The Boy Next Door (Crewt)

Confrontation

Morning dawned bright blue and mocking to my churning emotions. I could barely wait until seven thirty in the AM (Newt, it's too early to go waking people up my mum said) to visit Credence. But I waited. Patiently.

When I saw movement behind the gauzy curtains below, I stalked next door. The grass was neatly mowed, the garden pruned and flowers blossoming. A swing swung from the oak tree in the front yard and wind dials beckoned sweetly from the porch. A little statue of Jesus sat near the doorway. It was all normal. Perfect. You would never guess abuse hid behind the screen door. 

Taking a deep breath, I stalked up the garden path, adopting my natural height. I gathered my confidence and knocked. 

Light footsteps could be heard making their way to the door, and then it opened. In the frame stood a girl of about fifteen with two plaits and a delicate face. Chastity or Modesty? I beamed at the mousy-haired girl, secretly relieved Mrs Barebone hadn't answered.

    'Hi,' I said.

     'Hello,' she answered, smiling politely.

     'I'm Newt. From next door. Could I please see Credence?'

The girl's smile dropped and she bit her lip. She glanced behind her before she said, 'One second,' and closed the door on me. I stood there awkwardly, listening for sounds from wuthin the house. A minute later the girl re-emerged. She looked apologetic.

     'Sorry. Credence isn't feeling well at the moment.' My shoulders dropped. 

     'Oh. OK. Does he have a mobile?' She shook her head.

     'No mobiles.'
She looked like she wanted to say more, but stopped. 'Sorry again. Maybe tomorrow.'

I nodded and said thanks. I heard the door close softly behind me as I strolled slowly back to my house, thinking. Was Credence actually unwell? Did he get beaten up enough that he didn't want to come to the door? Or was Mrs Barebone that scared of strangers? Worry stiffened my shoulders and coursed almost imperceptibly through my veins as I thought for the millionth time: How could a mother do that to her kid? Did the sister I had just met get beaten as well? The thought made me sick. 

When I got home, I walked to the landline and hovered there. My parents had gone off to work already. Should I call someone? Who could help? I hesitated. I didn't really know Credence, or his family. Maybe correctional physicalness or whatever was normal to him. Ha. I seriously doubt that. Still. I didn't want to make a phony phone call over something that had happened once. Mrs Barebone had probably just found out about the smoking last night, or maybe she was strict about bed times, and she'd gone off her rocker. Like, really bad. Maybe tomorrow. Yes. I would wait until tomorrow to see Credence and ask him. I had to. 

*

The café door tinkled as I walked in and spotted Tina.

'Hey Tina,' I called over the crowd, feeling uncomfortable in the bustling space. She turned and beamed.

'Hey Newt!'

Tina Goldstein was one of my best friends. She was also quite pretty. Many a time she would touch my arm unnecessarily or look up at me through her lashes. She thought I couldn't take a hint. If only. I'm just not interested in her. Or girls. Period. 

I had parked next to her car in the lot. She owned a 1960s VW beetle, much to my envy. Every time she picked me up somewhere she'd have her windows rolled down and be playing The Chainsmokers or Beyonce on repeat. We often went to the coffee shop she worked at for free coffee and visited the dog pound afterwards just to make me happy.