nearby chair. “I’m so glad I don’t have to sit through that class until Friday.”

I frowned. That was a surprise. Kira usually had nothing but great things to say about her class.

“Did something happen?”

She didn’t look at me as she shook her head. “I’m just over all the work we have to do.”

Since when?

Once we managed to get that viral book swapped for another, Kira had written essay after essay. She was determined to catch up, and she seemed to enjoy it. Hearing her complain like this felt out of place.

“What do you have to do this week?” I asked.

“An essay on the dangers of generational romantic restraints.”

“Ah.” She’d usually be all over a topic like this. “So you’ll probably get another A?”

She scoffed. “Probably. And then I’ll get tortured because of it.”

Her voice trailed off, but I caught the last part and stood. “What do you mean, ‘tortured’?”

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms. “It’s nothing.”

“Kira, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

I rounded the desk. “You can talk to me. You know that.”