I Never Dreamt Because I'm Just Too Busy

I was laying on my bed reading, when my mother called me downstairs.

“Anabelle!”

“What?” I shouted back.

“Dinner!”

“Okay!”

I washed my hands and slowly began to descend the stairs, hoping that what I smelled was burgers and fries, and not hamburger meat and potatoes.

I scowled to myself when I realized that my wish had not come true.

Nonetheless, I took my place across from my mother at the small table.

I was eating silently, the way I usually did, while my parents talked about their jobs and the idiots they’ve encountered during the day.

I began to think about how strange it would be to hang out with Stephen alone. I’d never been good with people, especially when it’s just us.

Though, I don’t know what I should worry about. Stephen doesn’t seem like the type to judge, and he’s really easy to talk to.

“Anabelle?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?” My father asked.

“I’m going to a friend’s house to work on a project.”

My parents exchanged a glance. “Well you’re going to have to tell them you need to cancel.”

My eyebrows came together. “Why?”

“Because we’re going to meet the Fenton’s at their house tomorrow afternoon.”

“And may I ask exactly how that is more important?”

He took a sip of his drink before setting his eyes on me. “Because you’re going to be meeting their son. We figured it would be a nice change from the group of friends you have, and took advantage of the opportunity, seeing as we need to talk business with his parents.”

“Well you’re going to have to tell them I’m not going. I have plans, and I can meet your friend’s son next time.”

“Anabelle.” My mom said in a warning tone.

“What? It’s not my fault I need to get started on my project. You guys always said school comes first. I’m only following the rules that you set for me,” I said, raising my hands.

My mom and dad shared a look. “She’s right you know, Derek.”

He sighed, “I know Penelope. I’ll call the Fentons.”

Oof. I thought. Bullet dodged.

For the moment, at least..



I grabbed the stack of freshly printed papers from the tray, and the thing that cuts straight lines, carrying them to the bed. I was about done with ten of the pictures when my phone began to ring.

“Dear Chicago,
Well you’ll never guess,
You know the girl you said I’d meet someday,
Well I’ve got somethin’ to confess,
She picked me up on Friday,
Asked me if she reminded me of you,
I just laughed and lit a cigarette,
Said that’s impossible to do…”

Looking at it, I realized it was Stephen.

And as stupid as it sounds, my heart kind of began to beat faster.

“Hello?”

“Anabelle! How are you?” I could practically hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m okay. I guess.”

Stephen chuckled. “So about today, I completely spaced; I have band practice.”

I felt my face fall ever so slightly. Well, there goes my afternoon.

“But, if you still want to do the project, would you mind waiting until after to start?”

“Sure.” Okay. So maybe I still had something to do.

“You should come watch us, that way you can get acquainted with the band. They keep bothering me to introduce you.” Stephen laughed, “Perfect opportunity.”

“Oh. Uh. I’m not very good with people…” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“Oh please, Anabelle. People love you.”

“Not all of them…”

“Oh, stop it,” he chuckled, “They’re not going to hate you, far from it.”

“I don’t know…”

“C’mon please?”

“Ah…”

“Don’t make me beg, Anabelle. Please?”

I sighed a little, “Okay Stephen.”

“Atta girl. So how about you come by my house around two?”

“Er, sure.” I stopped pacing to look in the mirror. I realized I was twirling my pendant around my fingers, a nervous habit.

“Alright.” Stephen told me his address, which I noted wasn’t all too far from the Starbuck’s we’d met at.

“Okay, I’ll be there.” I said biting my lip.

“Great. See you later Anabelle.”

Hanging up, I realized that I had a little over an hour to get dressed.

I jumped into the shower leaving my iPod on the dock playing loudly into the bathroom.

I started singing along, “And you thought that all the time, she could never tell a lie, but believing a liar is feeding the fire…”

I laughed in spite of myself. With music playing, I sounded moderately okay. Without it I sounded pretty hopeless.

I always wished I could be a good singer, it’s one of the many things I wanted that I so desperately lacked.

I climbed out, a momentary shiver running down my spine.

I wrapped a towel around my body, and went to my closet grabbing some black jeans, a black racerback tank, and a plaid shirt that was red.

I didn’t care all too much about my appearance, just enough to be considered a moderately good dresser.

I never wore any make up either, really, besides a bit of mascara and eyeliner.

I slipped in my feather earrings and looked at my reflection. I frowned.

My damn hair got in the way too much. There was just so much of it. It was wavy when it cooperated, and frizzy as hell when it didn’t.

Within about fifteen minutes it was mostly dry, to my surprise and happiness. I tied it back still, hoping that it didn’t puff up too bad.

I looked at the clock and figured I might as well leave for Stephen’s.

I slid down the las six steps on the banister of the staircase, grabbed my keys and walked out the door.