Chapter 1: A/N: Hi there! Thanks for clicking on Déjà Vu. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I love writing it!
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"Zoey, come here," I called from the kitchen. "Come get your lunchbox."
"Hold on. I need to get something from my room." I walked out of the kitchen and watched her sprint up the steps. Zoey was seven and starting her first day of second grade. At Rosewood Elementary, the parents come on day one meet the teachers. I remember my first day. Byron practically bombarded my teacher with questions. I was so embarrassed and the girls just laughed.
"I already told you Zoe, you can't bring your Barbies to school."
"I know," She told me as she retreated down the steps. " I wasn't getting Barbie. I was getting this."
She stuck out her hand and held out a tiny photograph.
I stood there, frozen, as I looked at the picture.
How did she find it? I've kept it hidden in my nightstand for 7 years!
Wow. It's been seven years.
Since I left him.
"How did you find that?" I asked, in a bewildered tone.
"I was looking for Barbie's purse." She responded innocently, looking at her shoes. "I know who it is.
"That's a picture of Daddy."
Apparently, Zoey just guessed about her dad, and I believe her. I mean, I've never told her much about her father, just that he was a great man and loved her very much.
I wished I hadn't left him, but I had to. Me, being pregnant in high school? I had to get out of there. And, of course, I couldn't drag Ezra into this mess. It would ruin his whole life. Being with a student, and getting her knocked up nonetheless.
So I did the mature thing, I left him. He called me after that. For months he called, and texted, and left messages. But I never responded. I knew he would want to be a part of Zoey's life, but I knew that by doing that, he would be sacrificing his own. A part of me regrets leaving him every single day, but it's gotten easier. After 7 years, I think the whole in my heart is beginning to mend.
The car ride was mostly silent. Aside from me asking Zoe if she was excited, we sat in the quiet listening to some bad new pop song I cant stand. Wow. I'm such a mom. When did get so old? I'm only 24. Maybe I should call the girls. I haven't seen them in a while.
Truth is, I haven't seen them in 7 years either. When I left Rosewood, I decided the best way to deal with everyone was to cut them off. I regret loosing Hannah, Spencer and Emily, big time. Now that I'm back in Rosewood, I want to catch up, and I'm pretty sure they all still live here.
I parked the car in the school parking lot and started for Zoey's classroom. Zoey squeezed the hand that she was holding and I stopped and turned to her.
"Now listen to me Zoe, I know moving from New York was hard for you. But this is going to be the best year of your life. I have a feeling you will have a great teacher and make lots of new friends. I went to school here, and I survived."
Zoey forced a laugh and smiled, "Okay mommy."
I held the door to her classroom open. When I peered inside, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. I remembered everything. The small area in the back, (where the girls and I played house countless times), and the large chalkboard upfront, now replaced with a whiteboard and a smart-board hung in the middle. I idolized teachers as a kid, and I still do. I wanted to be an English Professor so badly, but my dreams had to yield to the side when Zoey was born. She in my priority now, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love her so much and would do anything for her. Now I'm working as a real estate manager, it pays the bills but isn't anything too special. Hopefully, when she's older, I can go back to school and work my way towards a teacher's degree.
I sat down in one of the plastic chairs with a tiny wooden desk before me. I smiled to Zoey on my right, and watched a man in front of me. He had brown, curly hair and was writing his name on the board. My phone vibrated in my lap. Shit, I forgot to turn it off.
I looked up. Holy Crap is right. Times a million.
Standing before me was Ezra Fitz.
My first love, and my last. And the father of my child.
Beside me, was an open mouthed and wide-eyed second grader, who just realized that her father would be teaching her this school year.
And we're off! I hope you liked it!
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