Being Neighborly

Chapter 42

"You didn't confront them at all?" Nicole whisper-screamed across her desk.

"Nicole, did you not just hear me tel you that our class president attacked me in my backyard?" I whisper back to her. It's Monday and our English teacher is giving the same spiel all of our other teachers had done before about last minute sign ups to volunteer for the school's fundraiser carnival this Thursday. I thought this would be a good time to tell Nicole in person what happened after she had dropped me me home.

Well not everything. I am now sworn to secrecy about Tristan and Uncle Luke's involvement with The Underground and their plan to strip ownership away from Brian Johnson, Tristan's father. As much as I wanted to tell Nicole about this, giving her an explanation to what she saw at the club as well as have someone to talk to about it, this information is bigger than me and my own drama. Speaking of...

"That girl is a lunatic," Nicole exclaims quietly as our teacher continues to bribe us with extra credit in exchange for running one of the attractions. "I bet you it's that high ponytail that's giving her brain damage."

I snicker at that comment, but return to being serious again. "I still can't think of any reason why she would fight me. Tristan asked me if it might have to do with Carter or us snooping around into her family history, but I doubt it."

"You never know, they could be like in a long distance relationship and she's just a crazy girlfriend. Or maybe they're cousins. Kissing cousins!"

A few students around us shush Nicole. Her last comment went above a whisper and caught the attention of some people who apparently were actually listening to our teacher. Nicole rolls her eyes and leans closer to me to give us more privacy. Or as much as you can get in a class full of 30 kids. Well 29, Tristan is absent despite having picked me up this morning. 

"Since we're on the topic of Carter, have you gotten anymore threatening emails from him?" Nicole asks.

"No, nothing since the last one."

The English lesson finally begins so we turn to face the front of the room. The rest of the class, as well as the rest of the school day, went by without much excitement. However, every time I turned a corner, I was terrified of bumping into Katy. Fortunately for me, it looks like her perfect attendance has come to a stop since she seems to not be in school today.

I did run into Tristan later on. He seemed a bit disheveled, very unusual for him. Then again, I do know that he's stressed about his father being released from jail and trying to take over The Underground after all the work Tristan and my uncle have put into making it a safer place for guests.

"Hey, are you okay?" I ask him, falling in step with his long strides to our next class.

"He wants to move back in," Tristan's eyes seem zombie-like, as if he's not really present. 

"You and your mom are not going to let that happen though," I reassure him. "You told me yourself, your mom doesn't take crap like that anymore."

"Yeah, but that was also when he was out of the picture and she was free to do whatever she wanted without living in fear of him," he replies, his anger building slowly and visibly. I grab his clenched fist and force him to hold my hand as we continued to walk down the hall. That seems to calm him down a little bit. "My father can be very convincing. It wouldn't surprise me if he somehow persuaded someone in the prison to let him out on his so-called good behavior. HE's probably trying to contact my mom now to sweet talk her into letting him stay with us."

"That's why you weren't in class for half the day," I say out loud, realizing the reason for his absence. "You were keeping an eye on your mom."

"I was until she wasn't taking any of my crap and said there was no way I was going to sacrifice my education to babysit her," the corner of Tristan's mouth turns up a little bit in a small smile talking about how stubborn his mom can be. The smile fades as quickly as it had appeared when he continues, "I know she's strong, and she knows she's strong. But my father... he's stronger."

I squeeze his hand in mine, silently letting him know that everything will be fine. I don't know that for sure, but I need to pretend it's the most certain thing in the world while I can. I need to be strong for him, as much as he has been for me.

~~~~~~~~

Tristan drives up to the curb in between out two houses and stops the car. He seems hesitant about letting me out. Or maybe it's about going into his house alone because he's not sure what he's going to be walking into.

"I'll come with you," I tell him, looking into his eyes. He just nods in response and continues to his driveway where he parks. We sit in the car for a while, but eventually he finds the courage to get out. I've never seen him like this before. He's timid, fearful, so unsure of himself. If this is what his father being back does to him, I hope Brian stays away for good.

We enter his house and hear his mom laughing. That has to be a good sign. We follow the soft conversation to the living room where we find Tristan's mom and Aunt Clara. And the rest of the book club. 

"Hi, darlings!" his mom says, getting up from her spot on the couch to give Tristan a little peck on the cheek. She gives me a quick hug and starts leading us to the kitchen. "Do you guys want a snack? I know you still have studying to do for midterms, but you need fuel, too."

"I thought book club was meeting this Saturday?" I question, a bit confused as to why Aunt Clara didn't mention a change in her schedule. She's been so busy with making baked goods to donate to the carnival fundraiser that every day she was verbally grateful she had more time to read her book. 

"Mom, you can't just move around the book club schedule so you have a shield against dad," Tristan states, taking a cookie from the tray his mom was pushing towards us.

"Don't be ridiculous, that's not what I am doing," she replies, but her voice wavers a bit. 

Oh. 

Oh no. Tristan was right. She doesn't feel safe being alone on the chance that her husband would return. But she won't ever admit that because she needs to be strong for her and Tristan. She's been doing it ever since Brian was arrested and doesn't want to stop. 

"Of course that's not what she's doing," I say, munching on a cookie, trying to give his mom some of the credit she so deserves. "Can't she have her friends over without some other agenda behind it? Now come on, Tristan, you have a lot of history to teach me if I am every going to pass this semester." I quickly drag him out of the kitchen before he can call me out. 

I think he realized trying to get her to admit what she was doing was making her feel bad; we both caught the grateful expression on her face after I had started refuting Tristan's previous statement. We didn't mention it for the rest of the night and focused on preparing for midterms. 

Between studying, snack breaks, and debating which one of our teachers would win a reality TV show competition, I was exhausted by the time I had to leave. Surprisingly, Tristan was in a better mood than he was when we first arrived at the house. I think all the distractions helped ease his worries and forget all the adult shit he was dealing with. 

He walked me to the front door and leaned down to kiss me goodnight. I kissed his soft lips back with more force, wanting to take away any residual pain, hurt, fear, stress, worry, or sadness he was experiencing from the past few days. Tristan matched my pressure, seeming to want to do the same.

The Underground. Carter. His Father. Katy. The emails. His mom's safety. My assault. His past. My past. Everything we had been dealing with since we met swirled around us in a heavy cloud. But being close to him made everything seem okay, even when it wasn't. And that's okay. 

Tristan's phone started buzzing, breaking us away from bliss. He stared at the screen, his green eyes filling with hatred and tears. Suddenly, he whips the phone past my head and it smashes onto the front walk. The moonlight glints off the shattered glass that scattered the concrete. There's only one person that could have been calling to get that reaction out of Tristan.

Brian Johnson.