Day 7
Still Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

I consider myself to be a pretty original person. But there are times when even someone like me had her moments.

To do or not to do…that is the question.

How was I supposed to do this? There were many different options, but there were two that really stood out the most. I would either A) go ahead and knock on the door – “Surprise! I’m you daughter that you gave up for adoption since birth.” – the full frontal. Or B) Lurk around the neighbour hood, keep an eye on them, cross my fingers and hope I’ll bump into them sometime soon. In simpler terms, become a stalker minus the brutally psycho nature.

Or I could always combine them, plan B, then plan A.

So many choices, such limited chances. And shit, so little time. I was fast running out of cash, all the driving Ginger and I had done had eaten up pretty much all of the money I’d left with. Petrol these days. Geesh.

I don’t remember how I found out their home address. I’ve had it with me for a couple of years, so I forget. I think I’d seen it somewhere, and wrote it down as fast as I could. It was scrawled on some random square of paper. Their address, my home.

The only problem was the street number. In my hurry I had carelessly scrawled it on, and now I couldn’t make it out. And it wasn’t some one or two digit either, I couldn’t quite make it out, it was most likely around 4 or 5. This was going to be a long search, unless luck decided to have pity on me.

Trust me to do such a thing.

|Taylor|

I had another dream. The exact same one.

Except that the girl was closer, although not yet close enough for me to make out her face. And then I realised something after I woke up. Didn’t realise during the dream while it was actually happening, but while I was sitting up in bed, staring out the window and listening to Isaac mumble and Zac snore.

“Segregation” was getting lighter, although it still had that snide tone to it, I could barely hear it. And on the contrary, “Accept the past, forgive the future.” was sounding faster, louder, urgent and demanding. It also still held its soft and pleading tone.

I also then realised my head was pounding like crazy, so I gingerly climbed out of bed, being careful as to not wake up my brothers. I crept downstairs to the kitchen, and found what my head was craving. I took the aspirin with water, relieving my throbbing head.

And I sat there in the dark, alone, elbows on the dining table, chin in hands. I stared and stared. Didn’t quite know exactly what I was staring so intently at, and I didn’t notice the time until Zac came trudging down to find me in the same position, the sun shining on my face. Typical of him, he slapped the side of my head, probably to make sure I was still alive.

“How are the fairies Tay?”

I didn’t take notice of what he had said until later in the day when I heard him talking to Ike. He was apparently 'worried' about me.

“You think he’s hiding something? Maybe he’s…oh my God, maybe he’s gay and is scared that we’ll kick him out of the family! I knew it! I told you so man! I told you so!”

Upon hearing a thud, Zac’s protest and exclaimed of pain followed by Ike’s laughter, I chuckled to myself. And stopped when I head Zac’s little musing.

“Wonder if he’s got himself the significant other yet…”

And I tackled him. That is, after I had proclaimed my wild and passionate love for him.

|Isaac|

I swear, Zac needs help. Seriously. Some good, serious professional help. Although I had to admit, there were times when I wondered just what Taylor was hiding…He was my best friend really after all, and it kinda bothered me that he didn't come to me with some problems.

|Zac|

There’s no other explanation. Taylor, my poor brother Taylor was pretty screwed up in the head. At such a young age too. God, he’s gonna break a lot of hearts…tsk, tsk…

|Loretta|

Day 8
Considering setting up camp in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Running out of money, food and sanity.

“A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A…B.”

So far it was 5 to Plan A, and 7 to Plan B and 3 to Plan C, the combined. I added another little line to the tally of Plan B. So far I had gone through 15 daisies. There was a small pile of petals, pink, white, yellow and orange mixed together in front of me, and another pile of more daisies by my right. I had found a small field of these wild daisies, and now I was letting the daisy petals make the final decision for me.

Imagine that, the ever so resolved and practical Loretta was letting little flower petals decide her future. This was not good. I was losing my mind, and fast.

“A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A.” One for A

“A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B.” Another for B.

“A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A.” I guess C wasn’t a very popular idea.

“A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A, B, C, A.” Now I was running out of not only money, food, sanity and patience, I was running out of flowers too.

After a few more minutes of picking and chanting, I came to a decision. Or rather, the daisy came to a decision. It was B.

Tomorrow, I was to become a full-fledged harmless stalker. Like in the movies or up in Hollywood or something. The glamorous places.

So why didn’t it sound so appealing?

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