Take This to Your Grave

I left the Wentz household after a while; Pete and I talked about bands the whole time. We had a lot of the same interest; a lot of dislikes, though. Somehow, we were similar and it made me feel warm inside.

He was becoming a true friend. I didn't understand what it was that attracted me to him. I think, maybe, it was how forbidden his friendship was. My dad didn't know about it; he didn't even know I left the house. He had told me I needed to leave the house more, not just the small walks I took Princess on.

For the next few days; Pete and I hung out, mostly going to get ice cream or to the cemetery. He wasn't too open often, but he did ask a lot about me. I told him about my mom.

We were lying in the grass again, only this time, we were at another mausoleum. We stared at the sky, he asked and I answered; "She's like one of those pampered high society women. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yep. My school was full of 'em." Pete let out a sigh, "Do you think she loves you?"

"I don't know." I answered truthfully, "I can't remember the last time she said she loved me."

We were quiet, as usually are. Pete turned his head, the grass rustling, "Do you love her?"

I looked at him, "I don't know."

"Do you love your dad?"

"Of course," I looked back at the sky; the clouds were thick in the sky, the sun high and bright. "He's the only person that I truly love. He's... He's done a lot for me."

Silence. And a car entering the cemetery, idling by, probably noticing us lying here, like dead bodies. The car finally passed, and then Pete cleared his throat; "You've love a boy?"

"No." I shook my head, "I've never had a boyfriend."

"For real?"

"For real."

He let out a laugh, "I've never met a catholic virgin before."

I smirked, "Congratulations."

He sucked in a deep breath; "I'd like to thank Naomi Valentino for keeping her legs closed just so I could accept this award."

I laughed and looked over at him; he laughed, too, his eyes squinted. I sat up, "You're too funny."

"I tell bad jokes," he said; he still laid there, hands tucked behind his head. "I'm not funny."

"Yes you are." I sang. "I wish you were my age so you could come over and stuff without my dad thinking you'd ravish me."

He rolled his eyes, "When I was 16, that's all I wanted to do."

"Pervert." I retorted.

He winked at me and still with that smile of his. I laid back, looking at my watch; "It's 2:30."

He sighed, "I like it here. I wish we could stay all day."

"Me too."

Pete and I didn't leave the cemetery until 3. We were quiet the entire way; he stopped in front of my house; "Tomorrow night."

I remembered the party; "Really?"

He nodded, "Yes really. We'll talk tomorrow."

"Alright." I waved to him.

Pete gave a small wave back and walked over to his own yard. Just when I was having an okay day, he threw this at me. Anxiety is a bitch.

My anxiety pretty much cooled down by the time my dad came home. Surprisingly, I felt at ease and weirdly excited about sneaking out. I had before, when I was friends with the catholic sluts at school. Now, I was sneaking out of my dad's house. I should've felt bad, but I didn't.

"How was your day?" My dad expelled a small sigh as he sat beside me.

"It was okay." I answered, flipping the channels.

"Does pizza sound good?"

"Yes, sir." I grinned at him.

He laughed and shook his head, stood up and went to get the phone. As he walked away, I thought about making up a lie, saying I made friends and was invited to a party. But, I weighed the pros and cons of it; he may've want to meet them. I kept mum, my mouth completely shut about it. My dad returned, sitting beside me as he ordered pizza; once he was off the phone, he looked over at me.

He stared for a moment, and I looked back, "What?"

My dad gave a shrug, "You look a lot happier, kiddo."

"I am happier." I affirmed, "I like you better than my mom."

"She wasn't all that bad..." My dad's voice trailed, "Was she?"

"She never let me do anything. She thought I'd get pregnant just by being next to a boy."

"Marlena doesn't want you to end up like us."

"I won't. I'm not stupid."

My dad laughed, "We weren't either; it was all drunken stupidity, y'know."

"Don't worry dad, I don't even like to drink."

He raised a brow, "Oh, and how do you know that you don't like to drink?"

"I'm a teenager, I have my ways of getting alcohol."

He just laughed, "I learn something new everyday."


My dad had fallen asleep on the couch around 9, leaving me to go up to my bedroom. I exhaled heavily as I knew the hour would come that Pete would want me to go out. And I thought about it; how was I suppose to know when to leave?

That thought didn't brew long; a shadow crept through my opened window and curtains. I let out a yelp as a figure slipped in; I scolded myself when I saw Pete; wearing tight black jeans and a shirt with a band I've never heard of.

"I knew you wouldn't be ready," he spoke with disdain, "I'll have to dress you, huh?"

"No." I stated. "What do I wear anyway?"

Pete looked me up and down; "This is a party, something comfortable. You need jeans, t-shirt and sneakers."

I only nodded, watching Pete waltz pass me and to my closet. I felt self-conscious in that moment; I didn't own many t-shirts like his. He sighed, and turned back to me; "You know anything about Lifetime?"

I shook my head; he was referring to the band on his shirt. He slipped it off and tossed it to me; he wore a plain white shirt underneath; "If anyone ask you about them, tell them your favorite song is Turnpike Gates."

"Why?"

"Because it's my favorite song," he grinned. "Now, get dressed."

I swiveled my index finger, "Turn around and shut your eyes."

He frowned, "I've seen boobs before, Naomi."

"Not my boobs."

"You're wearing a bra, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"C'mon, I'm not gonna do anything."

I sighed, "Find me some jeans in my dresser then."

Pete turned and went to my dresser. I pulled off my blouse quickly and slipped his shirt on; it fit perfectly on me. The thought made me smile, "We're the same size."

Pete turned back to me, "I like my clothes tight."

He toss a pair of faded jeans to me; "How come?"

"I just do, I don't know." He answered, too, with a shrug.

I began to pull my sweats down, but stopped; "Turn around."

"I've seen ass too." He smirked, "I wouldn't mind seeing yours."

"Shut up and turn around, Funny Man."

Pete laughed, but did as I said. I quickly pulled my sweats off and slipped the jeans on. He turned back right when I got the zipper up and buttoned. "Get my shoes, please."

He grabbed my shoes and handed them to me. I pushed my feet into them and then exhaled, "I'm ready."

"You look great," he complimented, "My shirt makes you look good."

I rolled my eyes, "Lead the way out."

Pete went towards the window, while I locked my bedroom door and shut the light off, leaving my desk lamp on. I followed him down the landing, and near the drain pipe; I was nervous as hell. Pete scaled off of the roof like nothing; he jumped down, landing on his feet.

"I can't." I muttered suddenly. "I can't get down."

"Jump," he urged, "I'll catch you!"

It was so dark out, I could barely make him out under the moonlight. The cool air blew through me, causing me to shiver; "No."

"Naomi," he began, "I'll catch you, I promise. C'mon, we don't wanna wake your dad."

"Promise?" I asked him, "You'll catch me?"

"Yes, I promise you. I'll catch you."

I sucked in a deep breath and walked closer to the edge, and began to climb the pipe. I jumped without a thought, landing in Pete's arms. My heart was beating so fast, my arms wrapped around him; "Holy shit, I thought I was gonna die."

He laughed and set me on my feet, "You looked like Bambi tryin' to walk on ice."

I shoved him playfully, "I was scared! Feel my heart!"

I took his hand and put it to my ribcage over the shirt. Pete laughed again, "Damn."

I released his hand; "All right, bad boy, lead the way."

Pete unexpectedly took hold of my hand, "Keep close."