PART TWO
Chapter Eleven
Taylor
When Daddy pulled into the garage, I was hoping with all of my will that Dylan would be home before us. I didn’t want him wandering around, and I didn’t want him screwing this up. He’d back in that trailer if he did. I hadn’t even seen the thing, but it made me shudder, anyway.
He’d once said that the trailer he lived in would fit in his bedroom in the house. I couldn’t imagine living in that, but he’d had no choice. Now, he did, and I wanted him to make good ones. I was rooting for Dylan.
I entered the kitchen to see my mom there. “Where’s Dylan?” she asked.
My father spoke. “He had to take a friend home who got drunk.”
My mother eyed both of us. I’m sure that she didn’t think we were telling the truth. I kept my gaze steady. Any sign of weakness and she would know that I was lying. I didn’t want to lie, but her scrutiny of all of Dylan’s actions made it that way.
Besides, I couldn’t tell her what really happened. I couldn’t even tell my father. That was new. I could tell him a lot of things, but I didn’t think Dylan would want me to. I had to respect his privacy, even if I hadn’t felt I should earlier.
“Okay, I guess that’s a valid reason for being late.” She was in her pajamas. She waved at us. “Going to bed.”
“Good night, Mom.”
I looked in the refrigerator for something to drink. My father sat himself at the island as I grabbed the orange juice. “Pour me some of that, kitten.”
“Sure, Daddy.”
I set a glass in front of him and then sat next to him, drinking my own. He turned to me. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on with Dylan?”
I almost choked on my juice as I coughed a little. “What do you mean?”
“Is it a teenage thing? Or is it a Dylan thing?”
“Still not sure what you are talking about,” I said.
I tried to play it cool, but it was hard to lie to my father. He knew when I was. My mother was easy to lie to because sometimes she didn’t want to know the truth. My father always did. He faced life head on.
“Is Dylan coming back tonight?”
“Of course he is, Daddy.”
“Are you sure?”
I crossed my fingers where he couldn’t see them. “Yes. He likes it here.”
“Good because I can only make excuses for so much behavior. He’s been great, but if he slips up, your mother will want to throw him out. I want to see him succeed.”
“I do, too.”
“You two have become friends. It’s nice to see.”
“We have. He’s really helped me with my math.”
“I’m glad to hear it. We have so much. It’s good to help someone who needs it. We can’t just give a hand out. We need to show them how to be successful.”
“Right, Daddy.
I wanted him to go to bed. I wanted to see Dylan when he got in, just to know he was safe. He was pretty pissed when he ran away from me. I finished my juice and decided I need a snack.
“You want some potato chips, Daddy?”
“Sure.”
I went downstairs and grabbed a small bag. Barbecue was my father’s favorite, and he smiled when he saw it. They were just okay to me, but there was no reason not to soften him up. I wanted him to be okay with what Dylan had done. Or what we’d told him Dylan had done.
Well, I had started the lie. It was me lying. Hopefully, Dylan didn’t have an attack of conscience and want to tell the truth. I’d be screwed. The car wouldn’t come back to me any time soon.
“You ended up not going to the dance with anyone?”
I shook my head. “Sometimes there is too much drama when you have a date. It was more fun being just me.”
“That’s very mature. How do you think you did on the SATs?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I tried.”
“You really should have applied to colleges by now.”
“I know.”
That was hanging over my head. We had visited many of them, but I still couldn’t decide. Well, I could, I just knew the answer wasn’t going to be one that anyone else liked. I wanted to go to community college to study nursing.
Not that I really wanted to stay home, but I didn’t need to go away to college. My mother insisted that I should, though.
My dad patted my shoulder when I yawned. “Go off to bed, kitten. I’ll wait up for Dylan.”
Shit. That would mean that I couldn’t warn him. A text it was, then. I kissed my father on the cheek and climbed the stairs. Before I did anything when I reached my room, I sent a text to Dylan.
“I told them you were helping a drunk friend get home. Please come home, Dylan.”
I got no reply. I didn’t expect one. He’d been pretty mad about the situation and maybe it was even a little embarrassing. As I got ready for bed, I jumped every time a car went by.
Not that he would be in a car. He’d probably be walking, unless someone gave him a ride.
Please come home, Dylan, I thought. I knew I’d done the right thing, even if he was mad at me. I hoped he wouldn’t stay mad at me forever.
I was beginning to like Dylan a lot. Not in a romantic way, I didn’t think, but he was a friend. Maybe a brother I never had. To think that I’d been afraid of him in the beginning. He was a good guy and I just wanted to make things right for him, kind of how my dad was doing it.
But in my own way.
I snuggled under the covers in the dark.
Please come home, Dylan.