Take This to Your Grave

I woke up way before my dad; I took a shower, dressed and then put my things away. My room was exactly as I had left; the assorted nail polishes I wasn't allowed to wear in New York were still on my vanity, along with the pictures of the small amount of friends I had from Manhattan and trinkets, small gifts. My book shelve, though, had new books and old records; I'm guessing my dad dug them out of the basement. The star and moon wallpaper was still the same, the lamp with the superglued piece was still alive, along with my notebooks inside the bedside drawer. Even the glow-in-the-dark planets were on the ceiling; I jumped on my bed and traced my fingers over them.

"Naomi!" My dad called up to me, "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah!" I hopped off the bed and jogged down the stairs.

I entered the kitchen, the TV blaring a football game. My dad stood in the kitchen with a woman; a woman with dark hair and this loving warmth of a smile. I smiled back at her, "Hello Naomi, do you remember me?"

I nodded, "Yeah, hi Mrs. Wentz."

She embraced me in a hug, "How are you, honey?"

"I'm fine." We parted, "How are you?"

"I'm good. Your dad says you agreed to walk Princess for me."

"Of course, I'd love to." I sat at the counter.

"Andrew would do it, but he's all kinds of lazy," we laughed softly. "Hilary is looking at colleges, and Pete," she exasperated, "He's another story."

"Don't worry about it, I can walk a dog."

"$5 is a fair price?" She asked.

"I'll do it for free if you'd like. I got nothing else better to do this summer."

"I insist," she patted my shoulder, "Can you come over tomorrow?"

"Yep."

She smiled again, "Great! I'll see you, honey. I just stopped by before my lunch break ends."

"Bye Mrs. Wentz," I said as she waved and headed out.

"See ya, Dale." My dad called to her.

Once the door shut, my dad looked over at me, "How does cold cereal sound?"

"Do you not hear my gut rumbling, dad?"

He laughed, "Cold cereal it is then."

I traced my fingers on the black, granite counter top as my dad got the cereal, spoons and bowls, having set the milk before me. "So, Pete's her oldest son?" I asked absentmindedly.

My dad sat beside me, sliding a bowl over, "Uh, yeah. He's a troublemaker."

I frowned, grabbing the spoon he lent out, "I don't remember him."

"That's because he was in a detention center whenever you would visit. Or at some soccer camp, or somethin', I don't know." My dad replied with cereal in his mouth.

"Andrew never said anything about him either," I said to myself. "Well, Andrew never said much of anything, he used to just stare at me."

"That's because he liked you." My dad joked.

I rolled my eyes, "Boys don't like me. I'm not girly enough, you know that."

"You're plenty girly." My dad turned his head towards me, "You look like a girl."

"That's not what I meant," I said to him, "Mom kept from wearing makeup and nail polish so boys wouldn't knock me up. Yet, she wanted me to go on a date with her friend's 18 year old son."

"Glad you didn't." My dad, again, had cereal stuffed into his mouth.

"Me too."

After our afternoon breakfast, dad and I prepared to go to the store for groceries. He had to return to work the next morning and wanted me to be prepared. He was tying his shoes upstairs when he called down; "Go check the mail, will ya?"

"Alright." I muttered back.

I opened the front door and stepped out; I could hear a dog barking and kids laughing. I could hear older boys talking, I smelt their cigarette smoke. I stepped down the few steps to the porch and squinted at the sun; I walked down the pathway, out the picket fence and to the mailbox. I fished my hand into the open lid and landed on some envelopes; just as I pulled them out, I heard a whistle, directing my attention to my right.

"Hey," a raspy voice said.

There were 3 boys; one with dark hair, facial hair and a tank top with a pentagram star; one without a shirt, cartoon pajama bottoms, dark hair, a thorn necklace tattoo over his chest and a bat tattoo under his belly button; and the last looked around my age, he had a baby face, with a lip ring and short bleached blonde hair. They were all grinning; the boy without the shirt had whistled and spoke to me.

"What's your name?" He started walking over, his friends hung back; all looked amused.

I pulled my hand from the mailbox, letters in hand; "I'm Naomi."

He opened his mouth, "Ah-ha. You're the Naomi I hear about." He stopped right in front of me and leaned against the fence, "Do you know your name backwards is I Moan?"

We were the same height. He was short for a guy.

"Aren't you clever?" I smirked at him, muttering my words sarcastically, "And, you might not want to lean against that," I added, "It's kinda loose."

He grinned this infectious smile. It was wide and childlike, and it made me feel sick. Not a bad sick, a crush sick.

"Thanks." He said quickly.

"For what? The fence or saying how clever you are?"

He let out a raspy laugh that matched his voice, "Both."

I exhaled, "You're welcome. So, what's your name?" I asked.

He scoffed, laughing, making my sick feeling flutter away. He was a prick; I thought. "You don't know who I am?"

"I don't know who you think you are." I muttered, feeling a bit annoyance toward him.

"Relax, doll face. I'm Pete."

My brows lifted, "Oh, you're Pete. I'm gonna be walking your mom's dog tomorrow."

He raised a brow back at me, "You're the neighbor girl." He chuckled after a second.

"I guess so." I shrugged. "Hey, where's your brother Andrew? I haven't seen him in a while."

Pete tweaked his lips, "Asleep most likely. I'll tell him you said hi."

Before I could respond, my dad called my name from the front door, "Naomi, c'mon, we gotta get a move on."

We both looked at my dad. Pete waved, I saw XXX in big black lettering tattooed across his left wrist, "Hey Mr. V, this your daughter?" His finger pointed toward me.

"Yes, she's my daughter, Pete."

Pete stepped back, "She looks like you." He mused with a small chuckle.

My dad came down the steps and towards the fence, "Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah," Pete cleared his throat, "I'll see you around."

"At school?" I asked curiously.

He laughed, "Good one."

I raised a brow, watching him walk back towards his friends. He had a large circle tattooed on his back and another, what looked like a banner, across his upper back.

"Was he giving you trouble?" My dad asked.

I shook my head, "No. He's weird." I mumbled.

Dad smiled, "C'mon, lets go."

I followed my dad to his truck, but I looked back at Pete. He smiled, that wide grin, and I turned back.