Disturbed Angels

Chapter Four

 *Recap*

"Any way I was wondering, some of my other friends are having this party tomorrow and I think that you would totally blend right into our crowd. I already invited a few people from here so you won't feel completely out of place." She said casually inspecting the ends of her hair.

"Who's going from here" I asked anxiously. I would make the difference between going and not and despite the tense situation before I kind of wanted to go.

"Alex." She said, looking up from her hair with another one of those wicked smiles. Of course she would invite the one person that I would provide me with a reason for my mother to let me to go. Clever girl.

"And a few of his friends of course" She added quickly.

"I can pick you up from yours if you want." She said with an elegant disinterest.

"I just need your address…"

It was weird. Being asked for my address. Everyone already knew it so no one had really ever had to ask. Shocked I didn't really have any time to think of a remotely intelligent answer.

"Um Sure..." I said digging into my bag for a pen and some paper. I scribbled my address onto it and handed it over. "... Here you go." I said quickly. Gathering myself I tried to behave a little less stiffly. No point in scaring her.

"Don't go stalking me now" I said playfully. It had happened before. She laughed.

"I'll make no promises" She said winking. My dad pulled into the car park, his black car idling up to the curb.

"Looks like my dad is here" I said. “See you round Isabella" I said quickly as I walked away, my head twisted to face her before I slipped into the car. She grimaced at the mention of her full name.

"Eugh, that's such a teacher’s name" She said.

"Please, call me Ivory."

Chapter Four

Once I had closed the car door my dad turned and looked at me, his face scrunched up in worry.

“Who was she?” He asked protectively.

“A friend” I stated back. A smile snuck its way onto my face as I elaborated quickly to my statement. “Well hopefully a friend, I mean she could come to hate me, but we’ll see,” I said softly. He sighed with a laugh.

“Like she could hate you.” He said proudly at me.

“In fact…” he said grandly. “I’m sure she is already mortified that you have not declared her as your best friend already!” He said with a flourish. I laughed at his theatrical voice and clear dramatisation of my self-worth. Humour, I had found, was not an emotion, but rather a preference in word choice, and so fortunately, I had always found sarcasm hilarious.

“I doubt she values my worth quite so highly,” I said dryly with a smirk. My dad laughed at this and pulled away from the curb, driving through the car park and then turned out onto the road.

“True, but she will, especially if your mother has any say in it.” He grumbled. He glanced quickly over at me and sighed.

“She just can’t leave things alone that women, she always has to meddle.” I nodded slowly to the window in agreement. Only to be drawn away from the glass by my dad’s resonating voice.

“BUUUUUT I LOVE HER!” He sang out drumming his hands on the wheel. The wheel, free from my dad’s hands, turned suddenly and we careened into the oncoming traffic, horns blaring at us from startled headlights that gasped at us in shock. Dad quickly, with both hands, gripped the wheel and swung the car back over to the safety of our side of the road, away from immediate death.