Take This to Your Grave

I woke up too early Monday morning. I laid in my bed for about an hour before I got up to shower. My back hurt from lying down too long; I had made sure to turn the hot water up. Afterward, I dressed and went down to have a bowl of cereal. It wasn't long before my dad follow suit; he stayed in the kitchen for a bit until I went in there; "I need to call Kate--"

He cut me off, "I called her last night."

I gave a small nod, "Alright. I'm ready when you are."

My dad looked at me, biting the whole bottom of his lip, "Don't be angry with me."

I frowned, "I'm not angry, do I look angry?"

"No, but I wanted to make sure." He smiled, but I didn't return it; I didn't want to.

I was not angry, I was upset; there is a difference. The things he had said the day before still floated around in my head. I felt saddened when I looked at him; I felt like this big ton of bricks weighing on the both of us. Of course, I was the biggest brick of all, on his shoulders.

"Ready?" He finally asked.

"Yeah." I answered.

I grabbed my rucksack and led the way out the door.


I was quiet the entire day of school; I had no energy to socialize. Kate kept probing me about my dad calling; he apparently didn't explain why I was forbidden to see anyone outside of school. I didn't want to answer her, and I didn't.

At lunch, I poked at my food, the whole day had been a drag. Seth kept trying to talk to me and I apologized several times for being out of it. After, he had patted my back and told me that I could talk to him whenever.

I kind of smirked and replied, "I can't. I'm grounded."

The words were foreign; I've never been grounded before. I've been sent to me room for being a little brat, but never grounded. As I said, the concept was foreign. My dad never grounded me, we were...like friends in a way, but it's changed now. Head of household has shifted and my dad became King of Suburbia.

School ended swiftly and Kate caught up to me, "Okay, c'mon, Nay--"

"Please stop calling me Nay." I told her softly. "I don't like that."

Kate looked taken back, "Sorry."

I stopped and leaned against a vacant locker, "No, I'm sorry." I swallowed, "I just...I'm not in the mood...me and my dad got into it, y'know, and he said some stuff that's rubbin' me the wrong way."

Kate leaned against the locker to my left and hummed, "What happened?"

"He caught Pete in my room."

She gasped and turned her head so fast, Linda Blair would've been jealous. "What?!"

"Relax, Katy, you dropped me off 2 minutes before he caught him. Pete climbed into my bedroom for some damn reason, I screamed, dad caught us." I explained, Thats all."

"Oh." She said disappointedly. "That's why you're on lock down?" I nodded. "Bummer."

"Yes, indeed, bummer." I got off the locker, "He's waiting, I gotta go."

Kate grabbed my arm, "Wait, I need to tell you something."

"What?"

Kate looked around, "Walk slow."

I raised a brow, but followed my friend's lead, "Okay...?"

"Alicia's got a crush on him, y'know, and she told me something."

I frowned, "Alicia has a crush on who?" I pushed opened the exiting doors towards the crowded parking lot.

"Pete." She whispered.

"So?" I shrugged; lots of girls had a crush on Pete; including me, so how could I even be jealous?

"She told me she hooked up with him during spring break!" Kate exclaimed in a whisper.

I stopped, "What?"

Kate looked at me and pressed her index finger against her faded pink painted lips, "Shh!"

"Hey, I just said what!" I snapped. "Why did she tell you and when?"

"She told me on Saturday, after we dropped you off." She licked her lips, "She told me not to tell, and I was gonna tell you yesterday--"

"Why?" I questioned.

"Why what?" She frowned slightly as we began to walk, slowly.

"Why did she tell you?"

"I don't know. I think she's lying because she's jealous."

I scoffed and rolled me eyes, "Whatever."

"Anyway, I wanted to tell you because I wanted you to ask Pete."

I shook my head, "I never want to speak to Pete Wentz again," I was lying.

"Because he climbed up your window?"

"Yes. This happening let me know how my dad feels about me, and I'd be happier not knowing."

Kate touched my arm as we saw my dad's truck, "I'm sorry, Naomi."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." I said softly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Kate smiled faintly, "I'll see you. Oh!" She called after me, "Babette wanted you, but I'll tell her you can't come."

"Yeah, alright." I waved as she turned towards her car in the parking lot.

I jogged over to my dad's awaiting truck and got in. He didn't say anything as he drove off, but he did once I spotted that we were heading on the freeway; "I have to check in on my crew."

"Okay."

"Are you hungry?"

"No, just a little tired."

He kept his eyes forward and didn't speak again. I fiddled with the radio until I found a decent station. The music filled the quiet and slightly awkward air in the cab.


It was another quiet night in my bedroom. The window outside blew branches against my window, I could hear the wind whistle along with whack of the tree. I felt hollow still, the strange feeling wouldn't go away; in the deepest part of my heart I missed my mom.

I hadn't felt that way before. I've never missed my mom. She's never missed me, but yet, here I was. I never missed anyone before; just Pete and my dad; no one else. It was such a strange feeling.

I got up, turned on my desk lamp and my CD player and played Oasis, since I hadn't in a while. I grabbed the notebook Pete had said he had returned and a pen; I began to write without thinking.

Love can't save you. You feel strange and homesick for places you don't want to be. Sick of places you've never been. Longing for people you despise. You hate what you love. Love what you hate. Nothing make sense and sense makes nothing.
You don't know what to do or what to say. You think unruly and can't justify what makes you, you. What makes him do the things he has.
It's either Dad or Pete, I can't choose. They both make me so happy, yet harbor and say things I don't understand. That's why I miss my mom. That's why I miss how much she doesn't want me.
None of it makes sense and I hate it. I don't like this feeling. I want to go somewhere that isn't here; I'm homesick of the places I've never been because it's not here. It's not Chicago or New York; Wilmett, Manhattan.

I shut the notebook, feeling some relief. I swallowed it all, put down the notebook, shut off the lamp, but kept Oasis going. I laid down in my bed and sang along until I fell asleep.