New Girl on the Block

Chapter Eleven: Helena

I gasp softly and shudder at the sound of my name. I take a breath in and smile softly. I shiver from the sharp cold wind blowing me farther against the truck. "We should leave before it gets too cold," Ben says, and then helps me back out of the bed and onto the ground. I try to start helping him with the Christmas picnic, but he quickly waves my hands away and says, "Don't worry, I've got this. Here," he says, handing me the keys, "Get in the truck. I'll be there in a minute." I smile at his kindness, but I was indeed raised better.

"Thank you, but I'd like to help. Please?" I ask, and his eyes soften at the sight of my own. He looks away and sighs. "Fine. You can help. Can you get the tablecloth?" He says, and I give him a look that says Really? I can do more than that. He smirks. I don't argue with him and grab the tablecloth as he adjusts the picnic basket more comfortably in his arms. I wait for him to close the bed gate and then walk around to the passenger side, handing him the keys before parting.

He unlocks the truck with a beep, so I toss the tablecloth in the backseat and then jump into the passenger front seat. Ban follows shortly after me, starting the ignition and cranking the heater up immediately. I try to breathe normally and pretend like I don't feel like an ice block. I'd tossed the blanket with the tablecloth into the backseat, and I can't reach it from the front seat. "Don't worry, she warms up pretty quickly," Ben says, patting the dashboard twice as if for encouragement.

I nod and suppress a laugh. I expect the drive to be awkward and mostly quiet, which some of it is, but for the most part, Ben and I talk about practically anything the entire ride. We enter the neighborhood as Ben is talking about last Christmas when his cousin jumped into the pool when it was sixty degrees outside. I laugh quietly, allowing him to continue on with the story. We pull up to the curb in front of my house.

I turn to look out the window, seeing that Dad's car isn't in the driveway. I glance at the time on my phone as I pick it up off my lap; it's nearly eight-thirty. "Thank you for such an amazing night! And for the ride of course!" I say nervously, awkwardly laughing after I've finished speaking.

"Of course! Wanna do it again sometime?" Ben asks as I see Dad's car slowly pulling up behind us and into the driveway. I glance nervously at it and quickly tell Ben, "Uhm, maybe, yeah. I gotta go, see you tomorrow!" I get out of the truck before he can respond and quickly walk up the path to the front doors and inside the house.

I hear Dad's footsteps behind me as I unlock the front door with my key. "Who was that? Why are you home so late? What are you wearing?!" Dad asks immediately when he walks up to me. "A friend I was hanging out with. What I'm wearing doesn't matter. It's not like I'm in a bathing suit," I say quickly, opening the door. I realize I shouldn't have said those last two things and prepare myself for the lecture, or shouted ridiculing, I'm about to endure.

Dad sighs and says, "Don't talk back to me young lady! And look at me when I'm talking to you!" I turn around and look up at his angry eyes. "What you're wearing does matter! You still live in my house, and you will respect me and my rules! Don't wear anything like this a–" Dad yells, but Mom walks into the foyer and cuts him off.

"What she's wearing is fine Frank! She looks beautiful, and she's finally expressing herself for the first time in almost ten years," Mom pauses to look at me. "Honey, go get ready for bed, please," she says, and I nod. I turn around and walk upstairs and into my bathroom.

After I've taken a shower and changed into red and black plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt, I walk out of my room and into the upstairs hallway. I braid my hair as I walk through the halls, slowing my walk when I hear soft chatters from downstairs.

The chatters evolve into normal talking that evolves into soft shouting that evolves into practically screaming. I stop at the end of the hall that leads to the staircase. I tie my black hair tie around the base of my braid and, knowingly, eavesdrop on my parents' loud conversation.