Meet You There

Meet You There - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

When I wandered out of my bedroom the next morning, the girls were gone and I was very relieved. It was only 8 A.M. and I was already starting the coffee maker. It was Sunday and I planned to stay home all day, possibly remaining in my pajamas.

   It was hours later when Caleb emerged from his room, joining me in front of the TV.

   "So, how was the party?" he asked right away, after pouring himself a coffee.

   "Party?" I asked, trying to play dumb.

   "When I came in the lobby it was 1A.M., and the pool party was clearing out. I just assumed you and your friends were there?" He was smiling, at least.

   "Oh, uh, yeah. We went to the party, but -"

   "Iris, you're seventeen. I don't really care that you went to a pool party," Caleb said, then let out a laugh.

   "Okay."

   "Why was it here, in my building, though?" he wanted to know.

   "Uh, two kids from my school live in the building... they were hosting the party," I told him slowly.

    "Ah. I guess I've probably seen them around."

  "Yeah, maybe. How was your jam session?" I changed the subject.

  "Oh, it was awesome. Just Josh and Ty and I, we jam at Ty's because he lives out in the middle of no where."

  I nodded, picking up the remote to change the channel. That had gone much better than I'd anticipated.

  "Plans for today?" Caleb went on, now back in the kitchen, looking for breakfast.

  I shook my head. "Just going to start my novel, for English."

  "Oh, right. Well, that's good." He looked a bit surprised, but I didn't say anything else.

  Caleb had every right to be surprised. I wasn't sure what my dad had told him exactly, but it was obviously not that I was a perfect, A+ student who never got into trouble. In San Diego, there were so many distractions. The beach. The parties. Friends. Boys. And then Sheldon. At least here, I would have to drive awhile to get to the beach, and so far I could handle the friends. Boys, though, were out of the question.

   The next school week went fast, as we settled into routine. Classes, assignments, lunch, gossip, testing, reading, repeat. The only class I really disliked was P.E. We had to wear these tiny shorts and t-shirts and run laps, do stretches, play sports that I had zero interest in. And I was out of shape. But I had Polly, who was turning out to be pretty cool. She was sarcastic and funny, and apologized profusely about passing out drunk in my uncle's apartment.

   "Don't worry about it," I told her, mid week, while we were jogging out in the field during gym. I was trying to keep up with her, actually.

   "It's so embarrassing, that I'm still not over that drama," she told me quietly. "Like, it was months ago."

   "I get it," I said, but stopped before I said too much.

   "Do you? How?" Polly wanted to know.

   "I... went through something similar... in San Diego," I answered quickly.

   "Ohhh damn," she nodded, but I wasn't sure she believed me. "I just want to know how to not care anymore."

   I swallowed hard. "Well, I ran away from it."

   Polly stopped jogging, grabbing my arm. "You moved back here, you mean?"