Preacher's Daughter: A Modern Clato Fanfic

Chapter 7

Clove stood outside of the Hadley's door, purse in her hand. She but her bottom lip nervously, but then stopped, remembering the comment Cato had made about it. He asked her why she did it so often, which had surprised her. She hadn't even known him for that long, but yet he already picked up on her habit. 

With a deep breath, she reached out and rang the doorbell. Her heart pounded in her chest for reasons she couldn't explain. She didn't understand why being around these people made her so anxious, made her feel so different. Cynthia was just like everyone else in Elmore City, so Clove didn't view her as different. It was Cato that made her stomach turn. 

This confused Clove, considering she had never felt this way before. Maybe it was because of his reputation. After all, he made it very clear that he did not want to be here, and the rumors about him drinking and his insane partying were confirmed. Then why did she feel so drawn towards the blonde? 

The girl was taken out of her thoughts when the front door was swung open. Much to her amazement, the very person that consumed her thoughts answered the door. 

"Clove?" Cato questioned, giving her a puzzled expression. "What are you doing here?" 

She extended the bag out to him, giving a small smile. "Your mom left this at my house last night, I wanted to give it back to her." Cato nodded, taking the purse from her, his hand brushing hers in the process. Clove yanked her hand away quickly, cheeks heating up. 

"Well," she muttered, "I should get going, then." She was about to turn away, but Cato's voice pulled her back. "Wait! Um, you can come in if you want. You don't have to. My mom made cookies, you know women and their baking. But, you don't have to." 

Clove was surprised at the invitation, but didn't let it show. "Sure," she grinned, stepping into the house. "Thanks." 

Cato glanced down at her and winked, which caused the butterflies in Clove's stomach to flutter about. 

"I don't need to check if anything's missing, do I?" Cato gestured to Cynthia's bag in his hand. "After all, good little Christian like you wouldn't dare look inside someone's personal things." 

Clove rolled her eyes in reply and elbowed the boy in the ribs. "Ha ha," she said sticking her tongue out at him. "Trust me, thought. I didn't go in it. I just noticed it in the living room." 

The two rounded the corner and entered the kitchen were Cynthia stood, taking cookies off of a baking pan and placing them on a decorative plate. Clove noticed a few boxes piled up in the corner of the room, probably a few things that still needed to be unpacked. 

"Clove!" Cynthia exclaimed when she saw the girl. "Hi, honey. How are you?" 

"Good, thank you. Yourself?" Clove responded, following Cato and taking a seat at one of the bar stools by the counter. "Good," came the woman's reply. Once she was the bag Cato had set down on the table behind him, her lips curved up in a grin. "Thanks, Clove. I was getting worried that I'd lost my purse. Or even worse, left it back in Miami!" 

"She found it in the living room," Cato spoke up. "Remember? Clove took it and out it there when we walked in?" The woman nodded, and then looked at both kids. "Cookies?" 

***

Clove sat in the Hadley's living room alone. Mrs. Hadley went to get something to show her while Cato was no where to be seen. The woman came in the room, DVD in hand. 

"I'm sorry for the way Cato acted the other night," Cynthia explained. "But he wasn't always like this. He never acted out in his younger years or anything. It's just..." she trailed off with a sigh, popping the disc in the player and grabbing the remote. She walked over and took a seat next to Clove on the sofa. 

"Something happened that made him the way he is now. But I don't want to bore you with the details." 

Cynthia pressed play, and a young Cato came up on the screen. He must have been around eight years old, Clove guessed. He was standing in an apartment kitchen, flour all over his face and clothes. "Look, Mom!" he grinned up at the woman recording. "I'm a snowman!" The woman laughed. "Yes, you are, Cato! But aren't you going to melt with the heat on?" 

Young Cato put a finger up to his chin, taking what his mom said into consideration. He then placed a hand on his heart and gasped. "Oh no!" he exclaimed, slowly sinking to the floor dramatically. "I'm dying!" he laughed, and then collapsed on the floor, closed his blue eyes and sticking his tongue out. 

Footsteps could be heard and a man stepped into the shot. "What happened?" he smirked, playing along with the boy's charade. "Oh, no! Snowman Cato has melted! What are we going to do?" 

The man scooped Cato up from the ground and started to tickle him. "I guess we'll just have to send the tickle monster in on him!" Cato's eyes open and he broke out into a fit of laughter. "Dad!" he exclaimed. "Dad!" All three of them laughed, and the man was busy running around the room with little Cato, who was yelling out he was flying to his mother, when the real Cato walked into the room. 

His gaze went from the girls to the television screen and then to the girls again. "Mom, turn it off," Cato snapped, his hands balling up into fists. 

"But Cato-"Cynthia tried to protest, but Cato cut her off. "Just turn the damned thing off!" Cato growled, before turning on his heal and storming up to his room, and slamming the door. 

Clove bit her lip. What on earth just happened? 

***

So, this chapter was really crappy. I'm sorry about that. 

I should have the first chapter of The Slaughter House up soon! I sent the draft to my teacher and I'm waiting for feedback, then I'm going to edit it and post it. 

A new chapter of the rewritten edition of The Ring Pop Wars should be up soon as well, when I get the chance to get that done. I'm in the process of getting a new and better cover for it right now.