Dad yelled at Carol last night. I heard it from inside the tent after he told me to go to bed. He said some real bad things to her, about Sophia, especially. He's hurtin'. He feels guilty. I can tell. He thinks it's his fault that Sophia came outta that barn.

Last night, Dad didn't let us go eat dinner with everyone else. He took me out hunting we caught a rabbit. I'm not a big fan of rabbit, but it ain't like eating something I can't stand. 

At least, with rabbit, I know exactly what I'm eating and what it will taste like. It's confusing. I don't like blueberry breakfast bars because they've got mushy bits and hard bits and little flakes on top. I hate 'em. But with rabbit, it's just the meat, so it's all the same, as long as Dad cooks it good. And Dad's a professional at cooking rabbit. He knows how I like it. 

Anyway, I ate about half of my bits of rabbit and Dad ate what I couldn't finish. And then he sent me to bed. I thought I'd be able to convince him, but he's avoiding Carol with everything he's got. 

This morning, though, I told Dad I wasn't gonna eat any rabbit leftovers for breakfast, so me and him and Nicki went back down to the farmhouse for breakfast. When we got over there, Shane asked Dad if he'd go with him to find Rick. Dad didn't wanna, but when Carl came running over to us to tell us that his momma was pregnant and he's gonna be a big brother, Dad gave in. Guess he thinks that baby's oughta have its daddy. 

Dad's wearing the angel-wing vest again today. The weather's getting cooler. I think autumn is coming around. I know we won't be celebrating Halloween this year, but the fall weather still makes my stomach bubble up with excitement. 

My Dad stands next to Shane- even though he doesn't like him- and T-Dog at the back of the car. I'm standing with them, even though I'm not going with them. 

"You stick by the RV, alright?" Dad says, giving my shoulder a little squeeze. 

I nod my head. "You better come back. All a' you," I tell them all. It always makes me nervous when people go out, even if they know what they're doing out there. You never know if they're gonna make it back. 

"We will. I'll make sure of it," Shane says, giving me a pat on the back. 

"Good," I say, giving them all a small smile. Dad ruffles my hair, but when he does, he accidentally gets the spot that's still healing from the gunshot. I wince and turn my head away. 

"Shit. Sorry," Dad murmurs, furrowing his eyebrows. He forgot about it, I guess. "Lemme see," he says, taking my chin with one hand and turning my head back to him. He brushes the hair back behind my ear, revealing what's left of the nasty-looking thing. I quickly pull the hair back down, covering it back up. "You need more Tylenol?" he asks me. 

"No, thank you," I say, shaking my head. I hate medicine. Plus, Tylenol tastes bad if you don't swallow it fast enough. 

"We're both gonna have some tough-lookin' scars, now, huh?" T-Dog says, nudging my shoulder. He's still got a bandage over his arm. That's covering up his new scar. 

"Yeah. Guess so," I say with a shrug. Thinking about it as tough-looking rather than nasty-looking makes it seem less bad. Just as I say that, I start to hear a rumbling sound. Likes rocks crunching beneath tires. I turn and see the missing car going up the long driveway. "Look!" I tell everyone, pointing out at them. 

Soon, the car comes to a stop right by us. Rick is the first to get out, and Carl greets him with a hug. Hershel's next. He's got blood on his shirt. Maggie goes running towards him, only to skirt around him and hug Glenn instead. Rude. 

"Patricia, prepare the shed for surgery," Hershel orders. Who the heck needs surgery? And why in the shed?

"Who the hell is that?" T-Dog says. I look over at him to see that he's pointing to the car. 

Someone else is in the car. I step closer to the window and peer inside. There's a guy in there. He looks young. Maybe Maggie's age. He's blindfolded and sleeping. Or maybe passed out. Dad tugs me away from the car by the back of my shirt. 

"That's Randall," Glenn says. 

Hershel and Patricia go off to the shed while everyone else heads into the house. I start to follow them, but Dad stops me. First, he hands me Nicki's shoe. Must've fallen off. Then, he gives me a stern look and says, "I don't give a shit what Rick and them have to say 'bout that guy. You don't go near him, hear me?" 

"He's just a guy," I say, shrugging. He's hurt. He can't even stand up with his messed-up leg. What's there to be so afraid of?

"No. I know you like to think everyone's your friend, and that's sweet an' all, but it ain't the truth. You don't go near him or I'mma-" Dad cuts himself off, biting his lip. He was gonna say you don't go near him or I'mma wear you out. "You don't go near him 'cause I don't trust him. We don't know him and that makes him dangerous. Understand me?"

"Yeah. I won't go see him. Swear," I promise, nodding my head. 

"Alright, good. Let's go see what the plan is for him, huh?" Dad says, gently pushing me forward to start walking to the house. 

"Isn't that the same as leaving him for the walkers?" Andrea is asking as me and Dad walk inside. I hope they don't leave him for the walkers. I don't think he should stay here, but I think he can stay until his leg is all the way healed, so he'll have a chance at surviving out there. 

"He'll have a fighting chance," Rick says.

"Just gonna let him go? He knows where we are," Shane says, looking right at Rick. Him and Rick have been disagreeing a lot lately, and this is just gonna put them even more against each other. 

"He was blindfolded the whole way here. He's not a threat," Rick argued, shaking his head. 

Shane scoffs at that. "Not a threat. How many of them were there? You killed three of their men, you took one of 'em hostage, but they just ain't gonna come lookin' for him?" he says. 

I didn't know that. Rick and Glenn and Hershel killed three strangers. I'm starting to think we- us living people- are the bad guys, too. Not just the walkers. 

"They left him for dead. No one is looking!" Rick shouts at Shane. I'm sick and tired of everyone arguing all the time. We're supposed to be working together to survive, and all we do is yell and disagree. 

"We should still post a guard," T-Dog adds in. I agree with that. At least T-Dog is reasonable. 

"He's out cold right now, will be for hours," Hershel says.

"Y'know what? I'm gonna go get him some flowers and candy," Shane says mockingly. He starts leaving the room, like he's actually gonna do it. But I know he's kidding. He scoffs angrily. "Look at this, folks. We back in fantasy land!"

"You know, we haven't even dealt with what you did at my barn yet," Hershel says, following behind him. Shane stops and turns around to look at him. "Let me make this perfectly clear, once and for all- this is my farm. Now, I wanted you gone. Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. So do us both a favor. Keep your mouth shut."

Shane stares at him for a moment, and he looks like he wants to argue. But he doesn't. He cocks his head to the side, sighs, and walks right out the front door, running his hands over his head.

I wanna follow him. I wanna tell him what I'm thinking. About how he might be right, but yelling and getting mad at everyone ain't gonna do nothing. No offense to him, but he needs to learn how to work as a team. I think we all do. 

Dad walks right out the door ahead of Carol, and I follow behind him. I'd go tell Shane what I'm thinking, but my dad would get mad at me for doing that because he doesn't trust Shane, so I don't. He's mad already- I can tell by how he's walking- but I don't know why. I don't wanna make it any worse. I think he needs some time alone. 

I can tell a lot about people. My dad, he's the type of person who needs to be angry when he's angry, and be sad when he's sad. He ain't the type of person who you can try to cheer up. Glenn is more the type of person you can cheer up, I think. Maybe Dale, too. But some people just gotta be mad for a little while before they move on. My dad's that type of person, so I think it's best to leave him alone for a little while, so he can feel his anger without directing any of it at me. 

"Dad?" I say, making him pause his fast walking and turn to look at me. He doesn't say what? but the questioning look on his face does. "Can I go keep watch with Dale for a little while?" I ask.

"Sure. As long as you're keepin' away from the shed," he says, giving a nod. 

"Thanks," I say. He nods again and turns to walk off. 

I start going to the RV, and I see Dale climbing up the ladder at the back of the RV. He's got his attention focused on Andrea, though. She's walking off with Shane. She has a crush on Shane, I think. Maybe I'm making assumptions, but she just always seems like she's trying to impress him. 

"Hey, Dale," I call up to the man, grabbing his attention. 

He looks down at me. "Hi, June. You come to join me?" he asks. I nod, giving a polite smile. He smiles, too. That's one thing I like about Dale. He's the type of person to always return your smile. "Come on up," he tells me. 

I climb up the ladder and take a seat at the edge of the RV, letting my legs dangle over the side. He stands, though. I think it makes it so he's paying more attention. He keeps better watch when he's standing up, or something like that.

"Do you know what day it is?" I ask Dale, looking up at him.

"I'm not quite sure. I'm sure I could figure it out if I go back and look at my calendar. Why do you ask?" Dale replies. 

"Well, I was just wonderin' how long it is until Halloween," I tell him. I love Halloween. Since Nicki's got so many clothes, I think I could dress her up on Halloween, even if I can't dress up myself. 

"From the weather, I'd guess maybe a week or two," Dale tells me. That makes my stomach bubble up with excitement. Too bad stores aren't restocking their shelves anymore, or else they'd have candy corn. I love candy corn. it's my favorite candy in the entire world. "Did you have a Halloween costume planned out before?" Dale asks me.

"Yeah. I was gonna be a skeleton this year. I've been plannin' it since last year," I tell him. 

"Oh, really? What were you for Halloween last year?" is Dale's next question. 

Jeez, all this Halloween talk is making me feel excited. I shouldn't be. Halloween ain't even happening this year. But I can't help but feel excited. "Last year, I was Princess Leia from Star Wars. I tried doing the buns myself, but I couldn't do it, so I asked Dad to help, and he said he couldn't do it either. So we went to the neighbor's house across the street, and she helped me," I ramble. It was Jay's momma who helped me that Halloween. She was always nice. 

"That sounds eventful," Dale says, chuckling at my story.

"Yeah. But I got lots of candy that year, so it was totally worth it," I tell him.

We go on like that for a while, me and Dale. We talk about Halloween, and Star Wars, and birds, and books, and Nicki. I like talking to Dale. I always have. He's a good listener. Not everyone listens to me. 

After a little while longer, though, Dale tells me that he has to go talk to Andrea about something, so I let him go. I climb down off of the RV and start walking back to the tent. It's a long walk and really hate that we can't just keep our tent by everybody else's. 

"Dad?" I call out to him when I get there. 

He comes out of the tent with my new hoodie in his hand and gives it to me. "Put that on. It's gettin' cold," Dad says. 

I do as he says and watch as he slings his crossbow over his shoulder. "We goin' huntin' again?" I ask him. I don't really feel like going hunting again, to be honest. 

"Nah. Just wanna go on a walk," Dad replies. That ain't like Dad. If he wants to go on a walk, it's usually to be by himself. But he waited for me here, so I'd come on the walk with him.

But, I don't question him. He starts walking and I follow behind him after I put Nicki in the tent, even though I don't get the point of this. We walk and we walk and we walk, and we keep quiet for some time. He keeps looking back at me, making sure I'm following, and I always am. 

After a little while, I get bored of the silence. I can't stand it anymore. "Dad, what were you for Halloween when you were ten?" I ask him, just because I can't get my mind off of Halloween. 

Dad scoffs out a laugh at that. "You think I remember that?" he asks. I shrug. I remember what I was for Halloween each year. "I probably didn't dress up when I was ten," Dad says.

I furrow my eyebrows upon hearing that. Who wouldn't want to dress up for Halloween? "Well, why not?" I ask over the chirping birds and crunching leaves. 

"Didn't wanna waste money on costumes. Merle would be an asshole 'bout it, anyway," Dad says, chuckling a little at the thought of Merle making fun of him. Merle made fun of me for my costumes, too. 

"Yeah. He's a real jerk sometimes," I say. It's true, and the fact that Merle ain't here no more doesn't change that. We can't act like he was a good person just because he's gone. 

"I know. Shouldn'ta' let him treat you like he did," Dad says bitterly. 

I look down at my boots. I still haven't said that I forgive him for what he did- how he treated me. I don't think I'll ever be able to. 

"I shouldn'ta' let any of the shit that happened happen. Shouldn'ta' let Merle babysit you, should've been checkin' your bag, makin' sure you had shit you needed and didn't have shit you didn't need, should've been more responsible. Even-" he lets out a heavy sigh, "Even when you thought I was bein' good to you, I was still a shitty dad."

I don't even know what I'm supposed to say. He doesn't expect me to forgive him. He's already told me that. So why's he saying all this now?

"Don't know where the hell I'm goin' with this," Dad mutters, rubbing his hand down over his face. I stay quiet and shove my hands into my pockets. "Point is, I'm sorry, and I'mma try like hell to make it up to you, even if it ain't possible. And when I fuck up- 'cause I probably will- you're allowed to get mad at me. You should. And I don't want you thinkin' that ya shouldn't."

He's so confusing. I don't know what his point is or why he's taking me out here on this walk or where we're even going. I don't get it. I don't know if I trust him about making up for it. I don't know if I trust anything he says.

"You're too nice to everyone. Especially me. And I don't want you pretendin' we're all good if we ain't, just 'cause you don't wanna make me feel bad," Dad says. 

"I don't wanna talk about this anymore, Dad," I murmur, not looking in his direction. 

"Alright. We don't gotta. But I just wanna make sure you know, whatever you're feelin', whether ya hate my guts or whatever, it's ok. It ain't your fault and it ain't somethin' you gotta feel sorry 'bout. It's my fault," Dad tells me.

I finally turn my head to look at him again as I say, "Dad."

"Ok. Ok, I'm done," Dad says, holding his hands up to his sides like he's surrendering. 

"Where're we goin'?" I ask him, changing the subject.

"Found an old house when I was out lookin' for Sophia. Looked like a kid your age lived there. Thought you might like some a' the stuff in there," he answers.

That is much more exciting than the talk we were having before. "What kinda stuff is in there?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. 

"Clothes, toys, blankets. Shit you want, shit you need," Dad explains, shrugging his shoulders.

I really, really hope they've got stuffed animals. I miss my blankie my momma gave to me. I know I'm too old for that, but I don't care. I can't hold Nicki when I'm sleeping, 'cause then she'll get all messed up and I don't want her to get messed up. So I need a stuffed animal or something like that. 

"Do they got clothes for Nicki?" I ask hopefully. I already have a lot of clothes for Nicki that Beth gave me, but I'd love some more. 

"Maybe. I didn't do much lookin' around," Dad tells me. 

We walk into a small clearing and I finally see it. The big, old house he was talking about. I start to quicken my steps and hurry over to it, but Dad takes my hand and pulls me back to him. He keeps me behind him as he takes his crossbow off his shoulder. He holds it out in front of him as we approach the house. 

"Thought you said you came here already," I say, confused. 

"Someone else coulda' found it. Can't be too careful," Dad replies. I guess he's right, so I nod. "Stay right by me 'til I say, hear me?" he whispers as we get up to the front door.

"Yeah," I whisper back, hooking my finger through one of his belt loops. He steps inside quickly, his crossbow raised, and I stick right by his side, just like he said to. Slowly and carefully, we go through the whole place until we're sure that it's completely and entirely empty. 

It's a big and beautiful house. I think they must have been rich. They've got a chandelier in their dining room and a big staircase in their entryway. My house didn't even have two floors. It just had one floor. 

My house was nice, though. I miss it. There was the front door, and then the living room, and the living went off into the dining room. On the right of the dining room was the little kitchen and to the left were the bedrooms. Dad let me have the biggest bedroom. I miss my room and all the stuff in it. 

"Ok. C'mon, this way," Dad says. I let go of his belt loop and he leads me to the kid's bedroom. 

When we get into the bedroom, I can't even believe my eyes. "Holy cow," I say, my eyes wide as I let my eyes scan over the entire room. First of all, this room has a loft bed, which I always used to want. Dad said our ceilings weren't tall enough. Second of all, this room is full of toys. Like, more toys than I've ever owned in my entire life. 

"Yeah. These people must've been loaded," Dad says. He's got a small smile on his face, too, even though he doesn't like letting himself smile.  

Looking at all these toys reminds me of Christmas. Dad could only afford a few presents for me, but Santa usually brought five or six. So it all added up to a lot and it was amazing. I wonder if Santa's alright up there, in the North Pole. 

"Hey, Dad?" I say, looking back at my dad from where I've chosen to sit as I look through all the stuffed animals on the bed. He raises his eyebrows. "You think there are walkers in the North Pole? What happens if Santa gets bit? Will Christmas never happen again?" I ask him. 

Dad does the thing where he stares at me, trying really hard to think of what to say. Maybe he just doesn't know. He blows air out the side of his mouth. "Santa... ain't, uh..." Dad trails off for a second, gnawing on his lip. "He ain't really been tellin' me what's goin' on up there, so I don't know," he finally says. 

"Oh. That stinks," I say.

"Yeah," Dad murmurs, chewing his thumb. I turn back to the stuffed animals, trying to decide which one I want to keep. There's too many to keep all of them. "I'mma see if any of the clothes'll fit you," Dad says, walking over to the closet.

Me and Dad spend the next hour or so looking through this room. It takes a whole lot of time because this room is so dang big, but I actually have a lot of fun. Hanging out with my dad is a lot more fun now than it used to be.