Chapter 13

I slept at Ellie’s house that night and refused to come home, even after Dad had called Oliver, absolutely furious over my defiance. I told him I wouldn’t come home as he went on and on about how I didn’t know what I wanted and how he was my father. Oliver hung up the phone without a care. She was the first woman, besides Ellie I suppose, who wasn’t scared of men. It awed me, and sometimes I wished I was like Ellie and her mom.

The next day, though, guilt was eating me alive. I knew I had to go home. I didn’t, though. Not yet.

On Monday, Ellie and I didn’t go to school. Despite that, I still awoke at 5 AM on the dot, my eyes snapping open and refusing to close. I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, the minutes ticking by slowly. I thought about Ivy and Mom as I lay there in Ellie’s bed beside her. Kaylee’s soprano voice rang in my head, overlapping Dad’s words.

“You awake?” Ellie asked sleepily, rolling over towards me. I glanced over at her as she snapped me from my daydreaming and I sighed. It was still rather dark out, her curtains propped open enough to allow to see the sky and the dim moon.

“Yeah..” I said softly. Ellie’s shoulder-length messy hair was scattered across her face. She groaned quietly and pushed it away.

     “Too early,” she murmured groggily. “We ain’t going to school.” She said, rolling over and draping her arm over me lazily.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” I sighed. “I don’t have my backpack or clothes or anything,” I murmured.

“Don’t worry about it,” mumbled Ellie. “You and Dave will make up eventually.” She said.

“Stop calling my dad by his first name,” I laughed softly, rolling my eyes. “And I don’t know if he’ll even forgive me. Ever He was mad.” I said quietly, my hand slowly creeping up to brush over her arm. My pale fingers wrapped around it, feeling the warmth and the texture of her skin and muscle.

“He will,” Ellie reassured, turning to me with a smile. Her eyes were sleepy and hazy, that forest green color mixed with cocoa staring me down.

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“You like blueberries?” Ellie asked as she turned to me, in the middle of making blueberry pancakes. “You like blueberries.” She answered for me as she turned back to the stove, sprinkling them into the batter.

“Whatever you say,” I murmured playfully as I wiped off the counter from where she had spilled nearly an entire cup of flour.

“You’re up early,” Oliver groaned softly as she walked into the kitchen. Her eyes were low and her hair was in a messy bun, but she still looked put together as she always somehow did, even in all her chaos. She wore a silk sleep shirt and matching shorts, leaning her hip against the counter. “Making breakfast? Never seen you cook. Rare occurrence.” Ellie’s mother mused playfully.

“Shut up, I’ve cooked before,” Ellie scoffed as she reached over me and grabbed the spatula. A stray chunk hair fell loose from her braid, briefly brushing my cheek before she straightened up.

“In my dreams,” Oliver rolled her eyes. She walked over and reached up, grabbing a coffee cup from the top shelf with minimum struggle. Ellie was lucky her father was tall because Oliver barely came up to my shoulder, and I was 5’5. Ellie did inherit her father’s height most definitely because she was almost 5’10 by now.

“Oh, whatever. I’m an amazing cook. Eve is teaching me.” Ellie said with a laugh.

“I think I need to up Eve’s pay…” Oliver muttered under her breath playfully. She put her coffee cup under the Keurig, and Ellie laughed at her words, smiling at me. I was confused, but I laughed too.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Ellie chuckled.

“No,” I admitted, shaking my head with an amused grin. Even if I didn’t understand the joke, Ellie’s laughter still made me smile.

“She’s saying she pays you to be friends with me. She’s joking.” She explained, flipping one of the pancakes on the griddle.

“Oh…oh, that’s…funny,” I said with a smile. I still didn’t get it.