Jesse

15: The night everything changed

15: The night everything changed

            "What do you mean you won't be able to come over?"

            I sighed, as I opened the front door of my house. I looked back at Ian dully; there was nothing more than I wanted to do than go to his house. But there were problems. "It's my Dad," I explained, smirking. "He can be sort of…uh, difficult."

            "Oh, where's he? At work?" Ian asked.

            "Yeah," I said.

            "Want to give him a call?"

            I didn't know how much good that would do: me calling his work?—wouldn't that just defeat the purpose, and piss him off more? For Ian, though, I would give it a shot. He made a motion to come inside with me. I stopped him with a hand.

            "Wait here," I said, "we're both soaked…I'll just go make the call, grab some clothes, and be back. Okay?"

            "Yeah, sure," Ian agreed, nodding.

            "Alright, I'll be right back." I left him, with the door open.

            After a few minutes, I returned smiling, and carrying a plastic bag with the little amount of clothes I had thrown into it and my book bag. Ian was leaning against the door his hair and clothes not as damp, but still disheveled like mine. He shared the same brightening grin, and his brow rose.

            "So, what did he say? Can you?" He asked, curious.

            "Well, yeah, I can, surprisingly enough," I said still in shock. Harold hadn't given the most clear answer with all his grumbling, and wondering if I was going to get shit done around the house, my homework; I had promised him I would do it, and he gave in, which he rarely ever did. But when he did, I saw that he wasn't all completely gone. That some part of Dad was still in him. There was still good left.

            He did ask who it was, and that was when I sort of lied, but didn't exactly. I had said it was a friend from school. Harold had also asked where they lived; I told had told him the street Emily lived off. I didn't want him thinking I was so close. I was afraid of what he might do.

            I had to distance myself.

            "But on one condition only," I continued.

            "What would that be?"

            "Must do homework," I said. We both rolled our eyes, and Ian groaned.

            "Yeah, I know," I said. "But I don't want to be grounded for the next week…or worse…"

            "Alright, alright; we can do that," Ian said. "Anyways, I'll need some help with Anatomy…What he was talking about today…I didn't really get."

            "Yeah," I said. "But you're asking me for help?" I scoffed.

            He laughed. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

            "Okay, let's get out of here," I said, and Ian only nodded. I closed the locked door and closed it; Harold had a separate key.

            The rain had slackened some, and its cooling, wet mist sprinkled our faces and backs as we sprinted. On his porch, he unlocked his door and we stepped into the dim inside.

            The downpour of rain was now only a faint drizzle, fogging and blurring Ian's window; the lightening storm had moved on. The window was slightly cracked to let the room breathe as we smoked Ian's weed. It was his idea, and I didn't disagree. I had wondered if his parents would smell it, but he just shook his head, and said they wouldn't. They didn't know what it smelled like.