Ugly(10)

“It’s after dark, this isn’t really the best neighborhood and I’d feel better knowing you got home okay.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my neighborhood,” I protest angrily.

“I’m not saying it’s bad, it’s just not great.”

“Honestly, I’m fine. I’ve lived here all my life, and nothing’s ever happened.”

Trent lets go of my hand, tilting his head to the side and lifting his eyebrows. The look makes me laugh. “I’m not taking no for an answer,” he says, giving me a cute look.

Slumping my shoulders, I know he’s not going to let this go until he’s walked me home. “Okay,” I finally relent. I mean, what bad could come from it?

As we walk home, Trent and I talk about the movie and I tell him what I really liked about it. It was an experience in itself, being in an unlit room with all those other people. As we round the corner on my street and get closer to home, I see Dad’s car is in the driveway.

Damn, he’s not supposed to be home tonight! Why is he home?

My legs suddenly become leaden and I find it difficult to take those steps toward my house. My heartbeat accelerates and I can feel sweat beading on my forehead.

No, no, no. Please be asleep. Please be asleep.

“Are you okay? You’re shaking,” Trent says, as he squeezes my hand in his.

I simply nod, but keep my eyes glued to screen door of my house. When Trent and I are two houses away, Dad opens the front door and steps out on the small porch. He looks down the street, then up straight in my direction.

At first he looks past me and away, he then runs his hand over his face and through his hair. Within seconds he whips his head back to me, finally registering that I’m walking home with a boy. Instantly I let go of Trent’s hand and hang my head down.

“What the hell is going on?” Trent whispers to me, trying not to draw attention to me.

“Nothing, please go,” I respond in a frantic, pleading way.

“Like hell, Lily. Tell me what’s going on?”

“Where have you been?” Dad yells at me.

“Just go,” I whisper to Trent. Wrapping my arms around my body, I take off toward home, leaving Trent and not looking behind me.

“Lily,” he calls, but I ignore him.

I get home, climb the first creaky step and Dad’s blocking my path inside. “Imagine my surprise when I get home, and a certain ugly little bitch isn’t here,” he says, but his tone is slightly slurred. I know he’s been drinking, which means I know what I’m in for.

“Sorry,” I mumble with my head lowered, not daring to look into his angry eyes.

“Get inside,” he spits as he puts his hands on his hips. I still don’t dare look at him, but I can see his movements from the corner of my vision. His stance alone tells me he’s angry and his words just confirm it.

I’m in for it now.





School today has dragged on. It seems like the hours haven’t moved at all. Every time I look at the clock it seems like it’s stuck on five past two. It doesn’t move.

I look down at my math book, look up and it’s five past two. Mr. Daniels, my math teacher explains an entire problem, how to break it down and how to work it out, and when I look at the clock, it still says five past two.

Why is the hand not moving? Why is time standing still?

I tap my pencil on my book, and look out the window. The rays of the sun are reaching my desk, and the chatter of other students melts into white noise. I really can’t wait until I see Trent today.

All weekend all I could think about was Trent. What he was doing, if he was thinking about me and mostly, I was hoping. Praying he didn’t think I was ugly and stupid, because of the way I left him.

Finally I hear the last bell for the day, and I walk as fast as I can to the bus. Sitting at the front, I try and blend in, so no one notices me. No one ever does, but there have been times when the pretty girls, who dress nicely, look at me and snicker among themselves.

The bus fills at a steady pace, and it feels like I’ve been sitting here for three hours just waiting for the bus driver to leave. Of course, it’s only been a few minutes.

As the bus pulls out onto the road, something funny happens to me. I get butterflies flapping their wings crazily in my tummy. And I can feel a smile bloom and widen as the bus halts at every stop, bringing me closer to mine.

My tummy back flips, knowing in a few minutes I’ll see Trent. I stand and wait by the door as the bus begins to slow, cruising into the stop.

As the bus rolls to a stop, I see Trent standing under the shelter. He has his school bag on his shoulder, and his arms crossed in front of his chest. His light brown hair is flapping against the wind and he looks like he’s waiting for me. Well, I hope he’s waiting for me.