Then Came You (5 page)

“Watch it, Grumpy. We wouldn’t want you getting hurt now, would we?”

“I-I…” He steps back, letting me go, and I just stand there and blush like a moronic… moron, thingy. “Uhm, are we going to climb that tree now?” I blurt out, suddenly wanting to get away from the weird moment, even if it means I have to climb a tree.

It’s funny, how in books and movies, even psychological meetings, they talk about ways you can get over all your troubles. It’s all about symbolism, and metaphors. Like, knocking down a house to knock down your walls; or climbing a tree to get over your past. And let me tell you; it’s all bullshit.

And how do I know this? Well, let’s just say I suck at climbing trees and I probably won’t be doing this ever again. And yes, that does mean that I am currently climbing a tree.

“God, you’re so
slow!
” Tyler laughs down at me from his perch on the highest branch. I look up and scowl, because after all, this wasn’t my idea.

“I’m trying, okay? Shut up and let me concentrate!” I grumble, hissing when I scrape the palm of my hand on an extra-rough bit of bark. “Seriously, how do five year olds do this?”

He laughs, meaning he’s heard me and that I’m not as quiet as I’d assumed. “Oh, come on, Grumpy. Didn’t they have trees where you came from?”

“Yes, of course they did. How else do you think we breathed?” I retort, about to put my hands on my hips before realising I need to keep a firm hold on the branches or else I’ll fall to my possible death.

“Ooh, you don’t have to get so snippy with me, girly. Are you five feet off the ground yet?” He smirks, laughter following his voice. I grit my teeth and ignore his teasing, forcing myself to climb the goddam tree, all the while mumbling “you can do it” until I’ve reached the branch Tyler is sat on.

I twist my body around and slide to sit next to him, gripping to the tree for dear life. Tyler sighs and puts an arm around me, letting me lean on him slightly as I catch my breath. “There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He whispers in my ear, smiling against my skin. I shiver, trying not to let him know how much his closeness affects me as I swing my legs, trying to appear casual.

“I guess it wasn’t that bad,” I hedge cautiously, sending him a sideways look and smiling wryly.

He laughs, winking at me. “Well the adventure isn’t over yet, Grumpy.”

“What do you mean?” I ask him, confusion clear on my face.

“Well,” he smirks, “Now that you’re on top of the tree, you kinda have to get down.”

I stare at him for a moment, watching in shock as he smirks and turns his body around, proceeding to climb back down the tree. “Wait, what? Tyler!” I shriek at him. “Oh, I am so going to kill you when I get down there!”

Seven

I take a deep breath as I watch her walking out of the cafeteria, an apple in her hand and a frown on her face, white hair stick-straight down her back, her tattoo sleeves showing through the blue lace of her top, which she wears with a black, torn skirt, ripped tights and doc martins.

Basically, she looks scary.
Which is why I’m almost nervous to approach her.
And I say almost, because if we weren’t friends, then I’m sure she’d snap at me or something.

Taking a deep breath, I walk over to where Dana is now sitting on a bench and sit down next to her. She doesn’t even acknowledge me as she stares at the sky, rolling her apple in her hands over and over…

“I’m not mad at Remy,” she says finally, making me jump. I’d assumed she didn’t even know I was there. “I know you think I am, but I’m not. I’m
more angry
at myself, really.” Silently, I take her hand, and she smiles thinly at me before she carries one.

“I met Alex when I was fourteen, and he was fifteen. He was a popular jock and I was a nerdy schoolgirl who always had her nose in a book. I fell in love with him almost immediately and he didn’t even know I existed. And then, one day at a party my cousin had dragged me to, we met and we started talking. I got drunk and I lost my virginity to him that same night.

“We started hanging out almost every day, calling each other every night and I’d thought I’d finally found the man I was meant to be with. We’d been together for over a year and a half and then, on
Valentine ’s
Day, I went to his house to surprise him… and I found him with another girl.

“And if that’s not the worst part; the girl was my older sister.” She sobs bitterly, leaning her head on my shoulder and sniffing.

“I didn’t know you have a sister,” I whisper in shock. Sure, Dana doesn’t mention her family a lot, just the basic facts, like she never knew her dad, her mum died and she lives with her gran, but she’s never mentioned a sister.

“
Had,
past tense.
I haven’t spoken to her since she shagged by boyfriend and she left a week later, after rubbing it in my face that he preferred her to me. I hate her so much, and yet at the same time I thank her, because if it hadn’t have been her he cheated on me, it could have been any other girl. I’m just glad I found out sooner rather than later,” she shrugs, gripping my hand tightly.

“I-I know you probably don’t want to talk about it,” I stammer, trying to get the courage to ask her after she’s poured her heart out to me. “But, what happened at the party?”

“Oh, that,” she laughs bitterly, her upper lip curling up in a snarl. “I didn’t even know he’d be there, and then I walked into the room to see him trying to grope Remy, and the poor girl didn’t even have a clue what he was planning to do.” She scoffs, “I can’t believe I loved a sleazebag like that. I must have been delusional.”

I giggle slightly, smiling at her, “Well, maybe you should try and talk to Remy? She’s pretty put out, you know.”

She sighs, nodding her head and releasing my hand. “You’re right. And I’m starving – I don’t know how girls can go on diets, I need
food.
And I need my friends, too.” She stands up and looks down at me, grinning happily. “You
coming?”

“In a minute,” I say, smiling back at her. “I just want a moment alone.”

She nods, getting it. “Okay, see yah.
And Darcy?”

“Hmm?”
I raise an eyebrow, looking at her.

“Thank you,” she beams. “You really are a true friend.”

When I get home that afternoon, my dad is in an alcohol-induced semi-coma in a sprawled out position on the couch, snoring like a buzz saw. I grimace at him before padding into the kitchen and grabbing a carton of orange out of the fridge and pouring a half-f glass. I grab my bag and take it all to my room do get a head start on my homework before I have to start making dinner.

After a couple of hours of groaning and thinking until my head is near to exploding, I roll of my bed with a grunt and stretch my arms and legs. I walk downstairs, check on my dad who is still snoring on the couch, before walking into the kitchen and getting dinner ready.

I’m half way done with the spaghetti and the sauce when dad walks in the kitchen. He’s wearing his usual attire of faded baggy jeans and greasy white shirt complete with various stains.

“What are you making?” He grumbles, grabbing a bottle of beer and sitting at the small table in the corner of the room. He groans when I tell him, pushing the plate away straight away once I’ve put it on the table in front of him.

“Dad, you need to eat,” I tell him as I put a cup of coffee on the table as well. “I made you coffee; it’s healthier than alcohol.”

“I don’t need coffee and I
don’t
need your stupid food, Darcy. Just go to your room and
do
your homework or something,” he snaps, glaring at me over his bottle, anger spitting from him.

I sigh, don’t bothering to tell him that I’d finished my homework when he was sleeping on the couch, and I take my plate and my own coffee to my room, just wanting to curl up and read. After finishing my dinner, I take the plate downstairs to wash it, only to find that I’m in the house on my own and that my dad must have gone out sometime after I’d gone up to my room. I shrug, deciding it’s not my problem where he is so long as he gets back, and I get to work cleaning.

I’ve been looking after me, dad and the house since mum died, and I’ve only once complained to dad before realising that I should just leave him alone to grieve for his wife without hassling him about money, bills, food, cleaning and even his daughters’ life. I’ve done everything mum would have done if she was here and more.

I clean all the pots, wipe the surfaces and put all the empty cans and bottles surrounding the sofa in the recycling bins out back, before dusting everywhere and getting the vacuum out to hoover. By the time I’ve finished, it’s gone midnight and I’m exhausted.

I sigh, falling back on the still-smelly sofa and I close my eyes as my body sinks into the dent my dad’s sleeping body has made. I feel my body relax, ignoring the aches and pains from over-working like I do almost every night and I feel my eyes start to get heavy. Pretty soon, my brain has stopped thinking, and I’ve fallen asleep.

Eight

I’m woken with the sounds of someone’s fist thumping on the front door; jerking me out of my curled-up position on the sofa and making my eyes snap open. I gasp, looking around in a sleepy-yet awake haze before forcing myself into a standing position to go and answer the door.

I open it to see a man wearing a police uniform and a scowl, his hand gripping my fathers’ shoulder as I gape at them. My dad is wearing a sheepish expression, his eyes bloodshot and bored, a stench of stale alcohol pouring from him and if I wasn’t frozen in shock, I’d have grimaced and recoiled away from him.

“Um, what’s happened?” I ask hoarsely, shaking
myself
from the daze and staring at my dad’s rumpled clothing and distressed posture.

“He’d been charged for drunk and disorderly; a £200 fine I’m afraid,” the policeman says, pushing my dad into the house with a pitying expression my way. I try not to scowl at him, hating the pity, as I put an arm around my dad and help him into the livingroom where he falls into the imprint he’s made on the sofa and closes his eyes with a groan.

“Uhm, when do I- we, when do we need to pay the fine,” I stumble over my words, turning to face the officer with a worried taunt in the middle of my brow.

He shuffles on his feet, looking back longingly at his car.
Funny, how not even a professional can stand to be around our small family any more.
That’s got to mean we’re doing something wrong, right?

“Well, you’ll be receiving a letter in the
post,
it will include all the details. I’m only here to bring him back; we usually let these types spend the night in the cells until sober, but his file said he was living with his teenage daughter, and we figured you might get worried.” He looks at me, then at my dad, before his gaze slides around the house, looking for any signs of neglect or anything to be concerned about. After taking in the clean state of the house,
thank God I’d finished cleaning,
he breathes a sigh and steps back towards the door.

“Oh! Thank you officer, I can take it from here,” I say, mimicking a line I’d heard of something on TV, before blushing at how lame that sounds in real life.

He nods, obviously relieved. “Right, thank you miss, goodnight,” he nods his head before turning around and practically jogging to his car, hightailing it out of here.

I turn to my dad and watch him snoring for a while, a tightening feeling in my chest as I remember the happy, funny, caring man he used to be before the accident. Why can’t he be like that with just me? Am I really not good enough with her to keep him happy?

Apparently not,
I think bitterly, taking out an old threadbare blanket and draping it over him, a single tear rolling down my face as the smell of alcohol, the think his loves most, invades my senses and taunts me. I gulp, leaning down to press a watery kiss on his grisly chin. “I love you, daddy,” I whisper, before going upstairs to bed.

During History, all Remy would say was how thankful she was that Dana was talking to her. I didn’t bother telling her that she was never mad at her in the first place; I didn’t want to burst her bubble.

Today she was wearing rainbow knee-high socks, a purple and orange tutu and a black leather jacket. Her bright pink hair was in a curly ponytail and she was wearing her usual black boots.

“So will you be coming to the next party then?” she says, grinning wickedly at me. “I heard one of Tyler’s friends is hosting one this weekend…”

“After the drama the last party caused? I don’t think so,” I scoff, leaning over my notebook to copy out the notes.

“But I thought you and Tyler were getting along great at the last one,” she smirks when I look at her sharply. “Um, yeah, I think a few people noticed, you Juliet, you.”

I giggle at how weird she sounds, blushing slightly. “It’s not like that, really. We’re just friends.”

“Ah huh,” she wriggles her eyebrows at me. “With benefits, I presume?”