Differences

Chapter 4

~Destiny~

I woke up the next morning, all alone in my house. I stayed in bed, looking up at the ceiling trying to forget that my parents have been gone for exactly 15 hours. I lazily got out of bed, brushed my teeth, got dressed and walked downstairs, still feeling dizzy.

The doorbell rang, and I yawned, walking over and opening it. Standing in front of me was a familiar figure with cargo pants, a purple t-shirt with a cartoon on it, and the same dog tags as yesterday.

"Hey th-" I turned around and left Dawson standing blankly at the doorstep. Why did he come here? I went into the kitchen to get a granola bar and heard Dawson following me. "You know, you're very rude?" he said.

"I've never had people come to my door before," I said in monotone, like I was not surprised he came to my house. "Why are you here, Dawson?"

"I'm sure I didn't tell you my name yesterday," he said, raising an eyebrow. I didn't say anything and gave him a pointed look. "Right, you should've heard from school because I'm that popular." He paused. "Why are you looking at me so scornfully?"

"Because you're so full of yourself," I answered. "Part of the reason why I know you is because of the million introductions and cheesy games we had to play at the beginning of the school year. It's not only because you're some popular douchebag. Now tell me why you're here."

"My dad said to take you to school and drop you off, too," he said, twirling his car keys on his index finger.

"What?" I blurted. "No. Way." Dawson seemed surprised for a minute, but he regained his composure.

"Seriously, do you hate me that much?" he said. I shook my head, picking up my backpack and slinging it against one shoulder. "You know I don't mind because I go to the same school."

"Okay look at this way," I said. "You don't seem to understand that a person like you should never mesh with a person like me. If anyone else saw, all the hate will go to me. Like there isn't enough already."

"I don't mind," he said.

"But, I do," I said. "You'll be fine, because everyone loves you. But then people are going to think 'Omg, why's she hanging out with Dawson. Omg, did Dawson break up with Brigit because of her, omg'." I used an extremely clingy, girly, and annoying tone to imitate the people in my school and rolled my eyes a lot to bring the effect. Dawson laughed and put a fist to his mouth, and I stared at him in disbelief.

"Alright, I get you," he said. "I'll drop you off at a corner where the catwalk is, and you can go on from there." I only gave in because I wasn't willing to walk in the boring sun outside.

I locked the house and saw the lustrous, sleek car waiting on my driveway. It was shiny and black, flaring under the sunlight. Oh, how much I wished I could drive and get to own a car like that. As soon as I looked at the logo on the hood, I knew it was a Mercedes Benz. So lucky.

"Enough admiring my car," he said, going into the driver's seat. I put my backpack with his in the backseat and buckled up in the passenger seat. His car smelled like mint, cologne, and cinnamon, just like him.

"Does anyone else use this car?" I said, rolling down my window.

"I would kill anyone who does," he said, starting the car and reversing it onto the driveway. I pulled down the little flap of the mirror and looked at myself for a minute. I sighed and put it back up. "You know, I searched everywhere in your room yesterday. For make-up."

"You're such a snoop, you asshole," I said. He chuckled, and I slouched as low as possible so the students walking on the sidewalk couldn't see me.

"You don't wear make-up, do you?" he said.

"My mom makes me wear eyeliner sometimes. But no, I don't like make-up," I said. "Why do you care anyways?"

"So, in the future, if I had to give you a present, I wouldn't buy you make-up," he said.

"Why would you give me a present?" I questioned. He shrugged and mouthed 'You never know'. We were quiet the rest of the way, and I still duck down to avoid the eyes of strangers. I just took deep breathes of the smell of Dawson's car. It was nice.

He turned at an intersection into a street I've never been in before. I looked around a little alert and nervous. Just when I thought Dawson might drop me in the middle of nowhere and abandon me, he stopped in front of a park.

"See that catwalk on the other side?" he said, pointing towards my opened window and to the park. "Just walk through that and you'll be right at the back of school." I got out of the car and grabbed my backpack. Dawson grinned at me from his driver's seat when I peered through the window.

"Thanks, but it really wasn't necessary," I said.

"I'll see you at school," he said.

"Please don't," I said and coughed. "Yeah, just try to avoid me as much as possible." He frowned and started his car, driving away. This is exactly what happens when a popular person hangs out with a not-popular person. It's so frustrating to not let anyone know that you hang out with each other. I wouldn't even call the thing between Dawson and me a hang out, but a 'responsibility'. For him anyways.

Dawson was right, the catwalk led directly to the back of the school. It was quite convenient, so I went inside without anybody seeing me. I walked through the empty hallways and hoped there was enough time for me to make a quick errand before classes start.

I went into the office and into the newspaper section. At the back was a staff member typing away on his computer.

"Um, Mr. Kin?" I said. He turned around and smiled when he saw me. "I finished Friday's hot topic, here's the good copy," I handed him the printed document I was working on yesterday.

"This looks fantastic, Destiny," he said. "Thanks for volunteering for this boring club."

"It's cool," I said, fiddling with my thumbs. "But, if you're planning to publish it for the school's newspaper, can I ask for a favor?" He waited, and I cleared my throat. "Can you make the author anonymous? I mean, me anonymous? I don't want people to know who wrote it." He looked at me strangely and nodded. The bell rang, and without waiting any longer, I left the office and walked back into the hallway.

This time, I didn't care who stopped me, I wasn't getting late for class. I didn't get late and the class was half empty, but the most obnoxious students were there. I glumly walked past them and sat at the back, my usual spot.

"Hey, destined to be a loser," Aspen said, giggling with her other girly friends. Only Dexter called me that, but I guess she caught on quick. I felt someone pull a strand of my hair and my ponytail tilted off its position. I whipped around to see Zac, laughing and walking back to his girlfriend, Becky.

"Well, I wonder why your hair is so messy, Destiny?" Becky said in a sickening voice.

"In case your eyesight was blurred for the last 7 seconds, Zac decided to be an asshole and pull my hair," I explained. Zac laughed harder and Becky glared at me as the teacher entered the room.

All the classes started off this way, and my mouth was getting dry. I got so annoyed with my hair that I put it up in a lazy, loose bun and left it bouncing on my head as I walked. Lunch came, and I didn't even bother eating as I went directly to the music room.

I played the guitar in the dark, strumming and humming randomly. Yup, this was bliss for me. It was almost time for last period when Mr. Hansen came up to me.

"Destiny, you need to start eating lunch," he said. "And I know I'm not your dad, but it isn't healthy for you."

"Can I eat in here?" I asked him, hopefully. "I just can't stand the drama in the cafeteria, and some students are such messy eaters." He raised an eyebrow, but my solid expression didn't sway. He sighed.

"I can't let you eat in here, it's against the rules," he said. "And I'm pretty sure the cafeteria's not that bad." I got off the stool and stood up with the guitar strap still hung around me.

"You have no idea, Mr. Hansen," I said. "It's like..." I put a hand on my throat. "I believe that every human has this invisible puke bag in their throat, and it just explodes like a volcano when it witnesses another explosion of food and crap. It just can't tolerate it, you know?"

"Do we disgust you that much?" said a voice behind us. I cringed at the familiar voice and my mouth tasted vulgar suddenly. Mr. Hansen laughed and patted my back as he set up for the following period.

I picked up the guitar and sat on the stool, pretending like no one was there except me. Dawson reached for his guitar case and he put a stool right in front of me.

"Puke bag exploding like a volcano, huh?" he said, his fingers floating above the guitar strings. I turned to face the other way, so he wouldn't see my face. "It's a really...cool comparison." Then he started laughing.

"You can say 'stupid' if you want, okay?" I said. "You don't have to say 'cool' because I know it wasn't. I don't like the cafeteria because of the jerks there. Like you."

"It's not World War |||, okay?" he said, and I could still feel him grinning. "And I don't know why you keep referring to me as a jerk. I mean, I just dropped you off at school today. And quite frankly, I'll be dropping you off at home, too."

"You wouldn't drop me off, you'll be going there to babysit me," I said, turning around to face him again. "It's part of your job, so really it makes no difference. And maybe other people can't see it, but you are a jerk."

"How?" he said, looking amused.

"The first thing you said to me was an insult: that I looked kind of crazy sitting like that towards the wall," I said.

"Well, I wasn't lying," he said.

"Whatever," I said, looking at the strings of my guitar. The bell rang and we both stood up at the same time. "Don't speak to me in front of anyone else, okay?"

"You know, you seem to be saying all the lines I'm supposed to say," he said, looking at me like I was something hard to figure out. I heard voices outside the door and moved my stool to the back of the room. "Really ironic," Dawson said to me from across the room.

"Shut up," I scowled. He held his hands up as if to surrender and I waited for the class to start.

I looked at the guitar lesson book and tried to play at least one hard song in the beginning level. I had finished only half of the book, and my fingers just didn't cooperate to the notes and strings to the rest of the songs. I dropped the puck and I picked it up again with trembling fingers. I moved the puck down the strings and repeated the chords.

By the end of the class, I was still playing the same boring chords, not able to go further. Mr. Hansen said he had a meeting, so we had to leave a little earlier than usual. I put my head on my guitar, my fingers hurting, my head throbbing, and it wasn't so peaceful anymore. I lifted my head and put the puck against the strings one more time. I kept saying to myself, I'll get it this time, but I didn't.

The bell rang, and I dropped my head on the guitar again, breathing in deeply and frustrated. I didn't straighten until everyone left and I heard no noise.

"Well, looks like someone is frustrated," I heard Dawson say. I lifted my head and stood up with the guitar.

"I don't understand how I'm still in the beginner level," I said, rubbing my head. "I practice so hard and at least 3 hours a day. I just don't get it." Dawson packed his guitar away and looked at me as I continued to rub my head.

"Are you going to pack up?" he said.

"You go. I'm going to walk," I said.

"I don't have the keys to your house," he said.

"Some responsible guy," I murmured, standing up and reluctantly packing everything up. After saying good-bye to Mr. Hansen, we walked out of the music room and out the back door. I looked around cautiously to make sure no one was there and waiting until Dawson got his car out of the parking lot.

"You're really self-conscious, aren't you?" he said as I slipped in the car.

"You still don't understand, do you?" I said. "If they saw me with you, they're going to make my life miserable. And you haven't told anyone about babysitting me, right?"

"Um, no," he said.

"Good. Don't, okay?" I said. After a while, we drove up to my street and I could see the looming house of mine come into view. "Can you please be careful, though? Because your ass of a friend, Dexter, lives near this neighborhood and if he finds out-"

"Relax," Dawson said. "You're sounding like my mother." I gave him a dark look and he laughed, stopping the car on my driveway. "Isn't the maid supposed to come today?"

"Yeah," I said, getting out of the car with my backpack. I unlocked the door and came inside. All the lights were off, but there was a nice atmosphere. A clean atmosphere. The railings and floors looked shinier and the carpets felt fresh and new.

I went into the kitchen and smelled something delicious. The counters were all shining, and the granite of the island sparkled more than I have ever seen it. I heard a low humming sound and saw the back of a stout, short lady.

"Hey," I said. The lady jumped and spilled some of whatever she was making on the ground. "Sorry, I'll get some paper towels," I said. The woman turned around and smiled warmly.

"No need for that, I got it under control," she said. "You must be Destiny Ice."

"Yeah...I'm sorry for surprising you," I said. She laughed cheerily, and I heard footsteps behind me. "Oo, who's this handsome boy you've got here?" I turned around to see Dawson putting his backpack down and walking up to us.

"You don't want to know," I said, as he came beside me in front of the island.

"I'm Dawson Sanders," he said, putting out a hand across the island for the woman to shake. I rolled my eyes as she laughed, pleased with his manners. "I'm the babysitter here."

"Well, I'm the maid here. Pearl's the name," she said, brushing back a few grey streaks of hair that fell loose from the rest of her blonde bun.

"I would use the term Pearl the Professional Chef because what're you making?" I said, walking around the island. "It smells amazing."

"Well, I'm making pea soup and I've got steaks ready, too," she said. "Your parents told me you're not vegetarian, and you too, right?" she said, looking at Dawson.

"Yeah," he said. "You probably cook better than my mom." Pearl laughed and checked on the soup.

"That's unfortunate," I whispered to Dawson. I just had to comment, I couldn't stop myself. Dawson grinned, but didn't say anything.

"Well, I wouldn't want you kids waiting," Pearl said. "Go ahead, clean yourselves up and get ready for your meal." Dawson and I got our backpacks and ran upstairs, just so we can start to eat as quickly as possible.

"Wait!" I said to him. I led him to the guest room. "If you're going to stay here for a long time, I suggest you use this room. Do. Not. Step. Into. My. Bedroom. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said. I turned around and went into my ensuite bathroom.

Pearl's food was amazing, and she said she can teach me anytime I wanted. She was very nice herself, exciting, and so cute. I loved her. She can be embarrassing sometimes, just like my mom. She wanted to know all about this babysitting thing and all about Dawson and whether he liked his job so far. I was in the washroom most of the time because I didn't want to give them the pleasure of me turning red. So therefore, I didn't hear his answer to that question.

Because it was her first day here, and she already did so much for the house and us, I told her we should talk the next time she came. Which was Wednesday. She made dinner for us, too, and left at around 9:00 pm. There were plenty of leftovers to last two days.

Okay, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that my parents left on a tour.