Becoming Beautiful (Wattys2014)

| Chapter 22 |

Chapter 22

I arrived home at 12:21 AM. My mother knew that I was going to be getting home late so she was sitting on the couch watching a movie when I arrived. She quickly hit pause on the remote, stopping the movie. She turned towards me, patting the spot on the couch beside her. Slowly, I walked over and sat down next to her.

“So, how was it?” she asked me.

“It was fun,” I responded with a slow nod.

“Did you dance with anyone?” she asked with a knowing grin.

“Yeah, I danced with Floyd and some other guy; I forgot his name,” I shrugged.

“What about Noah?” she asked. “Are you guys okay now?”

I nodded as I stared at the television. “Yeah, but he didn’t want to dance.”

“But you guys talked?” she asked.

“Yeah, we did,” I told her with a small smile on my face. I still dont' know why he was mad, though. “In fact, we’re going to be hanging out tomorrow- just the two of us.”

“A date?” my mother asked with furrowed eyebrows. “I don’t want you and him alone at his house."

I quickly began shaking my head. “No, mom, not like that,” I was blushing furiously, “We’re going guitar shopping.”

“Since when have you been interested in playing the guitar?” she scoffed.

“Since a while ago, mom, get with the program,” I told her.

“You mean since you found out that Noah plays guitar,” she told me with narrowed eyes.

“No, mom, I’ve wanted to play for a while. I think dad would be proud of me if I learned how to play a new instrument,” I told her.

“He wouldn’t be proud of me for letting you spend so much time with Noah,” she rolled her eyes.

“Noah’s a good guy. I think dad would like him,” I nodded as I stared at the floor. “The two of them have the same taste in music.”

“Noah likes rock?” she asked.

I nodded, laughing quietly. “Yeah, every time we’re in a car together, he puts on at least one Green Day song.”

“Your father did that,” my mother mused. “But he would sing along and he was terrible.”

Laughing, I nodded. “I remember.” We sat in silence for a few moments as we reminisced about my father.

“So, you’re going to learn the guitar?” she asked.

I nodded with a smile. “Yeah, but I need guitar money.”

Giving me a smile, my mother laughed. “How much do you have already?”

“Seventy, not including my old birthday money,” I told her.

My mother narrowed her eyes at me. “I’ll give you money, but you have to do a lot more chores around here.”

“I already do enough chores!” I told her.

“No you don’t! You’re lazy!” she responded. “When you were little—,” she began.

“Is that a fat joke?” I cut in. My mother stared at me for a minute before breaking into laughter. I joined in, laughing loudly with her, just like I would a few years ago, when everything was okay.

<<>><<>> 

I woke up late and when I say late, I mean 11:30 late. Normally on Sunday evenings, I’d sleep in until about 12, maybe a bit earlier, and sometimes a bit later, depending on the weekend’s events. And getting home a little after midnight, being interviewed by my mother, and not being able to fall asleep until one (because Dakota was too hyper) took a toll on me. So the moment I woke up, I immediately jumped out of bed and dove towards the closet, intent on getting ready quickly.