My Own Worst Enemy- Chapter 3

Sorry this one took so long, I decided I want to change the whole story and add a lot. And, as always, I got distracted writing future chapters ha.

Chapter 3

When I got home from school I found another note saying they wouldn't be home until seven again. I took advantage of the time I had alone. I ran upstairs, grabbed some charcoal, some drawing paper and went outside. As i followed the cement trail I looked at my surroundings, trying to find something to draw. None of the trees or or shrubs interested me, they were too neat and looked like people had influenced their growth. I hate that. I like drawing things that look untamed and natural, not things a gardener comes and trims every week. I decided to continue my walk through the woods.

I walked for an hour before I found the stream. It was beautiful, with weeping willows draped over the water. I sat on a rock, over the water, sketching the scene. After a while the sun weaved its way through the thick leaves and poured onto my face. I laid down and closed my eyes, letting the sun warm my face... I awoke to the rain softly dripping through the leaves onto my face. I sat up, startled, and looked at my pad of paper. I frowned, the rain had made the lines of the tree run into the base of the stream. I gazed at it for a second and started smiling, I liked it. It was untamed and natural, it was really nice.

I looked around the woods again and saw the figure of a man walking towards me.

"Dani?" the figure asked.

"Yes?" I quietly replied, my voice thick with fear.

"It's Ethan." He said stepping into the faint light, closer to the rock I was sitting on. "Are you okay, your nose is all red." I knew why, I had been crying. I had the dream I've had ever since she died. I'm standing in the front of a long hall, with no doors or windows and no color. Everything is white. And then she appears, in a white flowing gown. She's hovering over the ground that disappears if you look at it too long. Her tan skin seems to glow and her curly hair is blowing from her face, her red lips are parted in a magnificent smile, showing her white teeth. I start running towards her, but never get closer. I run faster and faster then she disappears.

"Have you been crying?"

"Maybe," I replied, avoiding his eyes. He sat next to me on the rock. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I wanted to get some nature shots," he said with a sheepish grin, holding up a camera. "Dani, I heard about your mother from some kids at school, I'm so sorry."

"I don't want your sympathy, okay?" I snapped at him. "All I want to do is forget, and no one is letting me." I was angry and sad at the same time, so the tears were stronger.

"I know how you're feeling," he quietly said looking at his hands.

"No you don't, no one knows." I angrily said.

"Yes, I do, actually," he said with an apologetic tone, "My grandfather passed away last summer. I was closer to him than my dad." I instantly felt horrible and started to cry harder. I hated crying in front of people. I rarely let people see my emotions, for a fear of being judged. I didn't understand how people could let their emotions run away and let everyone see. Maybe I just bottled up too much inside and that's why I'm here right now. No, it can't be.

He let me cry for ten minutes, sitting in the rain with me, until I stopped. "Let me take you home, Dani."

"Ethan, I'm fine." The last thing I wanted was for him to see me cry again.

"No, you're not. It's getting dark, and I don't want you to get lost."

"Fine," I groaned. I stood up and noticed we were both still in our uniforms. The cool San Francisco breeze ran through the trees and crashed into me, I shivered.

"Here, it's getting cold," he said shrugging out of his leather jacket and holding it up for me to wear. I slid my arms through the long sleeves, secretly smelling the extra material at the end as I pushed my hand through. The aroma that came from that jacket was intoxicating. It was some cologne I didn't recognize but whatever it was it smelled great. "Come on, my bike is this way." He said walking away. I followed like a lost puppy, then I processed his words. I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Bike? Ethan, there's no way I'm going to be able to balance on the pegs. I'm extremely uncoordinated." My heart rate increased at the thought of falling off the bike and embarrassing myself more than I already was.

"Not that kind of bike," he laughed. He led me through the woods. I was completely puzzled. What kind of bike could a fifteen year old drive that wasn't a traditional bicycle? He walked without a sound until we found the road. Parked on the side was a red motorcycle.

"Oh," I said in surprise. He suppressed a chuckle as he mounted the bike.

"Hop on," he said, patting the space behind him. I took my seat and wrapped my arms around his waist. What would Jess think about this? I smiled to myself.

"You're only fifteen, right?" I asked before he started the bike. He nodded in response. "Then how are you able to ride this without getting busted?"

"What the cops don't know won't hurt them," he laughed revving the engine. I murmured directions into his ear as he drove. When we finally got back to my house it was five, I still had two hours to kill.

"Do you want to come inside and dry off?" I asked. It was raining harder now than before and I felt bad that I was wearing his jacket.

"Sure." He followed me to the back of the condo, where I left the door unlocked.

We walked into the kitchen dripping. I turned back around to lock the door and caught a glimpse of him. His hair was plastered to his forehead, covering his eyes. His thin uniform shirt clung to his broad shoulders. I sighed, he still looked amazing, even when he was wet.

"Follow me, I'll get you a towel." I led him past the menacing rifle and jumped to pull down the stair case to my room.

"You can play all these instruments?" his first question was.

"Yes," I laughed. I walked into the bathroom and grabbed two towels. I handed him the towel and he sat on my chest full of Cd's. He dried his beautiful face. I stared at him for a second, gazing at his impossible beauty. He looked up at me with a slight smile on his lips. I quickly looked away and took down my hair, I brushed my fingers through the tresses and dried it. "I'll be right back, make yourself comfortable." I rummaged through my drawers until I found some sweatpants and a tank top. I walked into the bathroom and changed my clothes, I couldn't part with the fragrant jacket, so I kept it on. Before I walked out, I smelled the collar.

When I reentered the room he was looking at my posters.

"The Beatles?" I couldn't tell if he was impressed or mocking me.

"Oh, come on. You have to like The Beatles." I said. Instead of speaking, he walked over to my guitar picked it up and started playing Helter Skelter, he sang along to his playing. I was impressed, but I didn't let him see. "I'll take that as a yes, and you pay the guitar?" I asked with the perfect amount of nonchalance.

"Yes, but that's all. I can't play as many as you can." His tone led me to believe he was truly interested in an explanation.

"My elementary school offered a lot of musical programs. My mom spent most of her pay checks on these instruments, she thought all of the arts were really important." I walked over and sat on the amp next to him as I remembered all the times my mom and I had shared over music.

"You're very artistic, aren't you? Do you mind?" he asked gesturing to my drawing pads.

"Knock yourself out," I grumbled. I usually didn't like people seeing my art or hearing my music. He flipped through the pages and stopped at one I never finished.

"Who's this?" he asked.

"My mom," I softly replied. He ran his fingers over the sketch.

"You look exactly like her," he mused.

"How can you tell from half a drawing? I didn't even finish the shading, or her hair." I was skeptical about me looking like her. She was an extremely pretty woman, and I definitely am not pretty in any way at all.

"You have her eyes." He said. I looked up and saw he was no longer looking at the picture, he was looking at me. Much to my embarrassment, my heart raced and I was positive he could hear it. I stood up and walked to my CD player. I named off a couple of Cd's by The Beatles and asked which one he wanted to listen to.

"Let me look through the rest of your collection." He came next to me and opened the chest. He looked for a minute then started laughing. "The Spice Girls?"

"Guilty pleasure," I quickly explained. He ended up choosing a CD by Queen. He sat on my bed while I sat on the chest.

"So," he said, trying to make conversation, "I never was able to sketch you in art class, next time it's my turn."

"Do you really need to have my hair down?" I asked with a playful whine.

"Yes. The way I see you it's like you're hiding behind some veil all the time, like no one's ever seen the true you, I want to portray that." I can be very argumentative, and this would usually set me off, but I knew he

was right so there was no use. "Why do you have me posing the way you do?"

"You're very mysterious and come off as a very cool, bad-boy type. I guess my painting is based on outside appearance, yours goes in deeper." He silently nodded.

By now it was six thirty, and he said he had to go.

"Thanks for letting me borrow this," I said shrugging out of the jacket.

"Don't worry about it." He took the jacket and I led him downstairs.

"I'll see you tomorrow, well, that is if you don't decide to skip," I said. He laughed, showing that perfect dimple.

"Maybe I'll show up, just for you." He smiled. I bit my lip, from embarrassment, and smiled. He grinned at me once more, then walked through the doorway. I watched him leave and once he was out of sight I closed the door. I still had thirty minutes until Miles and the she-devil came home with Sammy, so I decided to explore the house.

First, I went to the study. On both the desk and bookshelf there were hundreds of pictures of Miles' new family. There were pictures ranging from Sammy's first steps to her first day of the fifth grade. I sighed as I went through the other rooms and found the same showcase of Sammy's life. There wasn't one of me. I was upset for a fraction of a second, every year I sent Miles one of my school photos with my report card so he could see how I was doing. He obviously didn't care. And to my surprise, neither did I. I hate having my picture taken, anyway.

I finally decided to go into the basement. In the dimly lit space I found old holiday decorations, tattered furniture, from his old apartment, and an old record player, coated with dust. I blew off the thick layer of dust, and marveled at the record player. It was an antique, with chipping wood and old beer stains. I emptied out the box of decorations and shoved the record player in with some old records. Most of the bands I had never heard of but I decided to give them a chance. Once I got the box in my room and set it up I put in one of the records I've never listened to before by Bob Dylan. The first song was called Forever Young. At first I couldn't get past his voice but then it grew on me, and I liked it. I replayed the song and listened to the lyrics. I cried. The song made me feel like this was the prime of my life, and I needed to live it. I felt like the song was specifically written for me, warning me to stay the way I am, but to live life like there's no tomorrow. I was crying for all these reasons but, also, because my mom's personality was perfectly described in this song. She could switch from being a mom to being my teenage best friend, just wanting to have fun, in a second.

I was crying so hard, I didn't hear them come into the house or hear my dad climb the stairs to my room.

"I knew it wouldn't be long before you found that," he laughed eyeing the record player.

"Hey, dad," I sniffed. I brushed away the tears and turned off the music. He sat on the edge of my bed tracing the pattern of my quilt. He had something on his mind, I could tell, and he didn't want to say it.

"Dani, this may not be the best time," he softly said. His voice was basically a whisper, like it always was when he started a conversation that may be the least bit awkward. "But, I want to talk to you about what happened between you and Beth yesterday."

I groaned. I didn't want to talk to him about Beth and my conversation. I didn't want to tell him how she called my a guy. See, when I first got here I tried to avoid confrontation at all costs, so I tried to keep quiet.

"What about it?" I innocently asked.

"Do you think you could just have a girls day with her? Or maybe you could show some interest in things Beth's interested in, like you could start wearing makeup."

"Are you implying that I need makeup?" I interrupted.

"No. No Dani," he quickly said. "Forget about the make-up. You could use the purse she gave you." The way he said the last sentence I could hear it was a demand.

"I don't use purses. I rarely accessorize!" I exclaimed. Whenever I get angry all my random thoughts rush out and speak so fast it's hard to comprehend. "I've only worn one thing in my life for an accessory and I wore it for three years strait. Do you want to know what it was?" Miles' eyes grew wide. He was taken aback from my sudden out burst. I didn't wait for him to reply, I just walked over to my closet and rummaged through one of the boxes at the bottom. I found my old baseball cap and put it on. "This baseball cap," I continued, "Remember? The year after you and mom separated you took me to a baseball game and told me whenever I wore it, you would be with me! This was my life, dad! Then one day you told me the ratty hat looked stupid! Did you forget about that? Well you did! And I never came back again.

"And now you have the nerve to tell me to change who I am to satisfy your little Barbie-doll-mid-life-crisis girlfriend. I don't care who it is, I don't change for anyone!" Tears were flooding my eyes and the blood was rushing to my nose but I held them back, I wouldn't cry in front of him.

"Don't raise your voice to me, treat me with respect!" His face turned red with anger, as he spat out each word to me.

"I'm giving you the respect you deserve!" I yelled louder.

"Danielle!" His voice instantly cooled after he yelled my name with such intensity my bed shook. "I don't think this is going to work."

"What?" I spat at him.

"Maybe you shouldn't live here," he quietly said.

"You're kicking me out? I haven't even been here for a week!"

"Well, you and Beth don't get along..." his voice trailed as he tried to find an explanation.

"So you're kicking me out because I don't like your girlfriend?" I incredulously asked.

"No, well, yes," he stammered.

"She hates me though. I didn't do anything but refuse the ugly purse she gave me and then she called me a guy. So I'm extremely sorry that she and I aren't best buddies," I ranted, my voice thick with sarcasm. He paused, thinking over this bit of information I had just given him.

"You and Sammy don't get along either," he said.

"She didn't even know I existed before I arrived! Though it's believable."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't even have any pictures of me in your whole condo," I loudly explained. He waited a couple of minutes before he answered.

"That's my fault. We'll try for another week and then see where we are," he said with a grunt as he rose from the bed. He left without another word. I brought one of my pillows to my face and screamed until all thoughts were out of my head. I screamed until everything became clear; I wasn't wanted here. He was just waiting for me to graduate so he could have the perfect American family again. I pictured their family portrait that he and Beth were striving for, blond haired, blue eyed Barbies with a balding Ken. Then I pictured the family portrait that displayed our 'family' right now. Three happy, model looking people with a short, frizzy haired girl who is at home behind the security of her art.