Outcast

3.0

June 5, 1992 4:48 pm

I SIT ON MY BED, scribbling world history notes into my notebook, my hand flying across the pages, aching to finish, when I hear the downstairs phone ring. We only had one phone in the house which could mean only two things. Either Kyle was calling or telemarketers/solicitors, because no one really ever called my dad. I'd be surprised if he had any friends. I hoped it was Kyle calling, because after a couple of days spent alone and with nobody to talk to except for Dean, who seemed to detest me, I realized I was overreacting and my decision to ignore him was hot headed and rash.

I pick up the phone and wait for a greeting on the other end.

"Hey." The voice on the other side says. I begin to think it is Kyle and a wave of relief washes over me until the person continues to speak and I realize that it is Dean. I roll my eyes and start to shut the receiver when I hear him ask, "Would you mind coming over?  We don't have a lot of time to complete this project and I'm aiming for an A." I hear him trying to hide irritation in his voice, but I ignore it  and oblige to his request.

"Come over at 5." He says.

"Wait I don't even know where you-"

"855 East Evergreen Drive." He interrupts before slamming the receiver shut.

"855 East Evergreen Drive." I repeat to myself. How did he even get my home number?

He lives relatively close to my house, probably a 15 minute walk. I grab all of the materials needed to complete the project, and throw them into my backpack, which I sling over my shoulder, and walk out of the house. I see the sun still high in the sky which meant that the days were becoming more elongated, a common indication that summer was slowly approaching.

I reach Dean's house just ten minutes after 5, and I knock on the tall mahogany door before me. I wait a few seconds before I hear impending footsteps, and the door swings open. I wait for a greeting but I receive none, so I slide off my shoes and meekly enter the house.

"You're late." Dean says, this time not even attempting to hide the agitation in his voice.

"I'm aware." I quietly respond, gazing at the crystal chandelier that hung above my head.

"What took so long?" He asks as if I had been hours late. I walk deeper into his house as he leads me to the second floor. My eyes dart around to the living room which was probably bigger than my house alone. The walls were painted a light creme color. There is a long brown couch in the center of the room adjacent to the big window, which has dark chestnut curtains that conceal any light that entered. Alongside the couch is an armchair on each side of it. Sprawled out on top of the dark hardwood floor was a delicate white rug that seemed to have cost more than my father's car, with a small spotless, glass coffee table on top of it. Dean seemed to notice my bewilderment at the sight of such a big house completed with expensive, and lavish decorations, but he remained silent as we began our ascent to his room.

"Do you have the materials we need to-"

"Yes." I interrupt, as he opens the door to his room which was broad compared to the rest of the house. In the center of the room was a queen sized bed with a lead colored comforter. His walls were gray, and he had black curtains that covered the window, not allowing any light to enter, similar to the living room. In the corner of the room he had a wooden desk painted white completed with a black leather desk chair. He had a TV much like Kyle's placed on a shelf in front of the bed. Any decorations were absent in his room, but it was very tidy and well-kept.

I find a spot on the open floor and take out the rolled up poster board we needed and my pencil case. I unroll it as Dean sits directly across from me taking his biology spiral out of his bag and flipping it to the pages of neatly written research we did. We carry on working and designing the poster for 20 minutes in silence when he says, "Do you mind making a rough sketch? I'm terrible at drawing...." I nod my head politely and take out my sketchbook, flipping through pages of sketches until I reach a blank one. I see Dean gaping at me, "You drew those?"