Standing for Weirdo

Chapter 13

“Hey, Alice,” Alex said when the reading was over. “Why don’t we go and get a celebratory drink? The play’s finally under way!”

I hesitated and he hurried to add, “All of us.”

Glancing at the sneering Jacob and sullen Ashley and carefully neutral Stella, I hid a wince and shook my head.

“Perhaps next time, Alex. I really have to go home today.”

He looked convinced, albeit crestfallen.

Ouchy. Okay, never mind. Don’t let that look guilt you. I need to be home; it isn’t even a lie. And I can’t afford to go out. There are lines to read, homework to do…

Except, without realizing it, I was walking a very familiar path that didn’t take me home. It was taking a side trip through a crooked neighborhood, which had seen much better days, past abandoned yards and fences with the cozy, white paint peeling off the swollen wood.

It felt different in the dim afternoon light, not as scary as it did by night, but much more lonely and pitiful. It was quite sad that Trevor had moved away from our area and into this depressed street, but even I knew better than to ask why sometimes.

When I arrived at his house, I forced myself not to jump into the yard and not to hide against the wall.

I will go around to the driveway and up to the front porch, and then I will ring the bell…

Come on, ring the stupid bell!

Taking a deep breath, I punched it in and the electric buzz echoed beyond. A light came up in the hall and I gripped my bag with both hands to try and hold myself in place.

I shall not bolt, I shall not bolt…

Then, the door opened and I decided I didn’t want to start running for the hills after all. Trevor stared out at me, hair held back in a high ponytail and a crooked smile in place.

“Hey,” I said when he remained silent a bit too long. My voice came out shaky, but it snapped him out of whatever reverie he’d fallen into.

“Hi,” he said, stepping to the side to let me come in. “I’m glad you chose to come.”

I shrugged and tried for a lighter tone. “I didn’t want your grandma neighbor to sic the cops on me.”

“Or worse… the psycho ward.”

“Stalkerish is so not psycho,” I said, rolling my eyes at him.

“It is in the movies.”

“Of course. Because Hollywood does such great research.”

That made him laugh again and I laughed along, surprised by how easy it was.

“Come on in.” He closed the door behind me and motioned me through a small foyer, down a short corridor and to his room.

“Your father?” I dallied a bit at the door. Taking into account that two days ago I’d have been caught dead before talking to this guy, entering his room felt awfully intimate.

“At work. Should be back in another couple of hours, right in time for dinner.” He half turned and gave me a funny look. “Are you worried I might jump you?”

“No!” I replied a bit too fast and he snorted. I entered his room, just to prove that I wasn’t intimidated. “I just thought I should say hello to him, that’s all,” I tried to amend, still gripping my bag with one hand.

“Stay around for a couple of hours and you will,” he said with a shrug. “I’m sorry, the amp and rack are here. Still, if it would make you more comfortable, you can sit in the living room… It’s not as if the house is too big for the sound to reach you.”