Bittersweet by Kimberly Loth
Publication date: March 21st 2015Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Young Adult
Every Sunday Savannah Ray gets an email from her dead dad. She doesn’t know how the emails work and she doesn’t mind either as she’s not ready to let go. Now that her mom is fed up of her rebellious behavior, she has to go to the one place she swore she’d never set foot in after he died—Haunted Valley, the amusement park. Once there and bullied by co-workers & customers, she is distracted by the charming Dallas and falls hard for him. But Savannah and Dallas both hold secrets that threaten their new relationship. Will Haunted Valley help her move on, or will it destroy her from the inside out?
Grant
lived in a three-bedroom apartment right next to the Mall of America
and Ikea. So much for saving up for the Eurochocolate tour. I may be
depressed and having trouble getting over the early demise of my
father, but shopping therapy still worked. Too bad its effects never
lasted longer than stepping foot out of the mall.
Grant
caught me spying Ikea out the living room window.
“Your
room is a little plain. You can go shopping tomorrow.”
I
nodded, pretending I didn’t care.
He
set my bags in my room and then asked if I needed anything.
“No,
I'm fine. A little tired.”
“Me
too, Kiddo, I’m going to bed.”
I
tensed. Kiddo? No one called me kiddo. Except my dad. He never called
me by name; he used pet names instead.
Before
I could ask him to call me Savannah, I heard the door to his bedroom
click shut. I sighed. He looked like my dad but didn’t act like
him. Perhaps I reminded Grant of my dad, with my mannerisms and
personality. I was just like him, though I tried to shake it off.
Because then someday I’d end up dead the same way he did. I removed
my watch and looked at my tattoo. My reminder.
My
room was pretty empty. A bed and a closet. Except the walls were
covered in photographs.
The
first picture startled me a bit. My dad smiled at me from a boat; he
was young, maybe my age. The next was his graduation ceremony. There
was a wedding picture of him and my mom, an eight-year-old Grant
frowning next to them. Mom and Dad looked so happy. They divorced
when I was so young that I never thought to ask for details on why
they split. Both always just said they were too different to stay
married.
A
few pictures away he held a baby in his arms. That had to have been
me. Damn, I was chubby. Cute though. Surprisingly, there were a lot
of pictures with me in them. As I moved around the room I found the
picture from the summer I turned twelve and we went to Disneyworld.
My stomach clenched. No, I would not
think of that.
I
removed all the pictures from the walls and stacked them in the
corner of the closet. No way could I function with him everywhere.
The walls were much better empty.
I
flopped down on the twin mattress. The pillow was flat. My bedroom at
home was the one place I felt comfortable, where I could relax. This
room was not designed for relaxing. It was too sterile.
I
pulled my backpack towards me and dug out an apple and a box of eight
truffles. I took a bite of the apple. Chewed. Swallowed. Where to
start? The Richileiu. The flavors rolled around my tongue. Both dark
and milk chocolate mixed with cherry. Mmm.
I
wasn’t sure I would be able to live with a bachelor. Especially one
who was obsessed with my dad. Unless he gave me an Ikea card and told
me to spend whatever I liked. Then I might be able to deal with it.
I
took out my phone to text Candie about Ikea. In February, we ditched
school one day and drove up to Minneapolis. We meant to go to the
Mall of America but spent the entire day playing hide-and-seek in
Ikea. It was one of those days that I’d almost stayed home because
I didn’t want to face perky teachers and a pep assembly with too
much school spirit. Candie didn’t even attempt to make the drive to
school; she just got on the freeway and drove north. I loved that
about her. The way she could tell when I needed something.
I
ran a hand over my slick bald head and put the phone back. I loved
Candie but I didn’t think I’d ever be able to forgive her. Not
after what she did.
If
only I hadn’t been bored that day and looking for my black nail
polish. Then I never would’ve known. If I’d been thinking then
that brown was better, I wouldn’t have seen the scene that meant I
no longer had a best friend. But I did. I walked over to her house
and saw things I couldn’t unsee.
I
had longed for the pain that came with betrayal. The desire to shout
or cry or something. But nothing. No pain. No anger. Just numb
nothing. I knew I had to do something, to find a way to create the
pain.
Now
I realized that it was stupid to the think that a razor to the head
would create emotion when I hadn’t felt any in two years, but at
that moment I wasn’t thinking clearly.
My
hair had been long and a deep auburn, wavy and thick. It was the one
feature that I loved. It was also a protection. I never wore my hair
up because of my hearing aids. I didn’t want people too see them,
but more than that, my hair protected them from rain or the stray
water gun. Water and hearing aids don’t mix. I was probably a
little crazy to even consider getting rid of it.
I
didn’t use the straight edge at first. Instead I dug around the
bathroom closet and found the kit that my mother used to give Teddy
haircuts. I took both it and the straight edge to my bedroom. Then I
went back to the kitchen and found an apple. I sliced it into eight
pieces, and found the “Chocolates of the Month” box that my
stepmom sent me. I’d been saving them for a special occasion; if
that wasn’t a special occasion I didn’t know what was.
I
ate a slice of the apple, then studied the box.
The
liquor chocolates caught my eye first. Not that the alcohol would
have any effect whatsoever, but it was the idea of it. It seemed
appropriate. I picked up a Cognac truffle made with Grenadian
chocolate. I let the chocolate roll over my tongue and closed my eyes
to enjoy the flavor. When all traces of the chocolate were gone I put
the number-one guard on the electric razor and forced it down the
middle of my head. It pulled and tugged and hurt.
My
eyes welled up with tears from the pain but not from the shock of
seeing twenty inches of hair fall to the ground. Another slice of
apple, a Macallan truffle, and another clump of hair fell to the
ground. Four slices later, all that was left on my head was prickly
stubble. I brought the last two truffles with me to the bathroom
where I ran the straightedge over my head until it shone. I didn’t
even cut myself. I had hoped to feel the thrill of shock or
anticipation. Nothing.
Just
emptiness.
And
chocolate.
Kimberly Loth can't decide where she wants to settle down. She's lived in Michigan, Illinois, Missouri, Utah, California, Oregon, and South Carolina. She finally decided to make the leap and leave the U.S. behind for a few years. Currently, she lives in Cairo, Egypt with her husband and two kids.
She is a high school math teacher by day (please don't hold that against her) and YA author by night. She loves romantic movies, chocolate, roses, and crazy adventures. Kissed is her first novel.
She is a high school math teacher by day (please don't hold that against her) and YA author by night. She loves romantic movies, chocolate, roses, and crazy adventures. Kissed is her first novel.
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