Call me Nate {Natepat}

7

A few weeks passed, and MatPat still hadn't gotten sick of me. I was surprised to notice that he was different to the others. The moment I told anybody about the disorders I had, they ran scared, as if it was something life threatening or contagious. When in reality it was highly likely that they have something similar.

It was an important day, I'd been jittery, and Matt was concerned, scared I'd gone into one of those fits again. I reassured him I hadn't, explaining to him why today was so important.

Dad was home.

"How much coffee did you have this morning?" He asked, looking up from his papers. We were in a cover class. But the teacher meant to be supervising us didn't show so everybody was either, messing, on their phones, or talking in groups.

I however, was staring at the clock, bouncing my knee anxiously, watching the minutes turn to seconds and the seconds tick down. Meanwhile, MatPat was going over a script for his drama class.

"I don't drink coffee." I laughed.

"Okay then, how many cans of redbull?" He raised an eyebrow, before going back to his script, mouthing the words on the page as he read over them.

"My dad's coming home today. I'm just really excited to see him, okay!" I reminded him for the umpteenth time, the smartest boy of the millennia but can't remember a fucking sentence.

"Where was he?" Matt asked, and I was about to roll my eyes and then I realised I hadn't actually told him that yet.

"He was working at a branch in Scotland. He's been gone for a few months." I explained, he nodded.

"Well-" he was cut off by the bell. I grabbed my bag and practically sprinted toward the doors.

"Hey Nate!" Matt called. "Enjoy your family reunion!"

I drove with Mom to the airport, practically jumping up and down in my seat. I've never had a favourite parent, never, but I couldn't help but feel Dad has always understood me more.

When he was working at a branch in overseas, he always brought me and Mom something back from his journey. But neither of us cared about the gifts, we just wanted to see him again. He'd been away for over two months and he could hardly text or call because of international call prices. And he didn't have time to sit down and write a letter.

I ran ahead of my mom into the airport, and the moment I stepped inside, a wash of that feeling came over me, and my blood ran cold as I realised how many people were in the same building, families coming together, crowds of people on business trips.

So many people. All at once.

"Deep breaths. In and out. Nobody's here to hurt you." I whispered to myself, clenching and realising my fist in an effort to distract myself, as I walked looking for him.

I began to get that feeling of being lost in the mall, and I turned around to try and find my mom.

But then I saw him, my dad, by some chairs near the entrance, he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, his dark hair hanging over his forehead, almost sweeping into his eyes. He was staring at his phone, holding his suitcase up by the handle, to keep it steady.

I practically squealed, scratch that, I did squeal, and run up to him, practically rugby tackling him in a hug. The manliest of hugs, and the manliest of squeals.

He spun me around like he used to when he would pick me up after school as a kid, and my Mom ran up to us laughing.

"Hey! How's my girl!?" He laughed, I didn't even care, I was just glad to see him.

"We both missed you. Natalie get off your Father and let him get into the house before tackling him to the ground." She chuckled.

"I second that!" Dad declared.

When we got home I ran up to my room to get my song book, my Dad had always declared that I was a musical genius, but of course that's not true, I was barely any good. But yet he insisted on reading my music, or any lyrics I'd written when he was gone,

Ignoring my thoughts I ran down to my parents, who were setting the table for dinner.

When we were sat down I took out my song book and showed it to Dad.

"Natalie, I've told you before and I'll tell you again, not at dinner." Mom told me, I made a face at my name but dad just laughed and mom probably thought it was because of her scolding.

"Oh leave the girl alone, I want to see how she's been getting on." His eyes scanned over the writing. "Very MCR, and.. Slightly Green Day." He pointed out, I nodded.

"Why don't you tell him about school?" Mom suggested.

"It's okay." It's terrible. "We have a new kid." I'm obsessed with this new kid. "His name is Matthew Patrick, or MatPat for short."

"Is that all?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he has brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. He's roughly the same height as me. And he has this really weird adorable laugh, he's a really good actor and his smile is freaking contagious." My parents exchanged a glance before smiling back at me.

"My baby girl has a crush!" My mom squealed and I winced, half because of what she was accusing me of and half because of what she had called me.

I doubt she realises how uncomfortable that makes me. But I suppose it's my fault seeing as I haven't spoken to her about it, I can't blame her for somethings she's unaware of.

I raised my eyebrows so high, one disappeared into my side-fringe. How the hell could they think that I have a crush on Matthew theatre-nerd Patrick? Can't he just be my friend?

"No, he's my friend." I said, directing my burning face to look at my food. Reminding myself that I could not under any circumstances swear at my parents, even if I wanted to.

"You're in denial!" My dad laughed, pointing at me as if something was hysterical.

"And?" I rolled my eyes, but anybody could tell a smile was tugging at my lips. "It's basic human response when being wrongly accused."

I swear they acted like teenage girls.

"You act like we don't know how it feels. We were your age once?" Mom pointed out.

"Yeah, go get him." Dads facial expression turned to stone in a second. "But if he hurts, you get my rifle." He could only hold the face for a few seconds before bursting into laughter once more

"Oh God."