The Writer Who Couldn't Write

Assumptions

And he tormented me the rest of the day. No matter how many times I told him to bug off, he would keep asking if I had changed my mind yet. But I would not give in to his pleas!

We now stood on the side walk in front of the school. School is out and he's yet to let me be. "You need a ride?"

"I'd rather get a ride from a perfect stranger than listen to you ask me that same blasted question all the way home." I added, "Besides, I don't want you knowing where I live. It just sounds like a bad idea."

"You do know that no one is perfect, right?" I nod, confused by what he's trying to get at. "Then how could this stranger you'd rather get a ride from be perfect?"

"It's a figure of speech, you dummy." I remind him, rolling my eyes.

"Of course it is. Now do you need that ride or not?"

"No, my mom is picking me up, and trust me when I say it won't look good for you to give me a ride home." I give him a look saying not to ask and just believe. That's what they put in all the movies today, right?

"Why wouldn't it look good?" He completely ignores me.

"Because you don't." I deadpan.

"That's offensive, Princess!" He exclaims. "But really, why?"

"Because my parents assume things they don't know anything about. Especially other people's relationships. Especially mine."

Well, isn't this awkward? How is it that you always get yourself into these kind of situations? Tsk, tsk. My brain chides.

It's not like you help anything, so you can just stop it. I retort.

"Ah, so you don't have a good relationship with your parents, I take it." He says cautiously.

"You could say that." And that was the end of that conversation. "Oh, my mom is here. Bye!"

"Yeah, see ya!" He grins.

"Don't be so certain about that!" I call over my shoulder.

"Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't want to see me tomorrow." His smile grows.

"At least you can figure some things out." I congratulate him on his growth, and wave good bye.

In the car as we drove away...

"Who was that, Delilah?" My mother asked in an accusatory tone.

"An acquaintance. We had an art project together." That no one else had to do, I added silently. "And guess what? We both got A's for this quarter." I try to dissuade her from the obvious journey her train of thought was taking.

"You two must work well together." I set myself up for that one.

"Or the project was easy." I suggest.

"To get A's for the rest of the quarter, I doubt it." She had a point, but I wasn't going to let her ruin another one of my innocent friendships.

"You don't know Mr. Eloguant. He is straight outta France and a little on the crazy side. If you know what I mean." I try to talk to her like any other normal person. "Of course, don't tell him I said that."

"But still, you know what I mean Delilah, I don't want you hanging out with boys. They're stupid, remember?" She always had an excuse. It's not that she's one of those women who are super feminist or anything, she just wanted to protect me. I get it, but sometimes she goes a little too far.

"Tell me about it." I say rolling my eyes at everything I've been through with Timothy. "But it's fun to sit there and laugh at their stupidity."

"Just don't hang out with him anymore? Your project is done and you got a good grade, that's all, do you hear me?" She asks as we almost pass the YMCA.