The Cliche Gone Wrong

Chapter Twelve

"Okay, Jazzy," Mrs. Hayes continues after a beat of silence.

The girl that has been staring at me for the entirety of dinner finally shifts her eyes to her mom, somewhat excitedly filling her in on the things that have happened while at school. Her eyes still flit over to look at me every few seconds, although now that everyone's attention is on her she tries not to make it too obvious. I suddenly realize that I recognize her, having seen her around the high school a couple of times. I think she's a freshman, maybe a sophomore.

Her story ends quickly as well, before Mrs. Hayes turns to Killer. Killer rolls her eyes as she starts to recount some of the things that have happened to her. I listen intently; curious to find out what happens when I'm not around her. I pretend I'm not hurt by the fact I'm not mentioned once, even though I don't know why I would be. What would she say? "This is the asshole who doesn't even know my name yet somehow found out where I lived and was invited to dinner"?

As Killer wraps up Mrs. Hayes takes over smoothly, concisely telling us about her day at work. I smile politely, surprised that out of everyone at the table she turns to me and smiles back. I look down at the table, playing with the bits of food still in my bowl.

Holy shit, am I blushing? I don't fucking blush!

As I try to gather myself and stop acting like a little bitch the table grows quiet, everyone turning to face me. I look up confused, trying to figure out why everyone is staring.

"Well Jude," Mrs. Hayes smiles again. "It's your turn."

"Oh no, you don't have to do that," I cough, unable to look at her or anyone at the table.

"This is my house, I know I don't," she laughs, eliciting a giggle from Killer as she looks at me smugly. "But that's one of the rules if you eat dinner here. You have 30 seconds to tell us about your day, but since this is your first time you can talk about your life, your week, your family, anything you want."

I clear my throat, for once uncomfortable with the attention I'm getting. "Uh, um, well..."

"Listen," The kid Mrs. Hayes called K finally pipes up as he leans forward, surprising me with his intensity. "I can't leave the table until everyone talks. No one is going to remember what you said years from now. So say something quickly so I can go back upstairs and play 2K."

"Kahlil David Hayes!" Mrs. Hayes gasps, slapping her hand down on the table. "I don't care if you just turned 13. Remember you're never too old for me to whoop that ass."

My mouth drops open at his boldness and her threat. I look to Killer for help, trying to figure out if this is normal, but tears are leaking out of her eyes as she cries with laughter, unable to hold it back any longer.

"Do you need to leave the table?" Mrs. Hayes says to Killer, not laughing in the slightest.

Killer's laughter turns into a dry coughing, as she rubs her eyes, looking down at the table. "I'm sorry, Momma. I'll be good."

"Jude," Mrs. Hayes doesn't look at me though, still glaring at Kahlil. "Your 30 seconds starts now."

I fiddle with my fork as I speak quietly, hoping that no one will be able to hear me. "Well, I had a pretty good day at school. I only had conditioning for Lacrosse twice this week because the season hasn't started." I struggle to think of what else to say, just now realizing how long 30 seconds really is. "I also found out that my parents are going on a business trip for a couple weeks, so that's cool. Umm...is my time up yet?"

"That's fine Jude," Mrs. Hayes smiles again. "Thank you for sharing."

Everyone jumps into motion then, K and Jazzy gathering a bunch of bowls into their hands as they cross into the kitchen and then disappear out of sight. The little kids leave the table too, taking their bowls with them. I move to grab mine but Killer takes it from in front of me as she swoops past into the kitchen. That just leaves Mrs. Hayes and me in the dining room. I don't know whether I should leave or not, but she holds me in her penetrating gaze, as if she sees everything about me. It's the same way that Killer was looking at me earlier.

"So where are your parents going?" She asks, making no move to leave.

"I'm not sure," I squirm under her gaze, suddenly sure she could whoop my ass too if she wanted.

"Do they leave often?" She questions.

"Every once in a while," I downplay the situation.

"Well," she smiles as she finally moves to stand up, "regardless of what my daughter says, you are more than welcome to come over to our house any time."

"Thank you Mrs. Hayes, I'll come back over whenever I can," I smile.

I follow her out into the kitchen, watching as Killer rinses off the bowls that are now in the sink. I stand there awkwardly as I look at her. Is she washing those dishes by hand? Doesn't she have someone that can do that for her? Or can't she just put them in the dishwasher?

Mrs. Hayes pushes Killer lightly out of the way as she takes over, cleaning up the mess from dinner. "Don't you have a basketball game to go to?"

Killer smiles as she kisses her mom on the cheek, before grabbing her phone off the counter and heading for the door. I call out my goodbyes to Mrs. Hayes as I follow Killer out the door. But before I leave, I take one last look behind me.

Jazzy is lounging on the couch, looking at me every few seconds as she whispers furiously into her phone. Kahlil is nowhere to be seen, but I can hear him yelling from somewhere upstairs. The kids have also disappeared, probably playing in the little amount of time left before bed. And Mrs. Hayes is in the kitchen, swaying back and forth to the music playing from the radio she just turned on. This place seems so, homey. I don't want to leave.

I shut the door before I'm caught lingering, following Killer down the front steps to where our cars are parked.

My house isn't like that at all. We never have family dinners. My mom is never in the kitchen cooking dinner, or cleaning up after a meal. I don't have any siblings to play with, or talk to about my day. Killer's dad wasn't there, so I guess that was the only thing that matches up.

I tell Killer I'll meet her at the school as I get into my BMW, slamming the door behind me. My hands are shaking; causing me to drop the keys before I can even put them in the ignition. I don't even reach to grab them, just sitting there for a second as I try and get a grip on myself. And one thought keeps racing through my mind over and over again.

Is this what I've been missing out on?

A/N Sorry this chapter was so boring y'all, but believe it or not I have a lot of trouble writing cliches so I'm running out of material. Don't worry though! I'm not bailing on NaNoWriMo and I'll make sure to get my second wind this weekend.

Comment, like, and let me know what you want to happen next!

Much Love,

Naomi