I open the garage and tuck my board away. I place my hand on the door handle but my mother beats me. The door flies open and she crosses her arms.
"Where the hell have you been?" She whisper-shouts. "You snuck out? That's unlike you." I look down and shrug.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone out." I start to pick at the drying blood on my hands and my mother fumes.
"What on earth- I- Denver Ophelia Ryley." She grabs my hand and inspects my palm. "You fell? What on earth is going on?" She drags me to the kitchen sink. My dad slams his laptop shut as we walk by.
"Denver Ophel-" He starts,
"Save the lecture. I already did it." My mother cuts him off. She pats the counter and I hop on to it. She turns the water on and tests it before putting my skinned palms under the lukewarm water. "Explain."
"I'm sorry. I just needed air and it was already late and I knew you'd say no. I just. I just have a lot on my mind. I-" My mom looks at me already buying my words. I really was sorry. I think.
"Like what?" My dad coaxes. I sigh. Do I tell them?
"Like me not finding my soulmate." We've never talked about soulmates. It's a common occurrence to find them while you're young. It's common knowledge that everyone has one. My parents found each other when they were 14. Been together since. And here I am. I don't have one. What a disappointment I am. They look at each other and share a sad smile.
"Oh, Den..." My dad starts.
"Don't. You don't understand." I'm getting angrier by the minute.
"Den, you'll find him. You will. Your phrase will switch wrists and you'll just know. You'll-" I cut him off with a glare.
"No. You don't get it. I don't have a phrase. I never have. I don't have a soulmate. I'm alone." I pull my hand away from my mother grip and flee to my room. I pass Jamie on the stairs. He just stares. I hear my parents whispering behind me. I don't care. I don't wanna be here. I slam my door just to open it quickly and yell down the stairs.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to slam my door." I close my door quietly this time and flop on my bed. I want to be a dramatic teenager and blast music but instead I move to the floor and press my ear to the floor. My rooms right over the kitchen and I can hear my parents discussing this new information.
"No phrase?" My mom repeats in disbelief.
"No phrase." My dad confirms.
"What the hell are we gonna do now." Jamie says.
"Jameson. Language." My mom scolds him. "Bed. Now. Oh and Jamie, don't mention this to anyone, okay?" With that I pull my ear away from my floor. What the hell are we gonna do now. Jamie sticks his head in my room and points at me.
"Freak." He whispers.
"GET OUT! GET OUT! YOU LITTLE PIG!" I scream at Jamie. He doesn't know who the freak is. I'm not a freak. Right?
YOU ARE READING
Touched Bare
Teen FictionWhen you're born everyone has a phrase written on their wrist. Their left wrist. Only you can see it. This phrase is the first thing your soulmate says to you. Sometimes people don't have a phrase. Sometimes your phrase disappears or changes. There...
