NAOMI'S POV:
"Mr. Davis please." I pleaded with him over the phone.
I heard him sigh, "Where does she live?"
"What's your address?" I whispered.
"626 Gardner Road." Haylee shuffled the books in her hand and tapped her foot impatiently.
"That's right down the road." Mr. Davis said to him, clearly overhearing Haylee and probably the other thirty students crowded in the hallway. "Do her parents know?"
"Yes sir." I answered in earnest. "I can walk home afterwards since it's down the road and I'll be home by dinner."
"What about your homework?"
"All I have to do tonight is work on my article for Journalism and Mrs. Saines put Haylee and I together for that."
Things have been going slightly better with school; I've been focusing more on Geometry and actually did much better on our last test. Hopefully I can still mange to get an A in the class, that would be a nice surprise to bring back to Mr. Davis.
"Please Mr. Davis, please."
I could hear him contemplating; the fidgeting in his chair and tapping of his fingers.
"Alright, go ahead. I want you home by 6 o'clock."
"Thank you!"
"You're welcome. Have fun, Naomi. You deserve it."
Hearing that made me grin from ear to ear; I really needed to hear that. But, in the moment, I was so excited that I immediately hung up and followed Haylee outside before the bus left.
____________________________________________
"Wow, your house is really nice." I commented toward the beautiful blooming flowers that surrounded her white porch.
The base of her house was a sage green with white windows and a wrap-around porch. The patio furniture consisted of a light wick that was protected by navy blue pillows. Despite the difference in colors, it somehow reminded me of my old home . . . and all the summers I spent gardening with my mom.
"Thank you!" She opened the door, letting herself inside and stepping to the right for me to enter. "My mom loves gardening, her and I plant new seedlings every year."
Yeah . . . we used to do that also.
Stepping inside, we both took off our shoes and left them neatly tucked next to the door. The inside was less attractive than the outside, it was still a decent looking house but the inside was definitely more outdated than the exterior. There was a staircase immediately to the right and the left was the living room with white walls, brick shelves and a dark green carpet that swallowed the brightness of the room.
"Here, come meet my mom." She lead me into the kitchen where her mom was standing by the stove, stirring something that smelled delicious.
"Mom," She went to the fridge and offered me a water bottle, "this is my friend Naomi. We met in Journalism."
Her mom responded with a bright smile, wiping her hands on her apron before addressing me: "Hi Naomi, sorry about the mess."
What was she talking about? This place is spotless. Sure there were a few bowls on the counter, but they clearly were in use.
"There's hardly a mess. It's nice to meet you ma'am." I said clearly.
"Oh, no ma'am in this house," She laughed, setting her hand gently on my shoulder. "I refuse to age. You can call me Kristy."
I smiled, "Kristy."
She glanced at her cabinets, "Are you girls hungry? Dinner won't be finished for a few more hours but I can make a snack.'' She seemed to be extremely hospitable.
"I'm okay, thank you though." I said politely.
"Thanks mom, but we're just going to go upstairs."
"Wait," She interrupted Haylee's seemingly anxious escape. "Naomi, are you okay with eating spaghetti?"
"Oh, um, thank you so much for the offer but my . . . I have to be home at 6 o'clock for dinner." My chin darted straight to my chest, trying to shake off the awkwardness.
She nodded, recognizing it instantly, previously being filled in by Haylee. "No worries, maybe you can join us another time."
"Thank you."
"Have fun girls."
Rushing out of the kitchen, I followed her up the darkly green carpeted staircase that wrapped around once before exposing its climber to a white hallway with four closed doors. They were exactly identical down to the door knobs.
"This one is the bathroom." She pointed to the first door on the right. "My room is next door."
When she pushed it open I was immediately overwhelmed by the loud yellow color that conflicted with many of the dark posters she had pinned on the walls. Her bed was plaid white and black and she had hardwood floor but it was covered by a light grey rug. The trims on her window was a natural wood. She had the view of the side street that led to the school but it was so small that you could hardly see her neighbors house.
"Is your favorite color yellow?" I skimmed my fingers along the characterized wall.
She scoffed, "No, it's red but my parents wouldn't let me repaint so I'm trying to cover it with posters."
Nodding, I awkwardly looked toward her knickknacks and thought of how misplaced she seemed in her family. She definitely was as kind as her mom, but there was something much different about her. It's almost like I'm looking at a caged animal just waiting to be freed.
"So I have the poster paper, are you okay to work on the ground?" She reached under her bed and pulled out two giant blank boards.
"Fine with me," Dropping my bag in front of me, I squatted on the ground, "I brought my colored pencils, markers, glue and everything else we needed."
She pulled a board in front of her and handed the other to me. "Great, thanks for that. Do you want to make the one for the school play and I'll do the one for the Homecoming game?"
"Sure."
The play was on the Wizard of Oz, only members of drama or choir could audition for the play. Not that I was interested; I can't sing to save my life. But Haylee was somewhat bummed when she found out, apparently she really wanted to tryout for the role of the evil witch. That about sums up her personality.
Homecoming is on the first Saturday of October, just a few weeks away, which means the football game will be on the Friday beforehand. I assume Jasper and I will go together . . . pending Mr. Davis's approval so I need to make sure that we both behave. At least up until then.
I tried to think of everything I knew about the Wizard of Oz to incorporate it into the poster. I know Dorthy's dress is blue and white, which is perfect because I have blue and silver glitter that I can make for the background and I was thinking a ruby red glitter for the title. That should definitely be eye-popping. Maybe a striped background with blue and white and a big title in red glitter with some event information at the bottom.
Yeah, that sounds good. I like that.
"Do you think you'll go to Homecoming?" She asked, pouring some green glitter on her title.
I bit my bottom lip, anxious that this will turn into a conversation about the Academy. "If I'm allowed, I'd like to go with my boyfriend."
I love saying that.
She nodded, "Bryan asked me today," beaming she looked up to see my reaction.
"Oooh." I smiled at her. "What did you say?"
Laughing, "I said yes, obviously. He's so cute." she tried to hide the smile on her face.
"That's really great, Haylee. Do you have any idea what you're going to wear?"
She shrugged, "My mom will probably take me dress shopping."
I nodded, trying to remember the last time I went shopping with my mom. But, somehow, all I can remember is going with Sarah.
"Haylee Marie!" A loud, boisterous voice called from behind the door as a marching effect echoed in the hall.
"What's that?" I asked, startled by the apprehension forming on her face.
She stood from the ground, but motioned for me to stay where I was. "My dad."
Storming inside, a pompous man with a large black mustache marched directly to his daughter, ignoring me in the process. He trampled over the sign she had spent the last hour making, crushing some of my colored pencils and other supplies.
"Dad this is my friend." She motioned to where I was, but he only glanced at me.
"I didn't know we had company. Young lady, will you wait in the hallway? I have to talk to my daughter."
"Yes sir." I said anxiously, standing to remove myself from the tension.
Haylee seemed worried but more out of the fear of getting in trouble rather than anything harmful. But there was something else there, something that made my gut twist and turn upside down.
She nodded her head when I stopped midway and I, out of respect for their privacy, closed the door.
"Dad I can. . ."
"Be quiet." He barked at her, clearly with no intention of keeping their conversation at a quiet level. "I explicitly told you that you weren't allowed to take Journalism, I said you should have taken Anatomy."
She defended, "The class list was full, it was either Journalism or study hall."
"Then you appeal to the teacher or the Administration. There is always another avenue, you just give up too easily."
There was a moment of silence and I, as I'm sure Haylee could, felt a sudden drop in my heart at his harshness.
"I had to find out from Ethan's mom. I told her she was mistaken; that my daughter wasn't in journalism but she showed me the article you wrote. You think it's okay to make a liar out of me?"
"Make a liar out of you?" She seemed appalled by his words, and understandably so. "I told you that . . ."
"I said be quiet!"
"You asked me a question!" She fought back, but that only fueled his anger.
I heard a loud smack that caused me to flinch, even from in the hallway. It triggered the same fear I have during punishments but this one was more sudden than most. The Academy has always conducted punishments methodically, never arbitrarily or as a quick result.
I could hear his hand firmly grasp the door knob, pulling it open. "We'll continue this conversation after your friend leaves." Turning to me, he asked: "Do you need to use our phone to call for a ride?"
I looked past him, to the small opening and I could see Haylee's head was jerked toward the side. There was a tear sliding down her cheek and being halted by her fingertips as she held her cheek and closed her eyes. She said nothing more, she only stood there while the pressure mounted in her head as the rage shined clearly on her face. My conscience was screaming for me to jump to her defense, he did ask her a question directly, it was his fault for not being clear enough if he meant it rhetorically . . . but I was afraid of making things worse for her, and a small part of me was afraid of also being reprimanded in the same way.
He cleared his throat, waiting for my answer. "N-no sir, I actually live right down the block. I'll be walking home."
Nodding, he turned his attention back to her, glaring at her bitterly before continuing out the door and down the hallway to leave.
"Haylee." I went to her immediately.
"This was an accident."
Shaking my head, I tried to grab her hand but she pulled away. "It's alright . . ."
"I'm sorry Naomi." She knelt down instead, picking up everything that was ruined.
"That's okay, don't worry about it." I began pushing everything toward me so she wouldn't feel the need to pick it up herself.
"Let me help you." She continued, her voice breaking.
Haylee was now was fighting back her tears, trying to process the alarming tensions festering inside of her chest.
"It's alright Haylee." I grabbed her hand forcibly this time, patting it for comfort and trying to direct her attention to me.
Her knees caved, she began silently squeezing out a few tears, losing her breath in the process.
"What happened?"
"He-he just gets so angry about my school work. He told m-me that I should take Anatomy instead of Journalism but I didn't listen." She wiped her eyes on her sleeves. "I didn't think he would find out, I just really wanted to take the class."
"We've already passed the Add/Drop Period, so I don't see what you can do . . .. You're already in Honors Biology and Forensics, why does he want you to take three sciences."
She shook her head, "He wants me to be a doctor so he thinks all the science electives will be best for my education."
I tried not to make a face of pity, but her tears were making it extremely difficult.
"Do you want to be a doctor?"
Once again, she shook her head as she tried to take some deep breaths. "Not really. I want to be a writer." Making a long face while glancing at the posters we were making, she stopped herself from crying. "But he says studying writing is a 'waste of time', and anyhow that I'm not creative enough."
"Maybe you can talk to him? Your mom seems really nice . . .."
"You should go," She interrupted, gathering the papers and pencils and handing them to me. "before he comes back."
I nodded, trying to eb understanding, "Okay, we can talk more in school. I hope you have a better weekend. . . text me later."
I shoved everything into my backpack, not wanting to leave of course but I should respect her desire to be left alone before enduring another confrontation from her dad. Sometimes, after a punishment from Mr. Davis, especially after I've disappointed him, all I wanted was to be alone. It was effective, thinking time and self-reflection.
Haylee always seemed so cheerful in school, she was proactive and had a great attitude . . . when I pictured her home life, this isn't what came to my mind. From the way she acted in school, to how brightly she showed her passion, you'd think that she was someone who had all the support in the world. But I guess everyone has whitecaps in their lives, there's no such thing as smooth sailing.
Neither of her parents spotted me as I walked out the front door, they were too busy talking amongst themselves in the kitchen. I was torn between feeling sorry for her and being angry at him, I don't know which feeling was stronger.