Chapter 1 - Beginning
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FLASHBACK - 6 years ago
Hannah Montana played on the big screen, occupying my attention, juice box straw between my teeth when the phone rang. I'd been so bored the beginning of the summer because my twin best friends, Norah and Niyah were on vacation in Florida for almost a month with family. I was deprived of my usual summer fun with them.
When mom didn't come after the four rings, I pulled myself up from the floor, leaving behind my empty juice box to answer it myself. I didn't even acknowledge who was calling before pressing the green button.
"Mandy," a woman's voice weeped on the other line and I became concerned, realizing I suddenly had no business answering. I slightly panicked and tried my best to stay quiet as I frantically ran up the stairs to find my mom.
I found her cleaning the bathroom and hurriedly thrusted the phone towards her. She gave me a confused look before glancing at the contact name. She held the phone up to her ear with her shoulder as she continued to clean.
Still concerned with whoever was on the phone, I stayed silent, chewed on a hangnail and listened to find any context clues of what was going on with the woman on the line.
"Beth?" mom questioned into the phone. I knew Beth as one of mom's friends she spoke to often on the phone but I'd never seen her around. I couldn't hear what was being said but mom stopped what she was doing, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "What's going on?"
"Can I go to the park?" I whispered to mom, who was too distracted to tell me differently, so she simply nodded like she was dismissing me to care of Beth.
"Oh my God—okay, calm down. It won't get dark for another two hours. We'll find him," mom said comfortingly but she sounded distraught herself. "Why don't you head over here now."
I could hear mom continuously soothing Beth who seemed to still be crying as I disappeared into my room to put tennis shoes on. I ran down the stairs and out the door, grabbing my scooter from off the porch and strolling down the sidewalk.
The sun beamed down on me, already causing my skin to form sweat but the summer wind blew against the warming skin and it felt amazing. Summer was ultimately my favorite season of all time.
The old small lady that often walked her ratty chihuahua around the neighborhood offered me an appreciative smile when I politely strolled around her but the small dog yapped and tried to run after me like it usually did whenever people came too close. I chuckled, looking back as the old woman tried to calm her rat.
I could see the empty park a few feet ahead of me and became excited as I realized that I had the place to myself—especially the swings.
I threw my scooter down in the overgrown grass and ran over to the swing, placing myself on the heated seat. I began to push myself back and forth with my feet and once I picked up the highest speed and butterflies tickled my insides, I stared into the baby blue sky in awe. I wished Madi and Emily were here but when the wind pushed against my skin and curled hair, I was content at that moment.
I swung for about fifteen minutes before my attention was taken by a small white kitten underneath the picnic table. My eyes slightly widened and my mouth became agape in awe. I immediately stopped myself on the swing to go try to steal a pet from the kitty.
"Kitty," I said softly but when I got closer it began to run away. I watched as it ran to the play set on the playground and go into the little space underneath. I followed slowly until I realized the kitten wasn't the only one inside.
A little boy was sat with crossed legs in the corner, petting the tiny kitten as it purred and rubbed itself against the boy contently.
"Is that your kitten?" I asked, bringing his attention to me but he only shook his head without looking up at me.
"Do you know whose it is?" I continued, feeling awkward by the overly quiet boy. He paid no attention to me as I was bent down observing the kitten. I wanted to take it home to my mom if it was just wandering around. It wasn't an option for me to just leave it when it only looked about a month old.
He shook his head again and I began to wonder if he was okay. Maybe he was just shy but why was he just sitting under here? Finally, he glanced up at me quickly and in that time I noticed his dark eyes were red and glossed over and I knew something was wrong.
Then I followed down to his hand where he held a tissue littered with red spots.
"Are you okay?" I questioned quietly in concern, hesitant to come in the little area.
"Yeah," he finally spoke but his tone was weak and hushed. He tightened his hold on the tissue in his hand, realizing it was in view.
I eyed him wearily for another second and debated in my head. I didn't want to leave him here when something clearly was wrong but I also didn't want to intrude.
"What's your name?" I decided to ask. If there was any way I could help then I would try my best.
"Dylan," he responded quietly.
I observed his flushed spotted cheeks and his pink lips that were set in a straight line. He ran a hand through his short hair, really short hair. He wore a black t-shirt and dark denim jeans that were dusty from the dirt and mulch he sat on. He wasn't an ugly kid but he also wasn't the best looking kid I'd seen. I blamed my big crush on Lincoln Ross at the time. I remember wanting everyone to look like him.
The kitten came to me and rubbed against me and I smiled down at it. A small meow spewed out and I wanted so badly to take it home and take care of it. I didn't know how mom would feel but surely she would understand my concerns about it.
"I'm Lydia," I told him even though he didn't ask. "How old are you?"'
"Thirteen." His stare was shy and he kept glancing away from me. "What about you?"
"I'm twelve. My birthday is in August though, so I'll be thirteen before I know it."
He gave me a weak smile that didn't stay for long and a sniffle came from him. I frowned slightly, an idea coming to mind.
"Do you live close?"
He nodded. "I live a few blocks away."
"I live just down the road," I stated. "Do you like popsicles?"
The question was random and even then he didn't look at me like it was. He slightly chuckled before replying, "I do."
We were walking back to my house and the sun was setting an orange and pinkish hue. It was mesmerizing. Dylan had agreed to come eat popsicles with me when I asked. I asked him to roll my scooter back while I carried the kitten but he only agreed if he could ride it. I laughed and told him if it made him feel better then yes.
"Wouldn't your parents be mad you're going home with a stranger?" I asked skeptically since he hadn't even questioned it, though I was glad I potentially came off trust worthy. I glanced at him riding slowly beside me on my scooter.
"You're not a stranger," he said. "You're Lydia."
This made me laugh and even a small smile broke out on his face and it reached for his eyes but not completely. I was glad I could at least help his mood a tad bit.
"I don't really care what my parents think anyway," he then said almost bitterly and before I could ask anymore questions about that comment, he asked me, "Would your parents be mad that you're bringing home a stranger?"
"It's just my mom," I informed him.
"Well, would she?"
I shook my head, smiling amusedly. "I don't think so."
"Well, we're about to find out, aren't we?"
"I guess so."
When we're stood in front of my house, I watched him observe the streets intently and look back at my house when I gently shoved the kitten into his grasp to grab the scooter and lay it against the porch.
"Come on," I told him, nodding my head at the distracted boy. It wasn't until then that I noticed the dried blood above his lip.
Opening the door to my house, I heard talking in the distance and I knew it was coming from the kitchen. The kitten purred in my arms, letting out a quiet meow before coming inpatient to be let down again. I cooed at it, trying to simmer it down.
"Who else is here?" I heard Dylan ask quietly in concern.
"I don't know," I told him with a shrug before turning into the kitchen and realizing I forgot about mom's friend Beth. I go to apologize for disturbing them but when Dylan mutters something from behind me and I see the bewildered look on Beth's face, I stop.
"Dylan," she breathes, standing up immediately and stalking over to the boy next to me who looks expressionless, not saying a word.
I stepped away perplexed about the situation and watched as she grabbed at his face with a concerned gaze, wiping at the dried crimson stain above his lip but he stepped away from her, putting some distance between them with a slightly bitter look.
"Where have you been?" my mom asked, taking away my attention from the two, worry was written all over her face but I don't think it was from me.
"I told you I was going to the park?" I replied confusedly.
"Why do you have a kitten?" she questioned again, eyebrows furrowed down at the white furred animal. It whined again and wiggled in my grasp and I fought the urge to keep it still and decided to let it down.
"I found it at the park," I explained vaguely and she tilted her head with a shake.
"We'll discuss it later," she told me and I nodded before I gave her a confused and pointed look and began to walk over to her.
"What's going on?" I asked quietly.
"Beth was looking for Dylan," she explained next and it began to click that he was her son. "I didn't think you knew him?"
"I don't—I didn't," I stated, shaking my head. "We just met at the park."
"Is everything okay?" I asked when her eyes adverted back over to the two in concern. She let out a sigh and shook her head.
We both listened in quietly.
"I'm so sorry, baby," the pained mother said to her son. "I didn't—I don't know what to say besides I'm so, so sorry that you had to go through that. Mandy offered to let us stay here tonight, okay? It's gonna be okay."
I could see Dylan let down his guard, face pained just like his mom's as she pulled him in tightly for a hug and I became curious about the whole situation. What had happened?
Beth stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him over to the kitchen with her where she wet a paper towel and began to wipe at the dried blood again but this time it disappeared.
"Why don't you two go get cleaned up and I'll heat up some supper," Mom told Beth and Dylan softly.
It wasn't until now that I noticed Beth's appearance. Her brunette straight hair was attempted to be in a pony tail but many stray hairs were falling out. She had a long cardigan on that was falling off her shoulder over a white tank top that had various stains on it. I could see the similarities between she and Dylan now as he glanced at me with distant dark eyes.
Overall, she looked worn out and exhausted, they both did. I didn't know these two, really but I was worried for them.
"Thank you, so much, Mandy," Beth sighed heavily, laying a hand on mom's upper back with an appreciative but glossy gaze.
"You know I'm always here. You can stay as long as you need," mom told her back genuinely, resting a hand on the woman as well and giving a comforting squeeze. "Now you two go get settled in—do you want me to show you the guest bedroom?"
"No, no. That's alright. We can find it." Beth followed closely behind her boy as they disappeared upstairs.
Mom let out an exhale, leaning against her hands on the kitchen counter before pushing away and going to start supper.
"Will you tell me what's going on? What happened with them?"
Mom was quiet for a moment before she spoke. "Don't repeat any of this to Dylan," she warned with pointed eyes before she moved around the kitchen. I nodded immediately. "Long story short, something happened between Dylan's parents, so uh, he ran away to the park—apparently. They just moved into the house about a week ago but I think they may end up moving again. . . without Dylan's dad."
I didn't know much about marriage. I was twelve but I knew the context and I knew mom was saying his parent's were most likely going to split up.
"Don't repeat this—"
"I won't. I promise." And it was times like these when I appreciated mom for confiding in me about things I would soon learn one day.
-
We sat at the table, Beth and Dylan both with wet hair and clean clothes. They looked better than they did forty five minutes before but still with bruised skin. Dylan wore a graphic t-shirt with some loose red basketball shorts, his cheeks rosy from his warm shower.
"I've only seen pictures but in person you're practically a spitting image of your mom when she was your age," Beth says in awe to me after swallowing her food down, dark eyes resembling Dylan's.
In return, I smile politely. "I get that a lot."
"God, I haven't seen Dylan since he was seven," my mom says in astonishment.
"I know," Beth commented with a sad smile on her face before looking at her son with adoring eyes. "I'm glad we're in touch now. It's been too long."
"Can I sleep on the couch?" Dylan spoke up, looking up from his plate. He hadn't touched much of anything on it, only blinking down at the meal with steady breathing. He was in his head and whatever had happened was eating at him instead. "Do you mind?"
"I didn't figure you'd want to sleep with me," Beth chuckled quietly, though she seemed a bit hurt by this. "You're all grown up now."
"No, of course. I'll have Lyd grab you a blanket and a pillow," mom replied with a kind smile. "A growing boy needs his own space." Mom joked, smiling at Beth as a form of reassurance.
"She's right," Beth commented with a recovering smile at her boy who gave a weak chuckle.
"You can have my bed," I offered selflessly from across the table.
Dylan stared at me before cracking a small smile and shaking his head. "No, that's yours. Keep it."
"Are you sure? I don't care—"
He laughed. "I'm sure."
"At least something positive came out of this," Beth chuckled lightly, staring between the two of us with a soft look. "I just know you two will become good friends."
Dylan and I look at each other with small smiles, my cheeks heating as I look back down at my half empty plate.
-
After dinner, Beth thanked mom multiple times again, tearing up and holding her in a long comforting hug and then making sure Dylan was okay before heading to bed.
"I love you," mom told me after kissing my head.
She pet Willow softly on the head who laid cuddled up next to me, making him let out a small noise. She had decided to let me keep him but only on the terms that I would take care of him since I found him. He was my responsibility, which I was more than okay with as long as I knew he was safe and cared for.
"Love you," I told her, watching her walk to my door. "Are they going to be okay?" I asked quietly before she went to shut out my light.
She gave me a soft smile. She adored that I sympathized with others but I got it from her. "They'll be okay. Just like you and I."
I smiled back at her before she shut off my light and disappeared.
I woke a few hours later to Willow meowing in my face and not softly but almost violently. It clicked immediately that he probably needed to use the bathroom, so I scooped him up and strolled downstairs with him.
Mom said we would get litter in the morning but until then outside would suffice. I clicked open the door and the warm summer night breathe hit against my skin as I stepped out.
I placed Willow in the grass and watched him scurry around until he was satisfied enough with a spot and did his business.
I walked back inside and decided to get Willow some milk quietly from the fridge. In the dark, I could see Dylan's outline on the couch move around.
I was quiet watching Willow drink from the small bowl, the only noise of his tongue gathering the milk in his mouth.
When the milk was gone, Willow began to cry loudly and I shushed him while rushing to get more for him.
I heard a sniffle and then a quiet voice. "Lydia?"
"Sorry," I cringed as I watched the boy rise from the couch. He tiredly and slowly walked into the kitchen. "Willow had to use the bathroom. No litter box yet and I got him some milk."
"You named him Willow?" he questioned, voice rasped from sleep.
"Yeah." I nodded, watching him lean against the counter.
"You decided this without me?"
I chuckled at his joke but he didn't make a sound and I realized he was being serious.
"I didn't know you'd want a part in the name picking? Did you have a list?"
"As a matter of fact, I did."
"Well," I laughed. "Let's hear it."
"Nah," he sniffed. "Willow happened to be on the list, so we'll keep it."
I giggled again, loving that he could still make jokes while feeling down. This made a lingering smile stay on my face as I stared at the sleepy boy. The only noise again was Willow drinking from his bowl.
"Sleeping okay?" I asked to fill the silence.
"Until I was rudely awaken," he joked. I laughed once again. I didn't think he realized how funny he was to me ever since I met him but it seemed somehow unintentional.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm kidding."
"I know." I grinned at the boy.
"I always wanted a pet," he spoke again.
"Why didn't you get one?"
"Dad wouldn't let me," he said.
I was quiet for a second before asking cautiously, "Why?"
"Because he's a dick." His answer stunned me and I truly didn't know what to say. I was going to say something along the lines of I'm sorry or that sucks but he spoke again. "That's why we're here."
He let out a small bitter laugh and I frowned. I wanted him to talk about it but I wouldn't push him to so I stayed quiet to see if he wanted to say more.
"He, um, he hurt my mom," he confessed. "And he hurt me."
My frown deepened and I looked at the boy with sympathy but I knew when a hard expression came over his face, he thought I was pitying him.
"Can I have some water?" he asked.
"Yeah, of course—" I moved to get a glass but I stopped when he pushed away from the counter.
"It's okay. I'll get it," he said, moving around me. I caught a whiff of my shampoo in his hair. "Which cabinet are your cups in?"
I pointed and he strolled over, pulling down a glass cup before heading over to the front of the refrigerator and placing his cup under the water dispenser.
"You can talk to me," I suddenly told him and he looked up from his cup, dark eyes gazing back at me with a softer expression. "I know it's not the same but my dad—he, um, died when I was six."
"God—" he breathed and I shook my head.
"I won't pity you as long as you don't pity me," I told him firmly. At this, he gave me a tilted smile.
"Now I just sound like a priss," he chuckled, shaking his head.
"Everyone's situation is different. It's not a competition," I said. "Doesn't mean you can't still hurt."
He stared at me, leaning against the fridge with his cup by his mouth. "You're smart."
"Why do you say that?"
"You can read into things."
"My mom talks to me about a lot," I explained vaguely. "She doesn't sugar coat anything just because I'm young."
"I like that."
I smiled back at him shyly before silence came over again.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I questioned after a moment.
He nodded.
And we talked for what seemed like hours. He talked about what really happened with his family and I talked about my dad. He made a statement that he would never end up like his dad. An abusive drunk.
We got to know one another and we liked a lot about each other. Enough to keep each other around for awhile.
We became really close, practically as close as I was with Norah and Niyah, if not closer.
But it wasn't until the summer we hit age fourteen and fifteen when things between us took a slight and obvious turn.
Dylan had left to stay with his grandparent's who lived five hours away for a whole summer while his mom took a temporary traveling job. She'd also gone back to school to get a better degree so she could get a better job to provide for her and Dylan. She wanted to make sure she could send him to college. She knew his potential intelligence couldn't go to waste.
But long story short, he came back different.
And not necessarily in a bad way but usually sometimes staying with grandparents meant they smothered you with meals at least three times a day and baked many deserts so you were bound to gain some weight.
When I say different, I mean he was taller, stood about a foot taller than me. He'd grown more into his body and his hair had grown out into dark chocolate colored waves. He had even grown a small mustache. His interests also took a turn. He wasn't into computer games like Minecraft but into Call of Duty games instead. He played lacrosse and liked action movies rather than reading and watching sci-fi.
I'll never forget the summer he came back. . . I remember walking by his bathroom door and hearing soft grunts from the other side.
It wasn't until I went home that night and it registered what was going on because, I, too had done the same to myself that night.
It wasn't just him who had changed that summer. I had grown into my body as well. My boobs had grown a bit, from completely flat chested to an A cup. They weren't huge but it was exciting nonetheless. I'd grown a nasty attitude that felt uncontrollable. Mom and I had butt heads a few times and I would cry in my room, so frustrated with myself and everything around me.
Then I got my period and mom told me I was PMSing, which made a lot more sense. My hips were getting a bit wider and mom even began to call me "bubble butt." I researched puberty and became excited. I was growing into a young woman. That's what my mom and the internet told me anyway.
My interests changed as well. Niyah, Norah, and I all stopped watching movies about mermaids, like H20 and instead began watching romance movies like The Notebook, and we had even secretly watched Fifty Shades of Grey. We began doing our makeup and taking cute pictures of each other and talked about our crushes. I stopped wearing any type of baggy clothes and became interested in skinny jeans, skirts, and v-neck shirts that would clearly show I'd done a bit of growing.
Dylan and I weren't as close as we used to be. It took a minute to warm up to each other because we both had changed quite a bit. I suddenly became a bit shy around him, every time he looked at me or touched me in the slightest way my cheeks would warm and my body would tingle. We would watch movies together, lying closely to one another, our bodies warm and snug, and I could feel him growing against me every time. Neither of us dared to try anything more.
Then one night at a big sleepover with friends, we had snuck in some of the boys in our grade to play spin the bottle and we always played where it was ruled that we had to kiss the person it landed on or there would be serious consequences that no one wanted. I had spun the bottle and of course, it landed on Dylan.
At first I feigned being against the idea, claiming we were too good of friends and that it would be awkward for us. Dylan agreed with me but the group reminded of us of the rules and we had no choice but to follow through.
We stared at each other for what seemed like minutes before we swallowed back our anxiety and crawled across the floor to one another. It was like we'd always imagined what it would be like to kiss each other.
It was no doubt an awkward kiss but it was our first kiss. It was only a lingering peck and I remember his lips were cold and wet.
We didn't speak for a few days after that, clearly both feeling too awkward and shy to be in each other's presence after losing our first kiss to one another. Then we didn't do anything else like that after that.
I didn't sleep the night we kissed, I laid awake in a room full of sleeping girls wondering what was so different between my friend and I now. We had been friends for two years and nothing had ever felt like that between us.
Then I came to the conclusion.
What was different between us was our new hormones.