Crossroads: Book 1

Chapter 8

Elena

Sprinkling rain blankets me, providing a cool relief from my heated confusion over Mike.  He just left.  What did I say?  I don't think I said anything wrong. 

The rain is turning into heavy droplets.  If I don't get inside soon, I'll be cold and drenched.  I pick up my thoughts from the muddy ground and jog over to my front door. Dad isn't home yet; the cop car he picked up from the station on our first night isn't in the driveway. As I enter the house, I notice that many boxes haven't been unpacked yet.  In need of a distraction, I welcome the fully stacked boxes with open arms.

After getting the kitchen supplies all unpacked and put away in various places within the small kitchen, I decide to make dinner.  There isn't much food to choose from because we just took what was in our cabinets from our old house.  I settle on spaghetti. Taking my hair tie from my wrist, I pull my hair back and fill a pot up with water. Dumping the contents of the spaghetti into the pot, I watch as the steam fills the air.

As the noodles cook, I text dad: Making dinner, will you be on your way soon?

I really didn't want to have dinner by myself.  I had a really weird day, and I want to talk with my dad about it. 

Maybe I should call Rachel.  She must be dying to know how my first week is going. Pouring the sauce into a pan, my phone vibrates.  Unlocking the screen, I see a text from my dad: Great! Be home in about twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes is a good amount of time to talk with Rachel while getting dinner ready. 

"Hello?" Her voice is always so cheery.

"Hi Rachel, oh my gosh, I've missed you!" I exclaim.  I really do miss her.

"Elena! You've only been gone for five days – you can't miss me that much." Her smile over the phone is contagious.

"Oh, Rachel, you have no idea.  My first week at this school has been so weird."

"What happened? Who do I need to beat up? Tell me everything." She sounds a little worried. I laugh out loud at the thought of her trying to beat someone up, not that I don't think she can't. She can. Her older brothers have taught her well.

"I don't even know where to begin." I tell her about my classes, and then I encourage her to share how her day was.

The inevitable strolls in, and Declan comes up. She squeals so loud on the phone that I have to remove it from my ear.

"Is he cute? Are you going to go out with him next Saturday night?" she asks.

I swirl the sauce around with the ladle and ponder, then let out a sigh. "He's... not unattractive." I turn the knob for the spaghetti to 'low.'  "I'm not sure, Rach.  I don't really know him all that well..." drifting off, Mike's words slither into my mind causing me to doubt Declan's intentions. "He wants to f**k you," "I don't trust him," "something about him is off"...Rachel's voice cracks through his overpowering statements.

"You have almost a little more than a week so, you can always cancel if you feel uncomfortable with him, El. Besides which, that's what dating is for - to get to know someone." Turning the burner on simmer for the sauce and checking the noodles one last time, I smile.  She's right.  It's nothing I really need to worry about right now, but that doesn't stop me from bringing Mike up.

"There is this other guy –" before I'm able to continue, she cuts me off.

"Another guy? How many guys are after you, Elena! My goodness!" she squeals.

"Just one guy," I laugh. "This other guy – Mike, he's strange." How do I describe him?

"How so? Is he hot?" she asks over the receiver.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I lean into the counter next to the stove. "Eh," I laugh awkwardly because he is more than hot. "He's my neighbor, and for some reason, he's in every single one of my classes. When he found out that I was thinking about going out with Declan, he freaked out! He claims he is just neighborly, but he really doesn't like or trust Declan.  The man doesn't want me to have anything to do with him.  He keeps sending me mixed signals too."

"Does he know Declan?"

"I don't think so - he's a transfer student as well.  Although he has been living next door for a while before we moved here," I answer while thinking back to when I first met him on the front lawn in my robe. How long has he been here? Does he know something about Declan that I don't?

"Weird." Silence. "Well, maybe he likes you too.  Maybe he's just jealous or something," she offers in thought.

My nose scrunches as I glance at the sauce to make sure it isn't bubbling too much. "I don't think that's it.  He made it very clear that he is just looking out for me because I'm his neighbor. Apparently, that's what people do here.  It also doesn't help that my dad seems to be very keen on him and so quickly. I mean, I know dad knows him, but I have never heard his name come out of dad's mouth." I roll my eyes as I start to see headlights from the window in the kitchen.

As I am saying my goodbyes to Rachel, Dad walks inside.  Rachel makes me promise to keep her up to date about my "love life." It causes me to laugh, but I agree.

I set my phone on the counter. "You need to lock that door, whether you're inside or not," my dad barks, catching me off guard.  He does this sometimes.  Out of the blue, he will be moody.

"O-okay. Sorry." I just thought that with how safe this town seemed to be, it wouldn't matter.

He sighs, takes off his jacket, and places it over the chair as he walks towards me with his arms open. "I'm sorry, kiddo," he says as he brings me in for a hug.  "I just had a long day." Leaning over the stove, taking in the aroma of dinner being prepared, he says, "Dinner smells good."

After pulling out of his hug, we set the table for the two of us while he talks about his day, and we begin to dish the spaghetti with the sauce onto our plates.  He rolls up his white dress shirt sleeves as to not get any food on them, and I see the tattoo.  I've asked before where he got it if it meant anything to him.  All he ever said was that it was a dare during spring break one year.  A skull head with pistons crossed over it - why did he have to get such a menacing-looking tattoo? Couldn't it have been a lightning bolt, Scooby-Doo, or... something else?

Following some uncomfortable silence, my dad asks how school was like he has every day since my first day.  I tell him more about my teachers and my classes; he nods his head as he listens. I swirl the pasta around my fork and decide to tell him about Declan; he nearly spits out his water. 

"What?" He's shocked.

"Well, nothing is set in stone; I can still back out." I try to soften the blow. "But so far, I would like to go whenever he asks me." A wrinkled spot on his tie causes me to zone out.  He stares at me for a moment. I've never been on a date before; this is new territory for both of us.

He brings a napkin to his mouth. "Does Mike know?" Why on earth would he care about that?

Hesitantly, I respond, "Yes.  He does... why?" I cringe as the memory of Mike's words flood my mind again.

Dad shakes his head. "Well, he's been going to and from school with you. I wasn't sure if you both talked about it.  What does he think?"

I'm feeling a little impatient and ticked off. "Why does it matter what he thinks?  I'm the one going on a date, not him.  How are you so okay with him anyway?  I don't get it!" I don't realize my voice is getting so loud. 

Dad remains calm, but his eyes are blazing. He seems to be struggling with what he wants to say. "He doesn't like him, does he?"

I can feel my face turn hot.  "No, he doesn't." My voice cracks at the last word. "Answer my questions – please?"

Scooting back in his chair, he rests his arms on either side of his plate.  His knuckles knock on the oak wood table three times before looking at me. "Like I've said when I introduced you two: I-I've met Mike on a couple of occasions while interviewing for my current position and looking at this house," he pauses. "I also knew his family while I was growing up.  I know he's a good kid." The thought that my dad knew his family brings in a bit of understanding. "Besides, you don't think I'd let him around you if I didn't do a background check, now would you?" A playful smile dances on his lips.

I smile back at his playfulness as he clears his throat. "How did you know his family?  How long have they all lived next door?"

He runs his hands over his face. "So many questions." While I wait for an answer, I discover a chip in my glass, probably from the move or maybe from the unpacking.

"His dad and I went to school together. We were friends. It would help if you listened to him. He's wise beyond his years, and he can read people very well." My eyes cut to him; he used the same phrase as Mike did earlier today about reading people.

Dad sighs. "Do you have any homework tonight?" He's diverting.  He does this whenever I try to get anything out of his past.  His present.  Any information from him at all, really.  I've become so used to it – I drop the matter and trust his judgment on Mike.  I won't tell him that I'll still go on a date with Declan.  Not tonight anyway.

"Yeah, I have some English lit homework." My voice sounds heavy.

Shortly after our bizarre conversation over dinner, he helps me clean up the kitchen with conversation about Rachel and how her first couple of days at school without me were.

Taking my homework out of the backpack, I sit back down at the kitchen table to rack my brain around English lit. Staring down at my notebook, I try to answer questions about the chapters we are supposed to read in Lord of Flies; my mind keeps dancing between the green-eyed boy and dad's tattoo.