Bitter

three - cal

   Lydia Bosher was in my driveway after school. I wouldn't have known it was her if she hadn't had that crappy sweatshirt on that she always seemed to wear.

She was looking at me and gestured to my mom's car. "It looks good," she commented, adding in a smile that made me question what she was actually here for. There was no way she was here to compliment my car washing skills.

"Thanks..." I replied, spinning back around to face the car again, pretending to wash it some more. It was hard to do things when there was a weird girl staring at me from behind.

I heard her footsteps moving closer, so that's when I whipped the hose around and started spraying her all over. She inhaled sharply and jumped back, her hair and clothes now dripping wet. One more step back and she walked right over the bucket I'd been using to wash, crushing the plastic and letting the water spill out all over the driveway. She looked down, one foot submerged in the bucket. She looked back up at me, blue eyes wide. "That was not what I meant to do," she blurted out.

Not what she meant to do? So she meant to do something else? I gave her a warning spray of the hose, but this time she didn't react as much. "What did you mean to do then?" I demanded, immediately regretting saying that.

Lydia Bosher had the nerve to dart over to the edge of the driveway, grab a handful of mud from my yard (I was running after her at this point, everything moving in slow motion), and hurl it at my mom's white car. As soon as I heard the giant splatter of the mud, I reached Lydia and shoved her down in my yard. She landed in the mud with a satisfying smack.

I towered over her and should've moved a couple feet back because she gathered a fistful of more mud and angrily flung it at me. "That," she snapped, "that was what I meant to do."

"Did you mean to be laying in mud too?" I asked, grinning at the look on her face. She was glaring up at me, mud completely covering her sweatshirt with little spots spattered on her nose. At least her ugly sweatshirt looked better now.

   She was struggling to get to her feet. I offered my hand, but she swatted it away and stood slowly on wobbly legs. She knew better than to believe I'd actually pull her up.

   I watched her as she left my driveway in defeat. She was walking briskly, mud falling off her in clumps. Her hands were in her pockets and her eyes looked straight ahead. I had to laugh, but only for a moment because my mom came out on the porch again, hands flying to her mouth as she gasped. "Cal! What did you do?!"

———

   Mom thought I did it. She thought I threw the mud at the car, she thought I threw mud on myself, she thought I broke the bucket. Everything. She thought I did everything.

   "Mom, I'm telling you right now, Lydia Bosher came up to our house and did all of this," I argued as I followed her around the house, the mud on my shirt now dry and flaking off on the floor.

   "Cal, I don't want to hear it," Mom ordered, noticing the dirt trail I'd made, "just go change please." She shut her eyes and rubbed her face, breathing in and out slowly. So dramatic.

   I rolled my eyes and did as she said, passing Dad who was asleep on the chair in the living room. I still didn't know how he slept through all of my fights with Mom. Sometimes I had to check to make sure he was alive, that's how crazy it got.

   Jogging up the stairs, I went to my room and shut the door with a little more force than intended. No, actually, I had intended it. Mom never believed me when it came to Lydia Bosher. For once I wasn't lying about something and she didn't believe me. She thought Lydia was some perfect angel. That she could do no wrong or something. That wasn't true at all.