Breaking Free

I walk off away from Jackson. I can't accept the ride home from him because I know that it's only going to end in disaster for me. If my father found out I accepted a ride home from someone, he would flip out. Especially if it was of the male variety.
My father has been very adamant all of my life that I am not to have anything to do with boys. I am also a little leery of them myself because it seems to me that there would be an easy chance that they would be just like my father and I refuse to put myself in a situation like that willingly.
I can hear Jackson's truck following me down the street, he's going no more than a few miles an hour and I pick up my pace to show him that I'm not going to agree to the ride.
The faster I go, the faster Jackson goes. If I slow down, he slows down.
The boy is very adamant and I have to admit that I'm getting kind of annoyed.
"Go away," I call over my shoulder.
"Not until you get in," Jackson laughs.
"I'm not getting in, you're just wasting your time," I tell him turning around and throwing my hands up in frustration.
"You'll give up eventually," Jackson says smiling at me.
"Ugh!" I exclaim and spin back around. Over compensating for the dirt, I slip and fall on my ass.
"Are you okay?" Jackson laughs.
"I'm fine," I glare at him. The fact that he's laughing at me is making me even more mad at him.
I stand up and brush myself off. I grab my fallen backpack from the dirt beside me and pull my glasses down onto my face because I'm afraid they might fall off.
Before I can start walking again, Jackson steps out of the truck and walks over to me, standing in front of me so I can't walk forward.
"Get in," he all but demands.
"No," I say standing my ground.
"Why won't you accept a ride from me?" he asks.
"I already told you, now, please, I have to get home or I'm going to be in trouble," I say.
"You'll get home quicker if you let me give you a ride, I swear I'm not an as wielding, psychopath," Jackson says with a smile.
"I don't know you from Adam. I was taught not to take rides from strangers," I say trying to walk past Jackson.
"Fine, but I'm following you home to make sure you don't die or something," Jackson says with an even bigger smile, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.
"You're a jerk," I glare at him.
"Thank you," he replies with a smile that lights up his eyes.
He is so dreamy. I think to myself. I am very happy that he's talking to me since he's the only person in almost 8 school years that's said a single word to me.
I walk past Jackson and make my way home. I check my watch and can tell that I'm going to be later than I was yesterday and I'm hoping beyond hope that my dad is passed out. This is probably the only time that I'll ever think those thoughts.
If he's awake when I get home, he's going to know something went down and then he's going to question me. I don't want to answer anything he has to ask because that means I'll have to lie and I haven't always been the best liar when it comes to him.
I stalk off toward home and I can hear the truck still putting along behind me and I roll my eyes. I also can't help the small smirk that marks my face. I'm actually being followed by a boy.
"Stalker," I yell back.
"Only for you," Jackson yells out of the window.
I laugh heartily. It's the first time I've really laughed in a long time.
"Is that a smile I hear?" Jackson calls over the motor.
"Nope," I lie with a smile still on my face.
I can't help the feelings that are going through my body at this moment. My heart is soaring and I actually feel like I'm floating on air.
Even though I'm feeling on top of the world, I also feel exhausted. I've been walking for about two miles with Jackson behind me, but where I didn't sleep well the night before, it's starting to catch up to me.
I stifle a yawn as I continue to walk. The further I go, the better the truck sounds to me. I want nothing more than to be seated comfortably inside of its cab and to have a quick ride home. Six miles is slow walking, but in a vehicle it seems like it's nothing.
I stop in my tracks and I hear Jackson use the breaks and turn the truck off.
"Is something wrong?" He asks as I turn around.
"Are you going to follow me all the way home?" I ask.
"Why yes, yes I am," he answers with a grin and his hand still on the door handle.
"Fine. I'll take your stupid offer," I say, "But you have to stop when I tell you to."
"Okay, I'll take that," Jackson agrees.
I walk up to the passenger side of the truck and open the door. I throw my backpack inside and climb in beside of it.
Once I'm seated safely in the cab, I pull my sweatshirt out of my bag and pull it over my head. Once it's in place, I adjust my glasses and pull my seat belt over my chest and fasten it at my hip.
"Ready?" Jackson asks.
"Ready," I say.
We ride in silence. The four miles from where I got in the truck until we reach the intersection where I have Jackson stop seems to take forever. I feel extremely nervous.
"Stop here," I direct him.
Jackson stops at my cue and turns to look at me, "Are we at your house?"
"No, I live around the corner, but my father might kill me if he sees me getting out of a car with someone," I answer.
"Oh, well, in that case," Jackson says, adjusting the bill of his hat with his right hand.
"Thank you for the ride," I say.
"It was all my pleasure," Jackson smiles again.
I reach to open the door, but Jackson has a hold of my backpack preventing me from pulling it.
"What?" I ask.
"You're more than welcome to ride with me anytime, Lina," Jackson says sweetly.
"Believe me when I tell you, that may be the case, but you wouldn't believe how unwelcome it actually is," I say before jerking my backpack strap out of his hand and exiting the truck.
Jackson gives me a small wave before pulling back out into the road.
I straighten my sweatshirt and make sure that my glasses are on my face straight and start walking the final block to the house.
To my surprise, my father's truck isn't in the driveway. I hope that he's not at the school waiting for me.
Once I get inside, I find my father passed out on the couch. This surprises me even more because he never leaves the truck anywhere.
I tiptoe into my bedroom and deposit my bag and shoes. I change quickly into a plain white tee shirt and a pair of faded jeans before going into the living room and waking my father up to see what he wants for dinner.
I must have startled him, because he wakes up swinging and lands a blow to my right hip.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to wake me up?" my father mumbles.
"Sorry, daddy," I say in my sweetest voice. "I just wanted to know if you wanted dinner or not?"
"No, I'm not hungry," he says hatefully, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
"Okay, well, I guess I'll go do my homework then, let me know when you get hungry," I tell him softly.
He grunts in response and lays back down on the couch.
I walk quickly to my bedroom and pull all of my books out of my backpack. I scatter them on the desk and one subject after another, I finish all of my homework within an hour and a half. I didn't have a lot to do, so I was thankful for that.
I am feeling extremely sleepy and would love a nap, but I know if my father catches me sleeping, it won't be pretty, especially since he's already in a bad mood.
My thoughts travel back to Jackson and the ride home. I had expected to feel awkward in his presence, but surprisingly, I wasn't.
There has never been a time since my mother died and everything started happening that one of my peers actually went to any length to ensure that I made it home when my dad didn't show up.
I had been left at the school numerous times, even when I was younger. I made that trip more times than I'd like to admit. I liked getting the exercise, but I didn't like the reason I had to walk.
My father ends up sleeping for the rest of the evening and at ten o'clock, I get dressed for bed and snuggle deep into my pillow.
My sleep is once again restless because Jackson's eyes are haunting me. The way they sparkled when he laughed at me was stuck in my head. He looked generally amused and I smiled at the thought.
I managed to get a little more sleep than I did the night before, so when six in the morning rolled around, I was ready to go to school.
"Shoot," I mutter to myself. I just remembered that my dad's truck was no where to be seen when I got home from school and that probably meant that he wasn't going to work today.
I exit my bedroom and go to the kitchen to fix breakfast, but to my horror, the entire kitchen looks like it has been ripped apart.
I can't believe I slept soundly enough to sleep through my fathers rampage.
I dodge him in the hallway as he storms past me to the bathroom.
I hurry back to my bedroom and shut the door quietly behind me. I have to find a way to get out of the house and go to school or else I'm going to suffer his wrath along with whatever household item he chooses to demolish.