Chapters On A Page

The drive was honestly only a couple minutes, hardly even worth getting in the car. But Alex clearly didn't even mind, and he spent the time singing along to the CD he had playing and drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He pulled into our driveway, throwing the car into park as soon as he was in front of the closed garage door. Normally, this would have been the point where I thanked him and jumped out to go into my house alone. But he was serious about also bringing me to work, and he got out of the car first. Shaking my head, I shouldered my purse and slipped out onto the blacktop. He met me around the car and followed me to the fence surrounding the front yard. It was much easier to climb over the sturdy plastic than to go the whole way around to the gate or even to open the garage door, so I did exactly that with him copying.

"So where do you work?" he questioned while leaning against the door next to the one I was unlocking. He crossed his feet as he put all the pressure on his left shoulder, leaving one high-top flat and the other toe-down against the wood of the porch. He looked so casual and effortless, like he struck this pose every single day. I let him go first when I pushed the door open and he promptly slipped his shoes off on the rug beside the closed door.

"At my mom's salon today," I replied, kicking my own shoes off next to his. Mine were haphazardly stacked though, whereas his sat perfectly aligned next to each other.

"She owns a salon?" he questioned, sounding slightly skeptical. Why, I wasn't sure. But I didn't bother asking.

I nodded, still standing there on the hardwood. "Hair Trix, across town," I told him, figuring he would know the place I was talking about. It was an unusual name, according to everyone else's standards at least, and it tended to stick in people's minds. Plus, I didn't doubt that Zack had probably mentioned it in passing at some point.

"Oh!" he almost sang, knowing exactly what I was talking about as I had suspected he would. "That's your mom's place, huh? I've always been curious about the name," he speculated, following behind me as I finally made my way further into the house.

I snorted, wondering if he really had always been curious. If he had, I would have to have a good chuckle about it later. "Her middle name is Beatrix, and my dad started calling her Trixie when they were dating, which led to her nickname Trix. She thinks that what she can do with hair sometimes is an utter trick because she thinks she's mediocre at her profession. Hence Hair Trix, a moderately successful hair and nail salon to contradict her," I explained easily since it definitely wasn't my first time doing so. I stopped walking when I reached the stairs and turned around to face him, seeing that he was nodding in understanding and looking impressed. "There's more cupcakes in the kitchen if you want any. If you liked them, you might want to snatch a couple before the vultures get home," I said, not even elaborating on the fact that the vultures were Lilah and Kaylee. "I'm gonna go get changed." With that, I skipped up the stairs and expected him to find the kitchen on his own.

There was something about this house and how it felt like an entirely different world when it was empty, leaving it quiet. It took me a moment to remind myself that the house wasn't completely empty because Alex sat downstairs. Stepping through the open door to my room, I realized how the hot day had raised the temperature of the whole second floor and made it feel even more different than it had been this morning. I gathered my hair in my hands and wrapped the hair tie on my wrist around it before stepping in front of my dresser. I shed my jeans and replaced them with a pair of denim shorts then headed to the closet, pulling my shirt over my head as I went. Today, no tank top lay underneath but also no boys sat around my room. So I took my time thumbing through the shirts until I found the one that would mark me as the girl who sweeps up hair. I put it on as I made my way back across my room and the hem was settled at my waist by the time I was out in the hall again. I bounced down the stairs and around corners until I was in the kitchen, which I found as deserted as it had been when I left this morning.

Rather than call out Alex's name to find where he was, I paced over to the island situated between three counters, two on the walls and one jutting out to divide the room. The baked goods from the previous day were on this counter, just next to the beam that held up the lowered ceiling above it. Two cupcake papers lay empty and messily folded next to the cooling racks. I noted them but didn't pay much attention to them before walking around the island to make sure he wasn't hiding for some unknown reason. I came up short. There wasn't much else in the room yet, so I made my way over to the pantry. Peeking in the door was all it took to tell me he wasn't in there.

I heaved a sigh, throwing my hands up to land back by my sides with a small slap. "Alex! Where the hell are you?" I yelled, giving in. My voice echoed into the pantry since I was still standing in front of it, but I was pretty sure I did a good job of making it carry.

"In here!" he called back in a sing-song voice, sounding content yet distracted. I spun around to follow where his exclamation had come from, and saw him sitting behind the bar in the dining room. Somehow, I had completely missed him in my peripheral vision when I'd crossed the room both times. I paced over to him, pushing open the one French door that had been left closed. "You have zero liquor," he stated when he looked up and saw me. To punctuate his words, he took a large bite of the cupcake held in his fingers.

I nudged a box with my bare toes when I came to it. "There's a few bottles of some really expensive shit in here somewhere. Stuff my parents got for their wedding or anniversaries or whatever and my mom wouldn't let my dad keep," I enlightened him, completing the short walk to the bar and leaning against the end of it.

He eyed the box, but was apparently not too worried about it in the moment. "So… why are they getting divorced?" he asked, attempting to ease into it. He still sounded too eager though, wanting to know this detail for a reason I couldn't figure. The divorce was something I was already practically over; it was almost finalized so there was no point in sulking over it. But it was the reasons for the divorce I didn't particularly care to talk about with anyone other than my best friends, and I could feel my face scrunch up in discomfort. "You don't have to tell me. Sometimes, I'm kind of insensitive and ask things that shouldn't be brought up," he explained in way of an apology.

But I was already shaking my head. As soon as I had realized I probably looked upset, I had worked to put it right again. I didn't see the need to be quite so emotional with a friend I barely knew. "We're five-by-five. It's just still fresh," I lied, thinking this would be the easiest excuse. "One day, possibly. Not now though when I have to go hang out with my mom for a few hours." I shrugged to let him know it was something to put a pin in for now. He nodded in agreement and finished off his cupcake, looking out the window that faced the backyard. "What were you looking for liquor for?" I inquired curiously, thinking it was a bit odd. "Wouldn't have to do with the relationship that you were trying to convince me isn't always great, would it? With the girl who will probably hate me again when she finds out you drove me home." This was a detail I didn't have to point out, but I was pretty sure it was true.

Alex scoffed, hardly looking at me before he pointed his gaze back at the window. "She won't care, and the alcohol wasn't to drown my feelings about the relationship. With a bar like this, I expected an extensive collection," he claimed, turning to see two empty glass-fronted cabinets. "Is there a problem with me wanting to raid your house for some booze?" he shot back. If it was supposed to be acerbic, he certainly didn't do a good job of achieving it.

I pursed my lips and shook my head, "Not at all." He was back to focusing on anything but me. I used this to my advantage and stared at nothing but him, my eyebrows pulled together and the gears in my head going as fast as I could push them. He didn't look angry exactly, just a little beaten down and flustered. "Why isn't it always great?" I pressed, standing on my tiptoes in front of the bar to make myself appear taller, and therefore more authoritative. I didn't even bother wondering if this would be an inquiry he minded me asking because I frankly didn't give a damn.

"What are you talking about?" he evaded, trying his best to play stupid. I cocked my head to the side, narrowing my eyes to tell him that his best was far from good. He sighed before finally coming around the bar and climbing onto one of the stools to plunk down onto its thin cushion. "She's just nagging sometimes, you know? No offense, but you guys can get that way," he stated, referring to all girls. I didn't take offense, but I also didn't know what she nagged him about. "When things are good, they're good. But we get on each other's nerves. And sometimes I like other girls way more than her, leading to us breaking up. I will never live any of those times down," he told me, sounding exasperated.

I wanted to laugh and hit him at the same time. Instead, I turned on my heel and started to walk out of the dining room. I was in the hall before I heard him slip off the stool and follow. "Can you blame her?" I demanded, truly wanting to know. "You were definitely right about something: You're insensitive, and you don't even have to ask questions to be. You're a cheating bastard, so I'm on her side with this one," I expressed, hitting the hardwood of the lower floor in the living room and still not bothering to turn to him. It was weird to think that I was, in a way, standing up for a relationship that almost made me sick just an hour ago. Quite possibly, I should also have not been having a mini freak out on him when our normal conversations were limited to mediocre subjects like what kind of chips we preferred while we waited for one of the other boys to go to the bathroom. But the subject hit close to home especially since he had unknowingly brought it up only minutes ago. Having made it to where our shoes lay, I stuffed my feet into a pair of beat up slip-on Vans riddled with holes.

"What? No! That's not what I-" He had started this dismissal while I was still busying myself with my shoes. But as soon as I turned on him, he came up short. "Yeah. Okay. Maybe it is what I meant," he amended, taking my glare the exact way I wanted him to. "But it's not like it's all the time! I make mistakes like everyone else does. So don't go judging me so quickly, Zack's cousin," he spit, sounding all high and mighty until he'd let the last two words roll off his tongue as he always did. To really piss me off, he could have used my full name like he did the day before when he hadn't recognized me, but his normal name for me only made me laugh.

Hand over my mouth to control the giggles, I shook my head. It took me a minute to regain enough composure to speak. "I'm not judging you, promise," I assured him, even though I really had been for a moment there. I bent down to scoop up my purse from where I was getting into the habit of leaving it, and then made for the door. "What you and your girlfriend do with and to each other is entirely your business. Be in love. Cheat on each other. It's all the same to blissfully single me here on the sidelines," I affirmed with a wave of my hand, purposely using the same adjective he had to tell me that the relationship was not always as it appeared. I then opened the door and ushered him outside first since he seemed to be speechless due to my statement. I'd thrown him off when he had expected me to continue scolding him for his infidelity. I really didn't care though and had gotten carried away because of the subject in general.

I was no longer expecting a ride to work thanks to my big mouth and the anger I'd spit from it, even though I had promised him it made no difference to me. I figured I would just hop on my bike waiting pitifully for me in the garage and pedal as fast as I could manage to get there on time, dwelling on ways to apologize -and if I even wanted to- the whole way. But since he was out the door first, he started toward the car as I locked up the house. He climbed over the fence as we had done coming in, and unlocked the passenger side door first. I would have chalked this up to a mistake of habit except that he opened the door and left it as such before walking around to the driver's side. I shook off the remainder of my negativity to make sure I didn't shoot off again and climbed over the fence, getting in his car right away.

We sat in silence even after we pulled out of the driveway, making me fidget awkwardly. I stared straight out the windshield, studying license plates like I'd have to take a test on them while continuously repositioning my purse on my lap and thinking of my bike. I would have been exposed to the hot air riding it instead of sitting in this air conditioning. But I could have easily forgotten the heat with the wind whipping my hair back, letting the thoughts in my mind go with it. Normally, I wouldn't care so much about having flipped out on someone who obviously deserved it because there were some things that just called for it. Something had me regretting it though, as if I actually felt bad about storming through my own house and acting self-righteous. I was just about to open my mouth once more, this time to tell him just to drop me off where we were, when the quiet was broken.

"Where else do you work?" Alex wondered as we pulled up behind a line of cars at a stoplight. He appeared to be over the shock of my abrupt shifting of moods, and was even working to get some form of a smile on his face. I, however, was confused and knew my face showed it. "Well, you said today you were working at your mom's place. I figured that meant you probably have another job," he said with a shrug, misinterpreting my confusion.

I recovered quickly though, hoping I didn't appear too lost on the subject. "I uh… I'm a hostess at Johnnie's, and I work at Macy's because my mom's friend is the manager," I answered lamely, absentmindedly rubbing my right wrist, my thumb running the length of the tattoo there. It was a nervous habit I'd developed when my sister died, starting as a way to remind me that everything was fine.

Alex whistled, a lot like Murph had as a reaction to my room. "Three jobs. That seems like a lot at seventeen. We're still in school. Shouldn't we just be living?" he asked like it was the logic that absolutely everyone in the world followed. He looked at me with an eyebrow raised just before he pushed the car forward again.

I snorted to hide the fact that I really wished I could follow that logic. "I'm still only sixteen," I enlightened him. "And helping out at my mom's is only a thing I do when my schedule is light and I decide I want something to do for some extra cash. Which is exactly why I have three jobs," I finally replied to his response. "I may not be planning to go to a conventional college, but it still won't be cheap. Having four kids and all, my parents don't really have a college fund for all of us." I shrugged even though I knew he wouldn't see it.

"Makes sense then," he rationalized, nodding. "Do me a favor though?" he inquired and then looked over at me. Curious and feeling his gaze on me, I turned in the passenger seat to meet his eyes. He looked serious, which was something I hadn't expected out of him after the kind of conversation we'd had this short afternoon. "Live a little before you work yourself right into college. Maybe you'll see why I… am the way I am." I knew he was talking about the detail I had gotten so worked up about.

I couldn't say living would make me cheat on someone who wanted everyone to believe we were so in love, but the basic advice wasn't all that bad. As we pulled in front of my mother's salon, letting us see everyone inside through the large windows out front, I nodded. "I think I'll do that. Live, not cheat," I confirmed, managing to crack a smile. "And thanks for the rides. Even if you had nothing better to do, you didn't have to drive me around." I purposely left out what we'd talked about at my house and the apology for it. He gave me a smile and a shrug that said no problem and I grinned back before slipping out the door.

Neither of us said goodbye or mentioned seeing each other tomorrow at school. We simply waved at each other after I shut the door, and then he pulled away while I paced to the front door. I was greeted warmly as soon as I stepped inside and I said hello to everyone as I walked through the salon. In the back room, I found my mother working at her desk. I kissed her cheek as soon as I walked in the room and left my purse on the floor in a back corner. When I turned back around though, I was surprised to see my younger sisters.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked, readily excepting the hug Kaylee threw around my middle. Lilah continued to slouch in the chair against the wall though she kept glancing longingly at the sofa on the other wall, probably wishing for a nap to escape her boring afternoon. But she was the one I was looking to for an answer since our mom was busy and Kay was clinging to my hand, clearly not wanting to speak. It wasn't any of the three of them that answered.

"I brought them!" Nic announced brightly as she came into the room. She wore the same shirt that I did, except that she didn't sweep up hair and she didn't work here only whenever she wanted. For some reason watching my mom do what she was good at all the years we'd been friends, Nic had gotten interested in it. The moment vo-tech was offered to us in ninth grade, she'd taken the opportunity and started cosmetology. She wasn't licensed yet, but my mother was more than happy to take her on and let her practice as much as she could. Much like I just had though, she dropped her purse in the corner and then headed back out the door.

I followed. "But why?" I questioned, not even bothering to specify what I was talking about. Of course she knew.

"Trix asked me to pick them up," she told me, barely turning around. Because my mom didn't give a damn about what other professionals would think and because Nic was practically family, she even had her own station to which we now made our way to. Hell, my job here wasn't even a real one since everyone here cleaned up after themselves. Because of this, I plopped myself down in her chair until I was needed and let her see the face that repeated the question I'd already asked. "Didn't she tell you?" The same face from me as a reply. "Your dad's coming to get them. I think you, too, actually," she continued since she thought I would ask anyway. She pulled the hair tie from my hair then, letting my locks fall on my shoulders so she could experiment with styles. I groaned and slapped both my hands over my face, and it had nothing to do with her playing with my hair like she always did. "You don't want to see your dad? I know he hasn't been the ideal father lately, but you're still close." As if I needed reminding about either.

"It's not that," I said, slowly raking my fingers down my face, pulling at the skin, before slapping my hands, palm up, back onto my knees. "I've just had a weird afternoon." Turning my head just in time to see my father's familiar SUV pull in front of the building, I knew it wasn't going to get any less weird.