"Your father is here." Melissa rushed the words from her mouth and my heart nearly stopped.

What she was saying made no sense in my mind. My father- I didn't have a father. I had Frank and a sperm donor. A Father was a foreign concept only lucky kids were able to fully experience. I was not one of those lucky kids.

"Father?" I found myself repeating the word, confusion soaking each letter.

"Your father." Melissa spat, anger forming in her crystal eyes. "The social worker managed to track him down."

"The social worker." I nodded, not fully processing the conversation.

I still couldn't get passed the word 'father'. It simply wasn't possible, wasn't fathomable.

"Get down here." Melissa snapped, "He wants to speak with  you."

Was that jealousy in her tone?  Why would Melissa be jealous?

I trudged downstairs, completely ignoring the fact that I was still in my pajama's. My busted and swollen face hadn't even registered in