One Big Cliché

Chapter 8

Dustin

          I shut my car off and just sit there, dreading going into Nicole's house. She was so snappy yesterday, after what happened. She was sweaty and breathless and irritable, and it was kind of hot. It just sucked being told I was hopeless at Calc and that it's really not that hard, I'm just dumb. It was really encouraging. Absolutely inspiring work.

          I really don't want to be here. I feel like it's pointless for me to be here. But I mainly don't want to be here because Donavin kept tossing sweet potato fries at her table during lunch today, even though Tyler wasn't even there, and I swear Nicole glared at me just as much as she glared at him. That Goth girl was about to start throwing back, but Chris got Donavin to stop before she did.

          Why did Nicole have to open her mouth that first day? None of this would be happening if she had just kept her mouth shut.

          Slowly, my hand reaches for my handle as I stare at the red car I'm parked behind, and then the black junker beside it. Did she forget I was heading over today? Practice got out a bit early, so maybe her friend just hasn't left yet. Grunting, I grab my backpack from the back seat, force myself to get out of the car, and make my way to her front door.

          I hear loud voices that cut off when I knock, and Nicole answers the door, swinging it open angrily. She's covered in drying sweat, her hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, wearing yoga pants and a red sports bra. I lift my eyebrows at her bare abdomen and adjust the strap on my shoulder.

           She stares at me in horror, but before she can speak a voice behind her asks, "Another one? Already? Nicole, your father will be extremely disappointed in you. Do they know about each other? Are you at least staying safe? I hope you aren't trying to get pregnant."

          I lean forward, looking past Nicole to see a blonde woman with bright red lipstick standing next to a guy with dark hair. It's short on the back and sides but still falls into his eyes. He looks around my age. Nicole's boyfriend? He doesn't even glance at me, just leers at Nicole's ass. Not her boyfriend, I note, as she turns and catches him staring, her shoulders hunching and her arms crossing over her chest.

          If Chris were here, he would have done something about that. I don't know what, exactly, but something. Maybe he would have told the guy to look up. Maybe he would have edged between the two. I don't do a single thing, though, but watch.

          The woman shakes her head disappointedly, "Maybe it isn't a good idea for me to leave you alone with Jake. It's bad enough you walked down here without a shirt, knowing he'd be here. You shouldn't tease, Nicole, it's dangerous for a girl to dress slutty around boys."

          Her face flushes and she turns to the woman, who I'm starting to assume is her stepmom. "I already told you! I thought he was gone! I just came down for a glass of water! Jeez."

          "There's no reason to raise your voice at me, Nicole," the woman frowns. The way she speaks seems fake. Like she's reciting a script. Or like she's saying these things specifically to get under Nicole's nerves.

          Nicole ignores her and grabs my arm, swiveling me around and tugging me out the door.

          Her stepmom calls out after us as we march down the porch steps. "Your father won't like hearing that you left with a boy and were not wearing a shirt!"

          I try not to admire the angry sway of her hips as she leads me to my car. She lets go of me. "Come on, we're studying at your house."

          Not gonna lie, I'm a bit scared when we get to my car. I flinch when she slams the door shut, but I manage to swallow down my comment about her being disrespectful to my beautiful baby. Instead, I just put the key in the ignition, but pause before I turn it to glance at Nicole's stepmom who's standing in front of that guy, a hand on her hip as she stares at Nicole. Then I look to Nicole, who's staring back, arms crossed as she slumps in her seat. Her eyes start to redden, and I tear my gaze away, fumbling awkwardly with my seat belt. Oh, please don't cry. Don't do that to me.