Find a Penny, Pick Her Up

Chapter 3

Shirley squeaked to a stop in my driveway, but I breathed in moments of delicious silence to myself. My house looked like it always did - the grey tiled roof paired oh-so-perfectly with the white exterior of the house, and the hanging Spanish moss from the huge tree hung over the majority of the property. 

I stared up at it, blinking away at the cracks where sunlight had managed to leak through. My dad hated the tree, said it was too messy. I even grew up listening to the complaints of the big, messy, and ugly tree. 

I didn't understand why. I mean, look at it. The hanging moss provided the perfect shade for a sunny day, and plus, it was pretty. Anyone who said otherwise was just blind to beauty, I guess. 

"Staring at that tree again?"

I jumped, startled by Dad's voice. He wiped his hands on a dirty rag, dirt smudging his white T-shirt. He was smiling, shaking his head bitterly. I could practically see the twitch in his mouth, threatening to dive straight into why the tree caused more bad than good. The only reason why he didn't get his way and cut it down was because I loved it so much, but it didn't mean he was less bothered by it. 

"Hi Dad," I smiled as I walked Shirley into the garage, kicking out the kickstand and parking her in her usual spot. 

"How was school, honey?"

"It was great," I grinned, the muscles in my face stretching in a foreign fashion. You think I'm joking. 

"Good!" He dropped the rag, seeming to be finished for his tasks of the day. Dad worked as a mechanic, so he was always messing around with his and Mom's car engine. Even when there was nothing wrong. I always joked with him about cars being his first love. "Anything interesting happen?" 

I took off my backpack, slowing and thinking of Hampton. Shadow buddy-Hampton. I wanted to roll my eyes, but the mystery boy was the perfect variable in keeping up the Penny-show. 

"I'm a tour guide for tomorrow," I started, trying to sound excited. But even to me, my excitement level was lame and I was worried he'd notice. 

But he took a swig from his water bottle, nodding. "That's awesome, Pen." I crossed the garage, a bounce in my step, and climbed the wooden stairs. 

"Oh, by the way," he stopped me, giving me a look. "Mom got a call from Mrs. Prickett." My stomach dipped. Maybe it was good. Maybe she was telling her about my tour tomorrow, and how things were really going great. I took another look at Dad's face, and it told me the opposite. Something was up. 

I was frozen on the stairs, and he put his hands in the air in surrender. "Just wanted to warn you before entering the cross-fires."

I gave a half smile before walking opening the door and stepping into the house. Dad was always my buddy. 

Mom was at the kitchen counter, chopping something. The back of her head, blonde streaked with highlights, bounced slightly as she chopped. People said I was the spitting image of her, but I couldn't see it. She was Ms. Perfect. She always had her shit together. But at that moment, I was scared for what was to come. 

"Hi, Mom," I said, slinging my bag off my shoulder and letting it drop to the ground. 

She swung, the knife still in her hand, and I wasn't surprised to be met with The Face. It was a look I had grown immune to seeing for a few months, almost like she was disappointed. But then her head would tilt to the side, just like it was doing then, and boom - it was the second part of The Face. Sympathy. 

"Mrs. Prickett called me," she started off, still giving me The Face. Corners of the lips turned slightly downwards. Eyebrows drawn together. 

I waited. My voice wasn't needed.