Transversals

XI. Confrontations

"Harley, come down for dinner!" Dad calls. I finish writing the current date at the bottom of the notebook page and a note off to the side: November 2. Stopping Point--after the first monster fight with Ben.

"Harley Harley Harley!" Hanna cheers, little stomps getting closer and closer to my room. She bursts in and doesn't hesitate to grab a hold of my hand, giggling.

I shut my notebook before she dragged me off, lightly laughing along as well. "Where are you taking me, Hans Solo?"

"To food!" she cheers again, fist held up like Superman. We came into the kitchen and she let go, running around and grabbing juice from the fridge. Will and Dad are talking to one another at the table in low voices, stopping once spotting me.

Will waves, and then holds up a dish of mac & cheese. "I had my mom make your favorite."

I smile sadly and slip into my seat, making sure to keep my sleeves down. "Thanks."

It was all so wrong though; it's just not what it seems. I'm not depressed, necessarily. Not enough for what the proof shows, but from harsh realities as to what actually happened and the fact no one would ever be able to believe me. I had been jotting down notes of the past month nonstop in the notebook to outline what happened for the psychiatrist at my next visit that Saturday.

I know she'll take it as a dream journal or a simple document of my supposed "hallucinations", but I tried to list as many details as I could. So many that there was no doubt I couldn't make up what I experienced. I don't know what telling her would do, but I prayed it'd help me start moving on.

___

We didn't get home until late that night. Not insanely late. 8:30, which was the regular curfew on school nights with Will, except I had been out for hours with a person that wasn't Will. Dad was always a stickler for strict curfew, and I didn't exactly mind. I liked getting a lot of sleep.

"So the swords don't actually exist?" I asked. "Park along the curb, here."

Ben stopped a driveway short of mine, turning to me with a questionable expression. "Here?"

"Yeah," I said, checking my phone. it was 8:23, so I had time for just a few more answers from him. "Swords?" I asked again, unbuckling the seatbelt and curling up on the seat.

Ben shut the car off and stretched his shoulders, wings restricted by his coat, as if he was actually human for once. "Hollywood fabrication made legit. Ninjatos are said to be completely fictional."

"Why a straight-edged samurai sword?" I questioned further.

"We don't wield them on our backs, so there's no need for curvature," he simply replied, opening the door and getting out.

My heart slowed to a stop, completely forgetting my intrigue with the swords. There would be no confrontation between him and my Dad, if that's the ludicrous notion he was having this very moment. Was it? Was he really walking--oh no.

I hastily got out as well and ran up to him, blocking his path in the sidewalk outside my house. "Whoa there, what are you doing?"

"I was going to walk you to the door?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

I gently pushed him back towards his car. "Over my dead body will you meet my dad."

Ben laughed and spun, making me stumble, headed up the drive to my house again. "He's going to ask you anyway."

I ran and tried to stop him again, but he just pushed on past me up the porch steps, to the front door. I pushed on him again and again to leave but he wouldn't budge, only laugh and brush me off, reaching for the doorbell. "Ben. C'mon. Please. I'm not even dating you."