The Turmoil of Time

Chapter 10 - Damien

I drop off Melanie and then Steve. Once it's only Penny and me left, an uncomfortable silence fills the car.

When we finally arrive at her home, I reach for her hand, "Penny, what's wrong?"

"Your house is a block away from mine."

I squirm, not knowing where this conversation is heading.

"And you dropped me home every day of the week except Monday."

I cautiously say, "I did," But it sounds more like a question.

"So you gave her a lift on Monday night."

I sigh, "Are you upset that I gave Addison a ride home?"

She glares at me, her eyes sharp, "How dare you? You know me better than that. I'm not upset that you gave a stranded girl a ride home." She shakes her head, "What upsets me is that in Tuesday's drama class, you acted as if you were meeting her for the first time in years!"

I bite back whatever I was about to protest because she's right. I could have told her that day that I had met Allison the night before. But I didn't. And I know that makes the whole situation look a whole lot worse than it actually is.

"I know it looks bad–"

"Bad?" She scowls at me, water building up in her eyes, "We've been dating for over a year so I know you and you're not that kind of guy." She can't hold back the tears any longer and they begin to run down her cheeks. One after the other. She takes a breath to calm herself down, roughly wiping her wet face. When she finally speaks, her anguish makes her hushed words that much louder, "I just don't get why you lied."

I'm at a loss for words, because even I don't know the answer to that question.

The easy way out would be to say that Addison didn't want anyone to know I had caught her stealing. But I can't do that to her. Especially since that's not the reason why I hadn't told Penelope.

How do I explain to her that I'm holding on to a friendship that started out as a secret in sixth grade. How do I tell her that now, years later, I still want to stay true to the private nature of that friendship.

Because, even in my head, it sounds a whole lot like bull.

Penny sits there, waiting for me to say something. When I don't, she roughly grabs her backpack, opens the door, and slams it shut.

As she storms off into her house, I wonder why I didn't just tell her on Tuesday.

Why am I still holding onto something I shared with Addison, when even Addison has let go.

Once I'm home, I message Penny another apology. I can't call her because I still don't know what to say. I'm not surprised when I don't get a response. I wasn't really expecting one.

My frustration displays itself in a show of me slamming my bedroom door. Well not exactly slamming. I pull it back just as it's about to shut and quietly close it the rest of the way. After all, Tamara is asleep just a few doors away. I toss my backpack on the bed without even giving it a second thought. There is absolutely no way I will be able to get any work done.

Reasoning with myself that it is a Friday night, I make my way through the quiet house until I reach a locked door. I unhook a silver chain from around my neck, with a small key dangling from it, and unlock the door.

Immediately, I'm greeted by the musty scent of canvas and acrylics.

The walls are lined by shelf upon shelf, all holding different supplies. The wooden floorboards are covered in a tarp that was white when it was first placed. Now, it's masked by the splattering of tertiary colours.