Chapter Twenty-Three
Breaking Point
The phone rang for the fourth time this morning. I stared at it, not picking up. And waited for the name on the screen to disappear. Dylan, I saw from my bed. I ignored its persistent chirping. I couldn’t move, I didn’t want to. The mere act of getting out of bed made feel nauseous.
“Don’t you have school today?” Asked Tom, poking his head through the gap in my door.
“Yes. Yes I do,”
He waited for me to move, to get out of the bed and start getting ready. But I didn’t. So he merely left, saying something about making coffee.
A thought dawned on me then. In a few minutes Dylan’s car would be stopping in front of my street, for him to drive me to school. I cringed at the thought of seeing him, Ethan’s words were still fresh in my memory.
Ambling through the room, I grabbed a pair of shorts and what I hoped was a shirt that matched. My hair would have to do, for I bolted down the stairs in record time, speeding into the kitchen.
“Tom?”
He turned around, handing me a mug of coffee, “Yes?”
“When Dylan stops by, tell him he doesn’t need to drive me to school,” he didn’t ask why, he just nodded, but not before his eyes casted a worried glance in my direction.
The doorbell rang a while later. Tom opened the door, as I hid with my back pressed against the kitchen wall.
“Thank you either way Dylan,” said Tom.
His voice was soft as velvet, tinted with a small drop of concern, “I’ve been calling her all morning, is she alright?”
The edge to his voice was like a blow to the stomach. It made its way to my head, making me feel sad over the way he worried about me.
Tom must have nodded, for Dylan respectfully thanked him and walked out of the house. The soft purring of his engine indicating he was speeding away. Not a minute later, my phone started buzzing again, Dylan’s name appearing on the screen once more.
“You’re not answering that?” Tom asked as he returned.
“No,” I poured some cereals into my coffee.
“Aren’t you going to see who called?”
I shrugged, hating how the cereal began turning bland.
“Haven’t they been calling all morning? They seemed pretty insistent,”
I shrugged. So he dropped the subject, collecting my coffee mug and dumping it in the sink.
My Mother strutted into the kitchen then, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She was engrossed in her iPhone, too busy to say a simple good morning.
My phone buzzed again.
“Is everything alright?” Tom’s eyes skimmed over the vibrating phone, as they rested on my blank expression.
“Define alright.”
My Mother rose one of her well plucked eyebrows, her eyes showing nothing but nonchalance. But apart from that she ignored me, and resumed typing on her excuse for a phone.
“Want me to drop you off at school?” Asked Tom.
I mumbled a yes.
“What about that boy I met? Daniel?”
YOU ARE READING
Eight Letters. Three Words.
Teen Fiction"I don't feel anything towards Dylan Miller." Leela nodded, combing through the messy knots in my hair. "Whatever you say." "I'm serious!" "Look, just try not to move so much this time," she said, making me feel happy as she dropped the subject. "...
