The Dixon's Best Friend. [Daryl Dixon Fanfiction.]

The Boy Scout.

I'd never really planned a part before, or been to many either. I mean a few when I was younger, but as I got older and closer to the Dixon's we realised parties weren't our scene, sure drinking was theirs just not at a party. 

Thankfully Michonne was at the park that sat half way between my school, and hers. She smiled bright and wide as I approached her.

"Hey! Where were you yesterday?" She says hugging me tightly.

"I just didn't bother going into school." I answer with a little laugh.

She rolls her eyes and pulls me down back onto a bench. 

"So.. eighteenth birthday party?" I question slowly.

She grins. "Mom says I can throw it!" She squeals loudly, happy out.

"That's so great! Just one warning, I've never actually been to a party, like kids parties but not like proper parties."

"Dude that's so okay. Look I've everything nearly planned, it's just we need to be A) Matching. Don't roll your eyes at me I've wanted a matching best friend for my eighteenth birthday since I was like two. And you need to be there two hours ahead so you can help me set up."

"So you have music and food and stuff already?"

"I've been planning this since I was twelve. Everything was sorted like six months ago."

"So who's coming?" 

"Like the entire town. I'm not joking. My parents know like the whole world, so all their friends will be there, like all my school will be there. Like half of your school will be there. And I've told people to bring people. It will be the biggest party of the year. Trust me!"

I nod more to myself than her. The biggest party of the year. I've never been one for parties, or crowds, or loudness. But I'll deal with it for Michonne.

"Oh and I'm wearing grey. So you're wearing grey. Grey something." She shrugs smiling widely.

"I don't have to wear a dress do I? I don't own one." Michonne shakes her head thankfully. "Just don't wear what you usually wear."

"What's wrong with what I usually wear?" I exclaim offended. I glance down at my muddy boot, ripped jeans and oversized old hoodie.

"Nothing, just it's not for a party. Try jeans withou a rip in them. And not an oversized hoodie. And clean shoes."

"And pink eyebrows, and blue hair, and different coloured eyes, and a unicorm?" She laughs, and then so do I.

"No, just clean up. That's all."

I scoff at her. "Michonne, do you think I do clean?" She grins and shakes her head.

"Oh!" I say nervous of my next question. "By any chance can we invite this guy called Rick - and his friend Shane of course."

"Rick Grimes? He's coming already... why?"

"No reason." I lie - badley.

"When the hell did you meet him?"

"They came to my door, going on about the dance in the community centre." Michonne nods smiling wider than usual. "I go every year, my parents give money to the scout troop so I have to go."

"I kinda want to go too."

"Because you like Rick?" I shake my head, too quickly. 

"Ooooh!" Michonne squeals - which she's never done in her life before. "You doo."

"I don't! Shut up!"

Michonne throws her head back and laughs. "I've nothing to wear." I admit scuffing my shoe on the ground.

"Okay you can stay at my place on Friday, you can wear one of my dresses! This will be brilliant!"

#~#~#

The first thing I did when I got home was ransack my wardrobe in hope to find something I could have clean for two weeks from now at the party. I came up empty handed. 

After through my wardrobe for a good half an hour I gave up, nothing I owned that was grey was suitable for Michonne's party. I scowled and rolled onto my back. I had homework to do, the house was a reck and my arm was killing me. 

The first thing I did, was shove all my clothes back into where they were supposed to go. Crumpled and unfolded. It's not liked they ever were. 

I pulled my backpack over towards me, I had no intent of doing homework. I just really wasn't in the mood. My arm ached but it also begged for more, and I was leaning towards the latter feeling. 

But I didn't give in. Instead I threw my backpack away from me and got to my feet. I needed to tidy the house, and in the process search for money to buy something grey for Michonne's party. I was broke. Completely broke.

The house was't that big, but it was very dirty. Two hours later I had just finished pulling the cushions from the sofa in search of coins when there was a hammering on the door. I glance to the clock that read nine o clock.

It wasn't like it was the neighbours, they didn't want anything to do with me.

I frowned confused at the closed door. Whoever the hell it was banged hard on it again.

"Someone's impatient."

I got to my feet and made my way to the door. I peered through the pane of glass at the side and gasped pulling the door open faster than lightning.

"MOM!" 

The smile that broke across her face would have melted Simon Cowell's heart - if he has one. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" I gasp seeing the bruise on the side of her face. "What happened your face?"  

"It was Jonathan." She says as if it's nothing.

"Who? What? Mom what are you doing here? Where's your car? What are you wearing?" I grimace my eyes scrapping the tight body con dress she's wearing.

"Jonathan, my boyfriend." She stops and sighs. "Ex-boyfriend." 

The realization creeps slowly over me. "Mom. We need to report him to the police." But she shakes her head.

"No, he's bring us to the courts, he's rich, we can't afford that." 

"Mom."

"JUST LET ME IN! FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!" She screams shoving past me. Her arm slams against mine and I yelp in pain. She ignores it. 

"Where did all the pictures go? Where did my plants go? WHERE ARE THE PINK CUSHIONS!?" She screehes turning on me, her anger flaring.

"Mom calm down. OKAY. You need a long hot bath and to sleep." 

"I need to fix this house."

"MOM!" I roar and she stops in her tracks. "Your ex-boyfriend beat and abused you, you've most likely been drunk every other night. You haven't been eating properly in days and you were living at least three towns away. You walked here, in pink heels. You need a bath and to sleep. Do not argue with me."

My mom rushes towards me and collapses agaisnt me, tearing flowing from her eyes like Niagra falls. She doesn't say anything she just clutches at my shirt sobbing violently. I groan knowing she'll be a wreck for weeks. 

I'm just out of hopsital. And now this.

But I take a deep breathe and whisper soft words in her ear. As before I'm the one comforting her, I'm doing her job. A teacher of mine says that when your parents have kids, it's a decision they make to give their lives up to help build yours. 

He lied.