Creatures Of Habit

11 {Margot} 11

It was like I was in a trance when I followed him to his car, climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in. We just drove. I didn't even know what turns he took, what way we went. He could've been driving me to the forest to murder me and I wouldn't have had a clue. Earlier when I left, I told mom that I was going to go see Lily but really, I had just wanted to get out of the house because the kids were home and they were loud and my parents had been arguing and I couldn't focus.

Someone had called Dad. Again. It was always an unregistered number and my mom automatically resorted to her favorite accusations. Either my dad was cheating on her or he owed someone a lot of money. I didn't know who he would owe money too since what he earned as an appliance repairman made just enough for us to be okay and I didn't know when he would have the time to cheat, since he was always working in his makeshift shop in the garage. It had been the only work he was able to get after what happened. Nobody trusted an innocent man who looked guilty. Even if I wasn't so sure he was innocent. Even if my dad was essentially a cuddly brown teddy bear who only fit kindness and soda in his body.

Instead of sticking around to listen to my poor father wearily defend himself, I threw on some jeans, a sweater, and boots, put on some light makeup and decided to ride my bike and take Danica her homework which I had taken home by mistake. Had I wanted to run into James? I don't know. I wasn't sure why I would want that. I didn't know him. I had pretended I didn't know him when Tina introduced us like strangers. That's what we were, wasn't it? But I had spoken to him like he was a friend. I hadn't even known myself in that moment. The type of girl I am is quiet, reserved, logical and hates surprises. Spontaneity? Yeah, that isn't in my blood, and yet here I was riding in a car with a boy I'd essentially known of half my life but didn't really know at all. But we drove and he played music that I liked and the air outside was nice and he rolled down the window when I rolled mine down and he laughed at a joke I made and he was easy to talk to. And it was scary.

When we finally got to a park I didn't recognize, the light was dying. The drive had been a little under an hour long and the park was full of people that we didn't know because, I realized, we were still supposed to be strangers. We were still playing the part to the world and nobody could know that it was a lie. On whatever level and whatever dimension he and I had already cross that line, that impossible barrier. The one that was supposed to divide people like him and people like me and here we were sitting together watching as others gathered around us, not even giving us a cursory glance.

Large telescopes were strategically set up pointed skyward across the grass.

"What is all this?" I asked as we climbed out of the car and walked towards the lawn.

"Star gazing," he said simply and pointed to a large sign that read "Starry Night Gazers" next to a sign in table where people were lined up to pay the entry fee. My heart sank. I didn't have any money. I told him so but he just laughed, pulled his wallet out, and gave the girl twenty dollars so we could get in. I made a mental note to repay him the next time I saw him. The girl at the table gave us a bracelet and a map of the constellations we would find then told us to go to telescope 17.

"How did you know about this place?" I looked up at him trying to hide my surprise. James Shepard was not someone I would associate with giving a damn about what was above us. He was supposed to be the kind of person who only cared about what was directly in his line of sight.

"They've been holding this event for the past month. I think tonight is the last night," he said. "Nobody I know would appreciate it. Thought maybe you would." He blushed a little and looked away from me. Of course he would think I would. Not that he was wrong, but to everyone at school I was an easy to read, easy to dismiss, boring instructional manual of a person. No great depth, no great adventures. It was only fair that he categorized me when I had already done so to him.