Dance to This Beat

I walked into the huge Las Vegas house both in shock and in utter hatred. My mom followed me in. "It sure is something isn't?"

"Yeah, somethin' shitty," I mumbled.

"Claire," mom said warningly, "I know you didn't like the divor--"

"Don't," I corrected. "I loathe the divorce. Why couldn't I stay in Mississippi with dad?" I asked.

"I know sweetheart, but daddy has his own job to deal with, and he can't watch you every second."

"Mom. I'm seventeen. I can take care of myself. I'm used to havin' no one around."

She turned to me and gave me the look like she was about to kill me. I almost laughed.

"Can we just get this shit inside please? It looks like it's about to rain and I'm tired. Why the hell did we drive anyway?" I said, whinily.

"To bond," she mumbled, walking out the door.

I rolled my eyes and followed her to the moving van. It was packed full of our crap and we didn't even need half of it.

Mom handed me a box and grabbed one for herself. "These are both kitchen boxes," she reminded me.

Like I hadn't seen the big, black Sharpie on every square inch of the box, "Kitchen Shit".

She followed me back into the house, and I stopped short, making her run into me. The corner of the box jabbed into my back. It didn't feel too good, but I probably deserved it for something.

"Why did you stop!?"

"Uh ... where is the kitchen?"

"Walk into the first room," she laughed, "and it's to the left."

I followed her instructions and sure enough, found the kitchen. "I knew that."

"Uh huh. Sure you did."

"Momma?" I asked, sitting my box on the large marble counter.

"What?"

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Only if you go back out to that moving van and help me get all these boxes."

I laughed. "Deal."

"Okay, go."

I grabbed a box from the back of the truck. "Why ... why exactly did you and daddy ... you and daddy get the divorce?"

"He ... we ... well. You see, it's like this ... remember Karen, from his office?"

"The skanky one who always needed to touch her dark roots?" I smirked.

"That's her." She joined me in laughing. "Daddy ... he--"

"Cheated on you with her?" I inturrupted.

"Yes. It wasn't the first time he cheated on me either."

"Oh."

"I loved your dad though, but I was so scared everytime he walked out that door. I was scared that he would be cheating on me. Nearly every night he would come home at about two in the morning smelling like a different scent of perfume."

"Why'd you wait?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Why'd you wait so long to divorce him if you knew what was goin' on?"

"I was too in love. I let my heart overrule my head and he got the better of my. It was his decision. He said he was sick of all my moping around and that he wanted to be with other people."

"I remember a lot of the fightin' from when I was younger," I said quietly.

"That's when it first stated. You were about seven or so."

We went through the rest of unpacking quietly. I had decided that I didn't want to hear about dad. He wasn't just cheating on mom. He was cheating on every other woman that he'd been with. I made a promise to myself while I was unpacking my room. I swore that if I ever met a guy that thought it was okay to do that to me then I would just up and leave, no questions asked.

------

As I placed the last Hawthorne Heights poster on my wall, the doorbell rang. I ran downstairs, remembering mom calling up to tell me she was going to the grocery.

I opened the door and saw a really cute guy standing on the porch. "Hi?"

"Hey, so I guess you just moved in?" The boy asked. He looked about my age, but definatly taller.

"Yeah...."

He held up a plate of brownies. "My mom made me come bring these over. We live right next door," he laughed. "She's so old school."

"Thanks." I laughed. "I'm Claire."

"Walker. Jon Walker."

I laughed more. "Uh. Claire Willams?"

"So you're in high school?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna be a senior."

"Me, too."

"Rad. Maybe you could show me around?"

"Yeah definatly," he said, then noticed my shirt. "You like blink-182, huh?"

"Love 'em."

"I have a few friends that would be so in love with you right now."

I could feel myself blushing. "So y'all like indie bands, huh?"

"I'm also in one," he grinned. Oh, God.

"Cool, you'll have to play for me sometime."

"Yeah, we will."

I looked up at the sky when I felt the big, fat drops.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to head home before it starts raining too hard. You never know here in Vegas."

"Bye." I waved.

I walked inside and closed the door behind me. "Oh God, Claire." I said to myself, leaning against the door. "You haven't even been here for a day and you already have a crush on your neighbor."

------

"I'm home," mom called, as she walked in the door.

"Hi," I popped my head out of the kitchen cut-out. "The neighbor came by while you were gone. He brought brownies his mom had made."

She looked at me curiously. "Was he cute?"

"To die for, momma. He was about six inches taller than me, maybe. He had shaggy brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was so cute."

"God, you're boy crazy."

"Uh, one: I got it honest" She nodded agreeing with me, so I went on, "and two: you should just see this boy. Your jaw would drop too."

"So does the cute neighbor boy have a name?" she asked, pulling out a bar stool.

"Jon Walker," I sighed.

"Are you shy at all?"

I ginned, "Nope. He's so cute!"

"Is that all you can say about him?"

"No, he likes blink!"

"Wow, Claire."

"Yeah momma, when I got struck with that lucky stick, I got it good. He's also a senior!"

"Oh, God, Claire," mom groaned.

------

"Delish," I laughed.

"Claire Marie Williams! Do not make fun of your mother's cooking. You're lucky I feed you at all."

"Cooking? Momma, it's Ramen soup."

"I'm tired, you're tired. I didn't feel like actually cooking something."

"Yeah, yeah. Excuses, excuses."

"Claire."

"Mom."

She burst out laughing then looked over at the clock. I followed her gaze. 8:58

"I sound like an old person, but, momma, I think it's time for bed."

She nodded in agreement and we both picked up our bowls and carried them to the sink. We made a silent promise to do dishes tomorrow, I knew. Then we both trudged up the stairs and separated at the top. She went to the left and I to the right.

I walked into my now Hawthorne Heights covered bedroom and opened the pajama drawer. I pulled out my favorite pair of pajama pants (they had cute, little frogs all over them) and a green cami. I quickly changed and slipped between my sheets.

My dreams that night consisted of Jon, Jon, dad, Jon, and the thunderstorm taking place just outside.