That Was Then

56-Now

Caleb can't drive us because he's been drinking so we sit outside while he figures out how to get us home. He types at his phone and I hear multiple texts being sent off. Tears drip down my cheeks, gathering in the corners of my mouth. I can taste the salt from them, it's better than the taste of the bile threatening to come up my throat.

"Say something," his back is to me but at the sound of my voice he turns, running his hand down his face and sighing loudly.

"What was the point of that Blakely?!"

I throw my hands up in the air for lack of anything to say. Turning, I walk a few steps, pause and then walk a few steps back. "Seriously? Did you hear what she said about you? About us?"

"I don't care about that. I don't care if all of them know that Abuela works for your family!" He takes my face in his hands, "I don't care what Kya Dillard says about me or us! I know who I am. I know what we have, that's what matters!" How can he not understand that I was defending him?! I'm furious and want to turn away from him, he seems to sense this and drops his hands from my face to my shoulders, holding me there in front of him. But I look at the ground instead of his face. I don't want to see the disappointment that I know must be there.

"Blakely-" he starts but I am quite literally saved by the bell. Or rather, saved by the sirens. Blue and red lights light up the sky as a cop car pulls up at the end of the long driveway. I remember belatedly Vivi telling me weeks ago that Jackson's parties always get busted. "Shit, lets go!" Caleb goes back into the house, expecting me to follow. I head around the back instead. The last thing I need after everything that already happened tonight is a juvenile record. I'd rather walk home.

Walking along the back of the tall wooden fence of Jackon's neighbors' house, a dog yips and barks at me. I imagine a puffy little Pomeranian with a diamond collar around it's neck based on the look of the house looming above me. To the right there is a steep hill that looks like it would be rather painful to fall down so I keep my left hand on the fence, navigating my way out of Jackson's neighborhood.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, Caleb's handsome face pops up on the screen and I let it just keep buzzing until his face disappears. The display says that it is not quite one in the morning. I type my address into Google Maps and am disappointed to find that I have quite a walk ahead of me. I also happen to have a lot of thinking to do.

I thought I would feel better after finally confronting Kya, but I don't. I feel sick to my stomach and it's not from the alcohol. Not entirely anyway. I thought all of her friends needed to know who she really was. Even if they do look at her differently now, I'm pretty sure they'll be looking at me differently too.

My pocket buzzes again and again but I know that it's Caleb so I ignore it. That's not really fair to him, he didn't do anything wrong but I just don't know what to say to him right now. Finally, after seven missed calls, I send him a text that I'm okay. Selfishly, I don't even think to ask if he's okay. At least if he's trying to call still that means he's not cuffed in the back of a cop car.

A car slows next to me, interrupting my thoughts and a guy pokes his head out of the passenger's window. "Hey pretty girl," he slurs. I keep walking, not even bothering to look in their direction. Not too far ahead is a gas station and I'm pretty sure that I can outrun the guy if he gets out of the car. I just hope it's open.

"Hey!" He shouts again, "I'm talking to you, girl!" Rolling my eyes, I turn to wave an acknowledgement but continue walking.

"Want a ride?" The driver shouts, sounding just as drunk as his buddy.

"No thanks," I say without turning to look at them, wanting them to just go away.

"C'mon baby, let us give you a ride!" The car swerves close to the sidewalk, too close so I walk in the grass next to it and pick up my pace.

"Yeah baby, ride this!" Out of the corner of my eye I see the passenger standing up in the car with his junk hanging out the window. Breaking into a run, I veer into the parking lot heading toward the gas station. They peel off, tires squealing and obnoxious laughter pouring from the open window.

At this point, I've been walking for nearly and hour and have not made much progress. I am tired, my head is starting to pound and my feet hurt. With several more miles to go, I swallow my pride and pull out my phone.

"Hello?" A sleepy voice answers on the fourth ring.

"Dad?" I choke out, "can you come get me?"