Beneath Your Beautiful

Charlie

"Why can't you do it?" I ask Meredith.

"Because you're the teenager and I'm the adult," Meredith responds as she opens the liquor cabinet to pour herself a drink.

"Hardly," I huff under my breath.

She takes a swig of whiskey from her glass and rolls her eyes at my comment. 11 o'clock on a Thursday morning and she's already drinking.

"Just go!"

I groan and pause my very intense game of COD.

Meredith dangles the envelope in front of her and I snatch it from her, almost ripping it in half.

"Oh and by the way, my dad called. He wants his life back." I yell over my shoulder before slamming the door.

***

I step up onto the porch and ring the doorbell cautiously. The door opens a few seconds later to reveal a short blonde girl who is still in her pajamas. Her green eyes widen when she sees me and I can't help but feel a little uncomfortable under her gaze.

"Um, hi. Do you live here?" I ask without looking at her.

"Hi, um uh...no I don't. El does though, um... wait right here?" She half asks, half tells me. And she's gone before I can answer.

Oh my gosh. Girls these days I tell you.

As I wait, I step back to look at the house. It's big, much bigger than ours. The siding is bright white and there are flowers planted along the foundation of the house.

After a minute or so, I ring the bell again. This time, it is a brown haired girl with beautiful brown eyes who answers.

"Hi," she says so quietly that I'm barely sure she said anything at all.

She's embarrassed and I can tell. I smirk.

"You live here?" I point to the house.

"Yeah," she keeps my gaze for a few more seconds and when it finally breaks, her eyes travel over my body for a while and I let them.

"Well, this," I show her the envelope, "was delivered to my house instead of yours."

It's news to her that my family, well not exactly family, had moved into a house down the road. Which is kind of surprising considering how many moving trucks have been down her street in the past four days.

"El is it?" I ask her, remembering what the blonde girl had said.

"Eleanor, yeah," she replies. "And you?"

"Charlie. Charlie Hammond." I reach out to shake her hand. She grabs it and I notice something on her right wrist. Some things more like.

"Nice to meet you, Charlie," she smiles and lets go of my hand.

"Same to you, Eleanor," I turn to leave with a smile, but it fades as a million questions flood my mind.

***

"Charlie, would you like to say grace?" My father's voice interrupts my daydream.

When I look up, my father and Meredith, his stuck up, alcoholic bitch of a girlfriend, are staring at me.

"Sure," I reply as I fold my hands together and place them in my lap.

I glance at Lance who has his arms crossed over his chest and is rolling his eyes.

"Lance," my father warns.

My little brother throws his hands up in surrender and then folds them in his lap.

I close my eyes and begin.

"Dear father, thank you for this delicious food you have prepared before us. Thank you for the love and kindness you give when Lance and I can't get it from anyone else. Amen."

"Amen!" Lance chuckles. He's the only one in the room who was amused by my prayer.

I stifle a laugh and I take a bite of my chicken leg.

I can feel my father and Meredith staring at me, but I don't look up from my food.

We eat in silence for a while until my father clears his throat.

"Lance, your mother and I would like to talk to your brother for a few minutes," he says calmly.

"She's not my mother," Lance replies, glaring at Meredith.

I bite my tongue.

"Upstairs, now." My father demands in a tone that frightens both my brother and me.

It doesn't take any more persuading.

When I'm sure Lance is in his room, I push my plate away and stare across the table at my father.

"We need to talk," he huffs.

"I'll talk to you. Not her," I nod my head towards Meredith without looking at her.

"Don't be rude, Charlie," he says.

"No, I'll go," Meredith states before leaving the dining room.

I mentally thank her for leaving without an unneeded argument.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Charlie?" My father slams his fist onto the table, making the dishes rattle.

"You know exactly what the hell is wrong with me," I raise my voice. "Ever since you brought that bitch home, she's all you care about."

"That's not true!" He opposes.

"Oh, bullshit. I'm 18, I can take care of myself, but Lance is 13. He already lost his mother before he even got the chance to know her. He needs a father. He needs a father who takes him to football games and gives him advice about girls. Not a father who works all day and stays out all night with his whore girlfriend," I push myself out of my chair, not able to sit still anymore.

"Don't you dare call her a whore!" He screams at me. He's inches from my face now and he's boiling with anger.

"What are you gonna do? Ground me? Take away my car? You're never home so you wouldn't even know if I left for the night. You need me to give Lance rides in my car because you're never here to take him to baseball practice or to take him to hangout with his friends!" I scream at him and I don't care if Eleanor can hear me from down the street.

"I'm trying, Charlie," he tone softens and his anger turns into sadness. No, not sadness. Pity.

"Try harder," I yell. With that, I grab my car keys and speed off down the road.

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*Next chapter will be posted by the end of the weekend*)