Bad Decisions Make Good Stories

- 7 -

Seven

Jet was right; dinner with my parents was horrible. It was all What college are you going to? and Have you started applying yet? finishing with Orlando was already getting acceptance letters around this time.

I barely talked. I mumbled and nodded in all the right places until they dropped the subject, only to pick it up mere minutes later. By the time we left for the fundraiser, I was in a bad mood. It didn’t help that mom made a comment about what I was wearing. It was all Why didn’t you dress up? and You look sloppy Maranette.  Personally, I thought I’d put in more effort than what I was initially dressed in. I’d come downstairs in my Converse but she sent me straight back to my room to change.

My fists balled and I gritted my teeth in frustration. I loved my parents, I did, they meant well most of the time but sometimes they really drove me up the wall. Now that Orlando barely called and Gareth never had the opportunity too, they’d turned their attention to their other children, namely me. They were pushing to know what I wanted to do when in fact; I had no idea at all.

The fundraiser was well underway when we got there; people littered the main hall of the surf club and spilled onto the front balcony that overlooked the main area of the beach. We said hello to all the people we had too and just as I’d expected, Boxer nagged at me to come to work. And just as Jet expected, Hendo came to my rescue. When Boxer left in a grump, Hendo embraced me like one of his own. A smile found its way to my face. Hendo, the nickname originating from his last name Henderson, was my dad’s age and one of my father’s best friends. He’d seen me grow, and I counted him as family.

Eventually, he was dragged away by a booster so I was left to fend for myself. I greeted a few of the girls I knew but I didn’t linger to chat. Most of them were prissy California girls with rich daddies and the rest were surf rats. I didn’t fit into either category.

Taking a seat in the far corner, I pulled out my phone. With any luck, I only had to stay here for an hour before I could leave. It was only a fifteen-minute walk along the sand until I was home so I was hanging on a hope my parents would let me disappear.

I was playing Candy Crush when a familiar voice spoke up near me. “You look lonely.”

I sighed and looked up. Noah stood in front of me holding two flutes of champagne, looking as if he stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine with his chinos, boat shoes and pale blue shirt. I raised an eyebrow. It was a change from the hats and hoodies but he fit in nicely with the other tan teens littered around.

“Shouldn’t you be off chatting up some hot chick?”

He shrugged. “All in good time. I usually find that they come to me, there’s no need to go looking.”

I faked a gag an he grinned, offering me the extra flute. “Drink?”

“Thanks,” I said taking it from him. I took a sip and it was bitter in my mouth. Champagne was an acquired taste, one that I didn’t like.

He sat in the empty stool next to me, sipping at his glass. His gaze roamed up and down me. “Well, today is a definite achievement from last night. No Christmas socks today?”

I blushed. “Not one of my finest moments but let me remind you, you were in my house so you don’t get to judge.”

He raised his champagne. “Touché.  I won’t say the socks won’t be missed, because they will. And the ratty sweater too. Very high-end fashion.”

I nudged him, frustrated, and he chuckled.

“Sorry we can’t all look like models,” I muttered. I gestured to his clothes. “Definitely different to what I’m used to. For a second, I could’ve convinced myself you weren’t a druggie.”