CHANGES [eric matthews]

The Wrong Side Of The Tracks

↳CHAPTER 2.9
The Wrong Side Of The Tracks.
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『 "Oh, I'll show you anger!"』
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BECKETT RUBBED HER EYES tiredly as she leaned against her bike. She was waiting for Wyatt outside of his little art school across town, very aware of how tired she was. The last few days she hadn't been sleeping or focusing well, and upon telling Wyatt so, he had suggested they go to his house so his mom could 'Cleanse her aura', whatever that meant.

She'd been over to the Sullivan household once before, early in the fall. It was a small, warm home that was full of blending, vibrant colors, and overgrown plants at every corner. One of the bathroom walls had a mural of the redwood forest, and there was a floorboard in the middle of their living room with a handprint of each of the family members. It smelt like pumpkins when she had been there, the trail of incense finding it's way into her nose, and making her feel perfectly at home.

She was excited to go back, remembering that sense of belonging she felt that's she desperately longed for. Or maybe it was the tiredness getting to her.

Wyatt definitely reflected the home he grew up in, always being sweet, humble, and a little blunt here and there. Beck remembered thinking his mom was a tad eccentric, but she was getting really desperate at this point.

A pair of hands went over her eyes and a voice found it's way into her ears, "Wakey wakey, sunshine!"

Beck blinked tiredly and pulled the hands away, a slightly irritated look on her face, "I wasn't sleeping."

Wyatt raised his hands in mock offense, "Woah there, crazy girl.. someone's grumpy."

Wyatt's way of speaking made Beck smile, no matter how hard she tried to hide it, including this time. Wyatt grinned at this and took ahold of the girl's bike,

"Here, I'll put this in the back of my car." He said warmly, guiding it through the small parking lot. They approached a dark green mustang that was rusting and looked about thirty years old.

Wyatt shoved the bike in his trunk—with lots of difficulty— and they were off in no time. By the time they had gotten to the Sullivan residence, Beck could swear the bags under her eyes had doubled in size.

It was just like she remembered it, only the giant plant by the front door had grown longer, it's vines finding it's way up the wall.

It no longer smelt like pumpkins, but a soft lavender that was a reminder of the approaching spring. Fernando by ABBA was floating gently from the kitchen, which Wyatt lead his friend to.

"Mama, Beck's here." He called out casually, sending his friend a wink. The girl gave him a sleepy smile.

"Oh, hey, Beckett!" Mrs. Sullivan beamed when she saw the girl. She had long, flowing black hair, messy bangs settling over her green eyes and freckled cheeks. She wore a brightly patterned maxi skirt and a simple tank top, and was holding sage. Wyatt resembled her greatly, and it was obvious where he got his personality from, "How are you feeling, doll?"

Beck shrugged, "Really tired, but I still can't sleep, I don't know what it is."

"I have just the thing." Mrs. Sullivan skipped to a cupboard in the corner of the room, pulling out what looked like a tea bag, "My special recipe!" Beck sent her friend a look as inconspicuously as she could, but Mrs. Sullivan unfortunately saw, her eyes going wide, "Oh they're just herbs! The stronger stuff is for adults." She pat the girl's head and held up a finger, before skipping out of the room.

"She means-"

"I think I got it." Beck cracked a smile.

Mrs. Sullivan re-entered the room a moment later with a box, setting it on the kitchen counter, "Here." Beck and Wyatt peered in, seeing dozens of cassettes sitting with messy writing. "These are my meditation tapes! They'll help you sleep. Take your picks! I'll be cleansing around the house if you need me." The woman showed off her sage again, gave her endearing son a kiss on the head, and left the room once more.