Because of You

Family Dinners

I'm totally improvising this whole thing; I hope you like it. If anyone hasn't noticed, I kind of like the drama of a non-fantasy/dystopian. Highschool angst! Woo. Plus I love mean Bellamy. Mean Bellamy is fun. Please review!

The week came and went faster than I would've liked, the highlights being the time I spent with Finn, studying in my room or me watching Youtube procedures as he went over blueprints on his computer. Some couples spent their time kissing. We spent our time pouring over schoolwork with our feet entwined. It was a pretty good week, but when Friday finally came, I found myself on edge and nervous.

I wasn't exactly looking forward to the dinner with Octavia and her foster family. It made me actually question things I usually didn't question much, such as my clothing. I even put on my good jeans and a scarce, white shirt Thalia informed me was a blouse.

It had come with a plethora of questions, primarily why I was concerning myself with a freshman I didn't even really know, but I'd just shrugged and told her it was no big deal even though my shirt-questioning contradicted it.

So when school let out that afternoon and I'd finished my schoolwork along with some recreational studying, I dawned the sh—blouse—and headed to my car.

It was a cobalt-blue Nissan Versa, given to me by my Mom after . . . well, after. It didn't fit well in the highschool car lots; full of beat-up trucks and family hand-me-downs, and maybe it was a little self-sabotaging in the big way that it didn't help my nickname lose credibility.

But it was still just a car.

Octavia had texted me the address earlier and I followed it to the best of my abilities, onto Harford Road and up a steep hillside dotted with trees. The sky was already a deep purple, coloring the faraway mountains in wisps of faint peach and orange. It would've been beautiful if I allowed myself the time to appreciate it but I was too focused on not getting lost.

Somehow I found my way there, having only needed to backtrack once. But it took me a second to accept that it was the same place as it read on the text.

It was a homey house, if big houses could still be considered homey. And I knew big; I lived in a 3,000 sq. ft. house my family had bought nearly a decade ago. This was probably a little bigger than that, but there seemed to be some small quality to its stone-inlaid foundation. Maybe it had to do with the fact that three people resided in it instead of two.

I parked against their wide yard, decorated with tall pines and even the white-picket fence. I took a deep breath before killing the engine and stepping out into the chilly evening air. I instantly wished I brought a bigger coat than Thalia's jean jacket, but she'd insisted. My worn hoodies apparently didn't meet her coat standards, nor did it matter to her that hers was a size too small for me.

I walked up the drive and up the steps to the front door, painted the color of wood to match the house's trimming. It was beautiful and instantly worsened my anxiety. I felt like my bra was closed one clasp too tight. Or maybe that was the jacket.

I rang the doorbell.

Muffled sounds came from the other side and I waited, standing cumbersomely straight with my hands clasped together.

The door swung open, revealing Octavia. Her brown hair was pulled into a loose tail and she wore the comfortable clothing I wished I had on. My blouse was too thin and the jacket was too small. All in all, I was regretting ever listening to Thalia.

Octavia smiled at me. "Hey! Come on in. I like your shirt."

I stepped inside, into what looked almost like a foyer. A large staircase extended upwards besides a vaulted hallway, pretty and clean and . . . full of voices echoing from the next room.