Darling, you'll be okay

The week trudged by. Tristan and I made small talk, but I still wasn't exactly sure why he wanted to "hang out" on Saturday. I gave up on guessing. All he would tell me was to meet him at the school, and we would walk to his house from there.

I told my mom that I would be spending time with a friend. "You have friends? What's her name? Where does she live? How long have you two been friends?" The questions never ended. I love how she assumes I could never get a guy to hang out with me, assuming my "friend" was a she. But I guess that's better for me. Less cause for concern and I wouldn't be asked as many embarrassing questions.

"Yes, I have friends, Mom! Her name is Victoria. She wanted to hang out for a little while." I lied.

"What will you two be doing?" Ugh. I wish she'd stop with the questions.

"Hanging...out.." I said, grumpily. She was really riding my nerves.

I think she understood that she was annoying me because she backed slowly to my door, and told me she'd be in the kitchen.

Saturday came. Finally. I tore my room apart looking for something to wear. After an hour of frustration, I just slipped into some skinny jeans and a Hoodie. Sexy.... Not.

I combed through my hair and straightened it, as I do everyday. I smoothed on my eyeliner and threw a beanie on. I slipped into my converse, looked in the mirror and sighed.

Same ugly face. Same awkward body. Different day.

Tristan was waiting for me when I got to the school. We had agreed to meet at 10am. I checked my watch, 10:04. Fashionably late.

Did he ever stop smiling? "Hey!" He called to me as I approached. "I have something I wanna show you." What could he possibly have to show me? So maybe that's what today is about...

He shocked me as he grabbed my hand and began leading me to his house. I let out a small gasp.

His house was not at all what I expected. It was a small, one-story with brown shutters. He looked at me, measuring my reaction. "It's not much, I know," he said, "but it's just me and my dad, we don't need much."

"It's nice," I said. And I actually wasn't lying. It was a cute little house. It reminded me of a cozy little cabin.

No one was home. He led me into the garage. If he turned out to be a killer, no one would know where to find me. I had lied to my mom about where I was.

Just as I started to become nervous, he flicked on the light.

A red and white drum set stood before me.

Notes