ONE
MISSED BUSES

     She didn't mean to miss the bus, no matter how her teacher had made it seem on the phone call with her father.

     It had been a particularly rough day, more so than every other day. Her school-appointed grief counselor had suggested that she needed to make friends, and that eating her lunch-ables in hallway by the art classroom was not at all appropriate. She had nearly flunked her surprise math quiz, and her history teacher had seemed more dick-ish today than usual, and in her feeble attempt to stand up for a girl being bullied, Delilah had turned into the target for their attack. It was a not-so-great day, at all.

     Then she listened as her math teacher implied that she had missed the bus on purpose, with the intention of making her father leave work to pick her up, and get him all pissed off in the process as a way to gain some sort of attention. Again, most of her teachers had decided to be dicks together on some random day.

     It was a shit day . . . and Delilah wanted nothing more than to rant to her mom and bake some cookies with her.

     It was all she could really think about as she sat outside the high school, and relished in the semi-warm January air, while she awaited her father's arrival. For a few minutes, her teacher had sat with her, and muttered something about being responsible for the minor, but had given up after about ten minutes. Delilah knew it would be at least another ten before her father arrived on campus.

He did, in less time than what Delilah had allotted for him. His familiar truck had pulled into the half circle designated drop-off in front of the main doors. He didn't honk, or roll the down the windows; Delilah just stood from the bench and scooped up her bag, and approached his truck.

As she climbed into the front seat, and discarded her bag on the floor, no words were shared between she and her father. It was slightly awkward, but Delilah preferred it that way . . . their relationship had been tense for the last (almost) three years. Most days, it felt like they were just ships passing in the night, only communicating when truly needed.

     "I didn't miss the bus on purpose, you know. My math teacher is just a major dickbag."

     "Delilah," Bobby scolded softly, just for the use of her language. "You know better; besides, I don't care that you missed the bus. It's alright to call me if you need a ride."

Delilah nodded; she knew that, full well too.

     Silence fell upon them, like it usually did. She pulled her foot up to the seat, and leaned her head against her knee. She didn't care about the dirt on the seat, she left her mind empty as she watched out the window, the buildings that passed by them as her father merged on the interstate.

It took about five minutes until Delilah realized she didn't recognize any of the buildings they passed. She furrowed her brows before she lifted her head and looked at her father.

"Where are we going? This isn't the way you take home." Delilah pointed out — whenever he picked her up from school, he always took the same route home. It was odd that her father would deviate from this.

     "Uh, yeah." He agreed slightly. "I've got to head back to the station, so you'll hang out there for a bit. If you don't want to stay, I can take you home later."

     Delilah groaned, "Whatever."

     "I had planned on ordering pizza for everyone tonight," Bobby bartered with his daughter. He didn't know how else to mend this relationship with her, he felt too far gone at this point.

     She shrugged. "Okay."

     Truthfully, she hadn't wanted the pizza. Delilah was tired of the pizzas, and the frozen burritos, and the cans of ravioli. She wanted her father back, and his cooking back . . . but she knew, likely, that piece of him wouldn't return. She couldn't fault him. She knew that she wouldn't be the same, ever again, not since they lost mom. She couldn't expect the same thing out of them.

     "I think you would like them," Bobby said, in an attempt to over an olive branch for conversation. "My firefighters . . . They're good people, ya know?"

"Okay?" Delilah wasn't sure how else to respond. "I mean, that's good, I guess."

Bobby glanced over to his daughter, a soft smile upon his face. "I think you and Buck would get along nicely. As much as he drives me insane, he really does remind me of you." He looked to the road, and back to his daughter for a brief minute. "Ya know, the mannerisms and such."

She didn't respond more. She wouldn't mention it to anyone, but Delilah appreciated the fact that her father was beginning to open up more . . . he never did talk about his job, not since they moved to Los Angeles. As soon as she noticed that her dad returned his gaze to the road and traffic, the slightest of smiles had graced her lips. That was enough.

    Things might be getting better.

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     Delilah had always been proud of her father; even despite their rocky relationship over the last two years. As a young child, she loved to talk about the stories where her father had been a hero, and she loved when her mother had taken her and her baby brother to see their father at the station. Bobby always joked that his eldest daughter was his number one fan, but Marcy always knew that to be true.

Anxiety had begun to creep up her shoulders as she walked through the station, trailing behind her father. She wasn't sure how she felt. She just knew that the stares from the firefighters felt odd. Delilah didn't know these people, and she wasn't sure if they knew who she was. For all she knew, they didn't know that their captain was a father.

     "Bobby!"

     Delilah looked up. A Black woman, a White man and an Asian man stood up in the loft, leaning against the rails. They looked annoyed, and glanced to the white man between them.

     Delilah shrunk slightly when they noticed her. They were no longer focused on the object of their annoyance, and now were perplexed by the blonde teen behind their captain. Delilah moved over, further behind her father, and followed him upstairs to the loft.

"Whatever it is, knock it off."

She smiled at the annoyed tone in his voice. It was same tone of voice at he used to use with her and her baby brother. She missed the days where she and Robert would bicker and bicker. Then she frowned; what she wouldn't give to hug her brother one more time.

"Can't I defend myself?!" He claimed, he being the unknown White man, and threw his hands in the air.

"No," Bobby rolled his eyes, and stepped to the side to reveal the small teen behind him. "Guys, this is my daughter, Delilah."

He then introduced his firefighters, respectively. Hen Wilson, the woman. Chimney, the Asian man. Evan Buckley, or Buck, the White man.

Delilah raised her eyebrow at Buckley. This was the man that reminded her father of herself.

     "Um," she began timidly. "It's actually Del."

Hen had been the first to push past the men, and extend her hand with a warm smile. "It's nice to meet you, Del. We didn't know Cap had a daughter."

     Delilah smiled awkwardly and shrugged, "Well, here I am. Uh, dad has sometimes been known to keep his professional and personal lives separate."

It hadn't been a lie, per se, but as Delilah glanced at her father, she knew he had been thankful for her quick thinking. Truthfully, he hadn't been open with his firefighters about his family . . . but he wasn't ready for that, yet. Delilah couldn't blame him; it had been almost two years since the fire, but it would always be a lifetime of grief.

"Either way," Hen grinned at the teenager. "Any family of Cap's, is family of ours. You won't have to worry about a thing while you're here," and then she winked, "Especially if I'm around too."

Delilah wasn't sure if it was her warm and welcoming personality, or just the idea that she had someone else in her corner, but she felt a little swell of happiness. It felt odd, almost, at first. It took a moment of processing, but she welcomed the feeling.

She smiled back, "Thanks, Hen."

Her father had placed a hand on her shoulder, and opened his mouth to speak, but had been interrupted by the bell. Instead, he gave his daughter a guilty smile and shrugged.

"Uh, get started on some homework and I'll order pizza when we get back." He turned to run downstairs, but stopped, quickly. "There's snacks in the fridge if you're hungry!"

Then he was off again; to rescue someone on their worst day.

Delilah sighed and her smile fell. She watched as the trucks and ambulance pulled out of the station, and everything fell silent. She had bit her lip, and glanced at the large dining table in the kitchen.

At least she still had biology homework to do.

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     She closed her biology textbook as the firetrucks backed into the garage of the firehouse. It hadn't been more than a hour since they left, and Delilah deduced that it had been a relatively easy call — and she assumed she was right by the firefighters' reactions, and her father's eye roll.

They moseyed themselves upstairs, but her father and Buckley had sauntered behind. It looked like her dad had been getting onto him for something, and Delilah decided to stay out of it.

"Hey, Del."

Hen and Chimney had slid into the seats beside her at the dining table.

"Whatcha workin' on?" Chimney questioned as he tilted his head to get a look at her textbook.

"Bio essay," Delilah shrugged. "Teacher let us pick a topic we're gonna work on, and let us get a head start for extra points."

     "What's your topic?" Hen took a genuine interest in her, and Delilah smiled softly.

     "Uh," she muttered softly as she toyed with the corners of her notebook papers. "Ecosystems mostly, but specifically the way that invasive species have impacts on ecosystems."

     Chimney went to ask another question, but her father and Buckley had joined them, finally. Delilah knew her father wasn't too thrilled about something; the atmosphere around them had grown tense.

     Buckley sat down with them, and her father muttered something about pizza before he went off towards his office. Delilah looked at man, as did Hen, and the woman raised an eyebrow at him. They were expecting some sort of an explanation.

     "Well?" Hen waited.

     "What did you do to piss off my dad so much?"

     "Apparently I flirted with a girl while on the call, and kinda chopped the head off a snake," he admitted, "But I saved the pretty girl, so it's alright."

     Chimney shrugged, "I just don't do snakes."

Buckley rolled his eyes. "Bobby'll be fine, give like twenty minutes. He loves me."

Delilah wondered what kind of relationship her father had with these people. It felt like Hen, and Chimney, and the others, all respected her father — as their captain and a fellow first responder. With Buckley, it didn't seem like it was same way. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew something ( not necessarily good ) was going to happen.

She hummed softly as she put her textbook and notebooks away in her bag, and she stood up.

"He may love you, or whatever, but be respectful. Dad takes his job seriously, he always has."

She gave once last glance to Buckley, who looked like he was mulling her words over, then she gave one last smile to Hen and Chimney. Delilah started off in the same direction of her father's office.

Maybe he could give some insight into his firefighters.

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a/n → hello! this took forever, but I finally had some inspiration for Del and her story, and I am so excited to write some more! this probably isn't a long chapter, but it's just the beginning, and I hope yall are excited for Del's character and her relationships with the firefighters, like I am! anyway, I hope you enjoyed and have fun!