Prince Tennyson by Jenni James Page A

water from the bathroom, I would lay awake on my bed and think about it.
    It was too hard.
    Way too hard. I just wanted to give up, because frankly it’s easier to believe He wasn’t real. A whole lot easier.
    I put my head down on my knees like I did on the playground and tried not to think about not hugging my prince anymore. I tried not to think about it really, really hard, but I couldn’t make the picture in my head go away. I just wanted to hug my dad so much and have him twirl me around so my feet came off the ground. Just one more time.
    Sometimes I wished I couldn’t remember my dad so much.
    It made my heart hurt and made me cry.
    Wednesday, on my bed, I cried really bad. The most I had cried in a long time. I cried so much I had a crying headache. Mom gets those a lot, but not me.
    It had been a pretty bad day. Grandma Haney was mad at me and two kids from school were mad at me and even Mrs. Sheridan was mad at me. All because of an accident. A big, horrible accident.
    I didn’t mean to trip over Jasmine’s shoe, or land on Bryson’s desk with both his and Chad’s projects on it. Who knew they still had all that stuff on there, anyway? We were supposed to be done with our projects. Mrs. Sheridan had asked us to clean up a whole ten minutes before I came back to my desk. Besides, I definitely hadn’t meant to crumble Bryson’s craft and tear Chad’s, too. Now everyone was mad at me again. Everyone. For something I didn’t even mean to do.
    Except no one believed me. No one. They all thought I did it on purpose.
    The only person who ever believed me was gone, and he wasn’t ever coming back. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see him again. And it hurt. The whole day hurt, but missing my dad hurt worse. I knew if he were there, he would smile and give me a big hug, and then he would make Grandma Haney and Mrs. Sheridan smile.
    I threw myself on the bed and cried and cried. All I wanted was my dad back. Why couldn’t I have him? Why?
    I’d even become so sad, I wondered if God would come into my heart, but He didn’t come. I just sat on that bed and waited and waited and cried and cried, but God never came at all. My heart stayed hurting and sad the whole time, and the only one who was there was my dad, and all sorts of memories surrounding him. It was so hard to think of him.
    I just wanted my dad to go away and leave me alone for a while so I wouldn’t cry so much. I just wanted him to be gone from my mind. But he wouldn’t leave. He just stayed right there in my mind, all happy and fun and everything. Even when I said, “Go away and leave me alone!”
    Instead, I remembered him more. I remembered how much fun he was to play with and how we made pancakes together. He always made those special Mickey Mouse pancakes, with ears and everything. I could even taste the chocolate chips he’d put in the batter.
    â€œYou’re giving me a headache. I don’t want a headache. Go away, Dad!”
    It wasn’t fair.
    I was never going to see my dad again, and he still wouldn’t leave me alone. Nothing I ever wanted was right, or easy, or fun. Nothing. Not anymore. Proving that God was real was going to hurt me much, much more than thinking that He wasn’t real, because it made me think of my dad again and again and again. And I couldn’t do that.
    I just couldn’t.
    I needed a break.
    My shoulders and heart were breaking so much, I couldn’t take it. I had never felt so much heaviness on me before. And it was the worst feeling in the whole world.
    All at once, I jumped off my bed and crawled underneath and dragged out the secret box. I knew why my mom had thrown away the pictures. I wanted them gone. All of them. They were bad and stupid and useless.
    Why should I try to remember something I’d never see again, anyway?
    With a hefty lunge, I hurled that box against the bedroom wall. Pictures of my smiling, happy