I Ate the Apple

Chapter 4

My heart is hammering in my chest ask I kill the engine in my parents driveway.

Nana and Papa's truck is here, and Matt's sedan is here.

"Guys, I wanna go home. I really fucked up with them. Like, beyond repair."

Channing ignores me and gets out, opening my door.

"We're going." He says. "If I have to carry you, I will."

Kathryn and James get out.

"God, I'm gonna be sick.

They all know about my mental issues.

Whether I like it or not, I still have depression and anxiety.

My anxiety is shit.

"We'll be with you the whole time, lovebug." Channing rubs my back. "They're not the same people that raised you. They won't treat you the same."

He's right.

I nod slowly, take a deep breath, and go marching up onto the porch.

It's only ten in the morning.

I let myself in.

I smell sausage.

I like sausage better than bacon.
"Mom?" I call. "Dad?"

I hear a loud clatter in the kitchen as I pull Channing and Kathryn and James in the house.

Kathryn and James have never met my family. Yesterday was their first time meeting Matt.

My parents have never even been to New York City, and I didn't let them come to college graduation because I hated them at the time.

So, when Mom rushes into the living room and sees me standing there.

"Oh god honey!" she pulls me into a tight hug. "Are you okay? You look happy, sweetheart!"

I smile.

"I'm good, Mom."

Dad walks into the living room next, watching me.

They haven't noticed the audience yet.

"Oh, come on, are you staying for breakfast?" Mom asks.

"Yeah, yeah, we're staying."

She catches the we and looks over my shoulder.

She hesitates for a second, and then she looks at me. I bite my lip, smiling.

"Channing!" Mom hugs him. "Oh my god sweetheart, how are you doing?"

"I'm good, Mrs. A. I'm good."

Dad hugs me tightly and then goes, and instead of shaking Channing's hand, he hugs me.

Nana comes in at the mention of my name and Channing's, and she hugs me, and Channing.

Papa follows, and Matt just stands in the entrance, smiling.

Mom is crying so hard.

"Wait." I say before they pull us into the kitchen. "Um...I'm sorry." I whisper. "I've been a real bitch lately, and-"

"Camilla, no." Mom says firmly. "We know you've been having a really hard time." She whispers.

"I know there's a 99.9 percent chance that you already told Channing everything anyways, correct?" Dad asks.