LILY WHITE

NINE

LILLIE

We've just gotten home. My shorts are still wet and it's began to make me cold. At the front door, I cross my arms to keep myself warm, I look to Tommy.

I see him already looking at me, his skin is tinted yellow from the streetlights that light the night. His freckles are highlighted, I take a moment to appreciate them.

The voices are quiet now, there is no one speaking inside of the house. It's awfully silent.

Tommy's parents have gotten home while we were gone, their car is in our driveway. Another hint to knowing that it's peaceful enough to go inside.

Sometimes I am grateful for having neglectful parents. It means I have the freedom I need to do anything I want. I can open our door without worrying about punishment. I can't imagine ever worrying about punishment. But Tommy can.

The revelations of the creek have not left my head, not at the shops, not during the ride home, they will never leave my head.

I've never seen Sarah or Jon in that way, I've never expected Tommy either. It's strange, how something could seem so fine on the outside but be as shattered as an old porcelain doll. It's strange, how well hidden this was, it makes me wonder what lengths Jon has gone to make sure it doesn't get out to the world that he is despicable. It makes me wonder if Tommy has confided in anyone else to tell this to. I'm grateful that Tommy didn't mention Karlie, I hope it's because she doesn't have her part.

I am not looking forward to seeing Jon for the rest of the summer. Instead, I will hate him for as long as he comes here.

I do not see him at home, I figure they must be sleeping. Tommy and I walk upstairs, go straight to our rooms. I take a hot shower, it is not until I am inside that I realize how cold I am. The cold wetness that lay against my skin turns into steam and it feels like fire defrosting the ice leftover from winter.

I stay in the shower longer than I should have, I spend a good amount of it watching the steam fog up the room, seeing the water land on my body and roll off when it gets too heavy to carry itself.

Once I get out I change into a green satin night dress and tuck my freshly washed hair behind my ears. My room is dark and my sheets look like clouds as they lay in my bed, but I'm weirdly not tired.

I look for a book to read before discovering that I have nothing I want to read. No book looks interesting enough or I have already read it. I catch my guitar in the corner of my room, but the house is too quiet to play or to sing.

Collapsing in my bed and closing my eyes is what I do now, trying to sleep. My limbs are tired from swimming all day and my eyes burn from the water that seeped into them. My nails are fragile from the moisture and I should be exhausted.

I'm not exhausted.

I sit up, get a drink of water from my nightstand, stare at the canopy, eye the market bag on the floor by the window. My Camel Golds are ever so slightly peeking out the top. I should get rid of them.

I'm climbing on my roof again, a place where I've found peace, come to terms with the view. I light the cigarette and it stays in between my middle and index.

I don't put it to my mouth or by my face, and I don't know why, but at the same time I do. It reminds me of my father. For a moment I'm scared of getting caught but then there's also nothing to be afraid of. If anything he'll be happy that I finally took his example, maybe one day I can own a law firm too. My mother would only care if I was smoking inside the house.

I rest my head against the wall behind me, play with my lips, the fingers on my free hand pressing them. I close my eyes, and I leave a second for me to think.
I think about music one second, about school the next, Tommy keeps popping in and out when I want him out. I'm thinking about lyrics for my next song, chords I can play to make a new melody. Tommy pops up, I shove him out. I think about what classes to take next year, if I should do literature or language. Tommy is there again. My eyes squeeze tighter.