The House that I Grew up In

On Sunday morning, Annabelle woke up a bit later than usual. Despite what had happened with Sam and Sasha the night before, she was in a great mood as she stretched her arms over her head and looked out the window into the bright, sunny day. Seeing something that caught her eye, she quickly rose from bed and moved across the immaculately decorated guest room, which was swathed in rich crimson and expensive cherry wood.

From the window in the guest room, Annabelle could see across the next-door-neighbors’ lawn and onto Quinn’s driveway. There he was, his mother’s beaten up red Toyota Corolla pulled in backwards and the hood up. He was in jeans and a white t-shirt streaked with oil, perspiration dripping down his forehead in a way that caused butterflies in Annabelle’s stomach to flap around. She wondered if this was a regular thing for him, one of the sweet aspects of Quinn’s personality that he kept hidden, working on his mother’s car on the weekends.

Changing quickly into khaki cotton shorts and a black tank top, Annabelle brushed her teeth, pulled her hair back into a messy bun and headed downstairs. As she had quickly grown used to after arriving, she didn’t see anyone around, so she headed out the front door after grabbing a couple bottles of Evian water from the fridge.

“Maybe I was wrong,” Annabelle said out loud as she approached Quinn, startling him a bit. “Maybe labels do adhere sometimes. After all, you’ve got the attitude, the clothes AND you work on cars – you’re a bad ass. You’re like Fonzie.”

“Do they not have TV shows that had been released in the last thirty years in Mexico?” Quinn smirked, gratefully taking the water Annabelle handed him. “Thanks,” he added after taking a long, deep swig. He tried not to notice as Annabelle took a sip of her own water and a few drops of condensation dripped down onto her chest, just above the curved neckline of her top.

“So what are you doing?” Annabelle leaned against the car and pointed at the engine.

Shaking his head, Quinn looked down at his work. “Nothing much,” he said. “Just an oil change and a tune up.”

Impressed, Annabelle raised her eyebrows, and she wondered to herself why she was feeling so nervous suddenly. It could be the expression on Quinn’s face, somewhat shy but approving. It could be the way his tongue reached out to wipe away a few stray drops of water on his lips. Or it could be his eyes, bright green and penetrating as he searched her face.

Yeah, it was his eyes.

“Well, I should get back,” Annabelle finally said, motioning with her water bottle toward Christy’s house. “I just wanted to say hi.”

“I thought I told you not to think that we were friends,” Quinn teased, loving the way Annabelle’s lips pursed in a smirk when he made an off-handed comment. “But thanks for the water, anyway.”

“Don’t worry,” Annabelle quipped back. “I don’t think we’re friends. I think I’m taking pity on the walking tough-guy cliché that lives in the house that I grew up in.” Turning around with a grin, she began walking away.

This made Quinn wonder about something he hadn't thought about before. “Hey,” he called out to Annabelle's retreating figure, causing her to turn back to face him again. “I was just wondering... which one was your room when you lived here?”

“Um, top floor, next to the bathroom,” Annabelle replied, smiling at the picture in her mind of her old bedroom.

“Oh,” Quinn’s face flushed a bit, but he grinned widely. “It’s mine now. Though I'm sure it looks a little different than it did when a thirteen year old girl lived there.”

Annabelle bit her lip. "I wouldn't mind seeing it again sometime," she said, but seeing the way Quinn's eyebrows shot up at the suggestion, she blushed. "I meant, along with the whole house. For nostalgia's sake.... Anyway, bye." She turned quickly and got away before Quinn could reply.

As Annabelle walked the short distance between his house and Christine’s, Quinn watched her from the corner of his eye. Although she was nothing like the girls he usually dated, who tended to get into fights, drink and smoke, and make the first moves towards sex, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

And it wasn’t just her amazing body – thin but muscular, not sickeningly skinny like so many of the girls he went to school with; or the way her eyes were so dark, there were times he lost sight of the pupil for a moment; or the way her long, naturally highlighted hair bounced softly and naturally around her. Well, it was those things, but not only.

Mostly it was the mystery that she was to him. Quinn knew from his mother that Annabelle lived in a poor area of Mexico with her mother, a doctor who took part in humanitarian efforts, and that she often helped her mother in her work. And although he didn’t know what type of music she liked, or her favorite food, or even what she wanted to do in the future – all things he secretly hoped he would find out that summer – that wasn’t it, either.

None of that was really what he meant by mystery – it was more the things she said, about labels, and not judging people, and letting people be who they truly were. These were the sort of ideals people claimed to want to achieve, but she was the first person he had ever seen actually living them. He really respected her, although it was unlikely he would ever admit that to anyone.

-----

“Where’s Christine?” Mrs. Wilson asked Annabelle as soon as she reentered the house. Although Annabelle had grown up feeling like the Wilson’s were a second family to her, that was no longer true. The harsh tone in Mrs. Wilson’s voice right then was the perfect example of why.

“With Laura and Sasha, I believe,” Annabelle replied honestly. “She was planning on staying at Laura’s house last night. I was going to stay, but I wasn’t really having fun so Christy lent me her car so I could come back here.”

Looking untrustingly at Annabelle for a moment, Mrs. Wilson seemed to be trying to read the teenage girl in her kitchen.

“Laura’s mother called me a few minutes ago,” Mrs. Wilson said slowly to Annabelle, who merely listened with interest. “She and her husband got home early from a trip to the city expecting to find you girls there, and instead found Laura with a boy. In bed together.” Raising her eyebrows in surprise, Annabelle wasn’t sure what to say, but Mrs. Wilson continued anyway. “Since Annabelle’s bed wasn’t slept in, I called Josh’s parents. Turns out he wasn’t home, either. Do you know anything about this?”
“No, I’m sorry,” Annabelle replied honestly. “I was home and in bed before 10 last night.”

“But was Josh at Laura’s house last night?” Mrs. Wilson’s eyes slit as she studied Annabelle.

The truth was, Annabelle was a terrible liar. She had never had a reason to lie. Her mother had always made sure to keep on open, honest line of communication between them. She was always respectful of Annabelle’s thoughts and feelings, never judging her daughter, and they discussed issues that they disagreed on.

However, Annabelle knew that Mrs. Wilson was nothing like her mother, and that Christy was likely dishonest with her on a regular basis. “He stopped by the house for a few minutes,” she finally said. Although it was the truth, it wasn’t the whole truth and Annabelle still averted her eyes.

Without saying anything for a minute, Mrs. Wilson pursed her lips. “Okay, you can go,” she dismissed Annabelle like one might dismiss a butler or maid. Without a second thought, Annabelle scurried upstairs. An hour later, she was curled up in an overstuffed chair hear the window in the guestroom reading when she heard yelling come from downstairs.

“I wasn’t with Josh!” Christy was yelling at her mother. “Laura invited some guy over, so Sasha and I left and went to her house. I never even saw Josh last night!”

“That’s not what Annabelle said,” Mrs. Wilson’s voice was loud and accusatory. “So obviously one of you is lying, and I don’t see any motive for Annabelle to be lying, do you?”

There was a moment of silence when Annabelle knew Christy was quickly trying to come up with a new lie, but it was too late. “You are grounded for a week!” her mother yelled, almost sounding happy about it. “No going out, no cell phone, and definitely no Josh.”

“Whatever,” Christy yelled back. “I don’t care.” Storming up the stairs, she stuck her head into the guest room. “Thanks for ratting me out,” she said coldly to Annabelle. “Now I’m grounded for a week.” She turned and left the room before Annabelle could even respond.

Sitting in silence for a moment, Annabelle tried to figure out why Christy was mad at her. She had to know that Annabelle hadn’t intended on getting her into trouble, right? And besides, Christy was the one who stayed out all night with her boyfriend and lied about it.

“Don’t think like that,” Annabelle chided herself silently. “You don’t know what the circumstances were.”

Walking up to Christy’s closed door, Annabelle knocked. And knocked. And knocked. Finally opening the door, she saw Christy sitting at the white wicker desk in the corner with her legs pulled up beneath her on the matching white wicker chair. She was typing frantically on her keyboard as she listened to her iPod.

Putting her hand on Christy’s shoulder to get her attention, Annabelle was surprised when the girl turned around with a glare. “Do you mind?” she asked coldly as she removed her ear buds. “Thanks to you, this is going to be my only way of communicating with Josh for the next week.”

“I’m sorry you got in trouble,” Annabelle said sincerely to Christy. “I just didn’t know what I was supposed to say to your mother. I’m not very good at lying – you have to remember that from our childhood.”

“We’re not children anymore,” Christy snapped back. “This is something you learn to do as you get older. Unless of course you live in the middle of nowhere with no friends and no life, nothing normal. Like you – a freak.”

Annabelle actually felt like she had been slapped, the sting was so great from Christy’s words. She didn’t say anything, watching Christy unremorsefully turned around, put her ear buds back in and started typing once again.

Leaving the room, Annabelle closed the door quietly and stared at it for a moment, still in shock. She suddenly felt her eyes filling with tears, thinking that Christy WAS just as cruel and judgmental of her as Sasha and Laura. Worse than that, she thought Annabelle was a freak. Annabelle entered the guest room and closed the door behind her. She wished she could call her mother, but the only phone in the village was in a town several miles from the makeshift hospital. Annabelle would have to wait until her mother got a chance to call her, which could be a while.

Suddenly, Annabelle felt completely alone.

-----

Three days in the house getting the silent treatment from Christy was too much for Annabelle. Although she had considered stopping by Karen and Quinn’s house, she really didn’t feel up to it. The truth was, after the way Christy had treated her, Annabelle was having some trust issues, which had never been a problem for her in the past. A big part of her just wanted the summer to end so she could go home and be with her mother.

Thinking of her mother made Annabelle fret a bit. It had been five days since the last time they spoke, although her mother had said she would try to call fairly frequently. Annabelle was getting unquestionably worried, checking the Internet several times a day and reading about the violence and political upheaval going on. Things there were dangerous, more dangerous than anywhere else her mother had gone to in the past. If Annabelle had realized just how treacherous things were there before her mother left, she might not have been so supportive.

“What was it Gandhi said?” Annabelle thought to herself, trying to calm her fears using her and her mother’s game. It worked a bit, too, as she smiled to herself.

“There is nothing that wastes the body like worry, and one who has any faith in God should be ashamed to worry about anything whatsoever.”

Still, despite agreeing with the meaning of the words, Annabelle knew she was still worried for her mother. Wanting to clear her head some, she walked downstairs, and past Christy laid out on the expensive beige leather couch with a diet soda balanced precariously on her knee, who didn’t even bother looking up from the talk show on the television screen as Annabelle left through the front door.

The elementary school that Annabelle and Christy had attended wasn’t far, so she decided she would head there. Even after they had started at junior high, the girls had enjoyed spending time at the playground, finding it to be a safe and comforting place. Stepping into the street, though, Annabelle heard her name being called and couldn’t help but smile a bit as she turned around at the sound of Quinn’s voice.

To Annabelle’s surprise, Quinn was sitting on the hood of an old beaten-up blue Mustang. Beside him was another guy, the same age and wearing basically the same clothes as Quinn – both were in leather jackets, jeans and boots, and both were smoking - although Quinn's friend had a completely shaved head. Smiling to herself a little, Annabelle walked over.

“Hi Quinn,” Annabelle greeted him, feeling her pulse speed up a bit as she approached him. She grinned widely when she realized that he had immediately thrown his cigarette and was removing his jacket, as if seeing her had reminded him to not be such a slave to the label of the bad boy.

“Hey, Annabelle,” Quinn was trying to keep his voice steady for two reasons. First, because he didn’t want to look like a loser in front of his friend; and second – and more importantly – because he didn’t want to seem like an ass in front of Annabelle. He hadn’t seen her in three days, and he had been starting to go crazy. “Oh, this is my buddy, Forest. Forest, this is Annabelle.”

“The chick that does that shit in Mexico?” Forest’s voice was gruff and his language course, but his expression said that he was impressed by Annabelle – by both her appearance and whatever he had heard from Quinn. “That’s some cool shit you do with your mom.”

“Thank you,” Annabelle replied with a grin. “It’s nice to meet you,” she added, looking over at Quinn, who seemed a bit pale. Annabelle guessed that Quinn hadn’t intended on Annabelle knowing he had mentioned her to his friend. However, Annabelle was flattered.

“Anyway, where are you headed?” Quinn asked, looking at Annabelle hopefully as he bit his lip. “Forest was just taking off for work, so do you want to hang out or something?”

Swallowing, Annabelle nodded. “Sure,” she said. Turning to Forest, she asked him some questions about his job, being friendly before he left. While not too wordy, he actually seemed like a nice guy.

A few minutes later, Forest rose from the hood of the car. “Well, I gotta go before I’m late and get my ass fired,” he told the two people in front of him. “You kids have fun. Annabelle, it was cool meeting you. You should hang out some time.” Nodding, Annabelle smiled at Forest, who then turned to Quinn. “And dude, you struck gold. A non-bitchy cool as hell chick without drama that looks this good with no makeup? Don’t fuck it up.”

Quinn’s cheeks were scarlet as Forest drove off. “He’s an asshole,” he finally told Annabelle, causing her to laugh.

“I didn’t think so,” Annabelle replied, walking up towards the wooden front porch steps and taking a seat. “He seemed nice. Plus, he called me a cool as hell chick. I don’t know if anyone’s ever called me that before.”

"Why am I not shocked?" Quinn teased as he sat beside Annabelle, placing his jacket on his other side of him. "So, I haven't seen you in a while. You been having too much fun with the Princess Bunch?"

Her face falling a little, Annabelle suddenly thought of how cold Christy had been for the past few days. While she wouldn't have minded having someone to talk to about it, she quickly decided against saying anything to Quinn. After all, his opinions of Christy were already fairly low, and Annabelle was sure they would be even worse if he heard the story. And, as usual, Annabelle was hoping for the best - that Christy would come around. If that happened, she wouldn't want there to be more of a reason for there to be animosity between Quinn and Christy.

"What do you do with your time?" Annabelle decided to completely change the subject, turning it around on Quinn. "You don't work, but I don't see you out much either."

Blushing slightly, Quinn shrugged a little nervously. "Oh, I'm busy," he said, not meeting Annabelle's eyes.

"With what?" Annabelle asked, although not demandingly. She truly was curious what Quinn was doing with himself all summer.

Looking around the neighborhood, with its overbuilt homes and expensive landscaping, Quinn was silent for a moment. The truth was, he hadn't liked someone new this much in a long time - even as a friend - and he was nervous telling Annabelle too much. However, he also knew she was a very honest person, and he didn't want to lie to her about anything, either.

"It's really hot out here. Why don't you come inside?" Quinn asked. "There's some stuff you should know about me - things you've probably heard bits and pieces from Christine and her friends. But I'd like the opportunity to tell you everything myself."

Annabelle looked into Quinn's nervous eyes with shock. She had just asked a question about how he spent his time, and now he was willing to share a lot more than that with her. Annabelle was touched. Rising from her seat on the porch steps, she gave Quinn an encouraging smile. "I would love to hear about you," she said honestly. "And I'd kill for a cold drink."

Chuckling, Quinn rose, too. With anyone else, he might be scared to tell them the truth, but with Annabelle... He believed he didn't have a reason to be scared. She wouldn't judge him. "We've got lemonade and iced tea. Come on." He opened the door and ushered Annabelle inside before him, closing the door behind him and getting ready to share some deeply personal things with someone he had met only a couple weeks ago, yet who he felt closer to than anyone he had met in years.

-----

THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO IS READING THIS! I FORGOT HOW MUCH I ENJOY WRITING. NOW SOME RESPONSES TO REVIEWERS:

TO SILKEN PETAL – THE WAY I SEE THINGS IS THAT CHRISTY ALWAYS HAD THE CAPACITY TO BE A BITCH, BUT BEING AROUND ANNABELLE MADE HER A BETTER PERSON. BUT AS YOU CAN TELL FROM THIS CHAPTER, SHE MAY HAVE BEEN AWAY FROM HER OLD FRIEND FOR TOO LONG.

TO PIKACHEESE – I’M SO HAPPY YOU’RE STILL READING AND REVIEWING! YOUR REVIEWS ALWAYS MADE ME SO HAPPY! AND YES, I’M GOING TO TRY TO PICK UP ON NOTICED THIS WEEKEND. I HATE LEAVING STORIES UNFINISHED.

TO MISTRESS LUNA – THANKS FOR YOUR THOUGHTS. I AGREE ABOUT THE LABELING, BUT I DON’T THINK ANNABELLE IS SOMEONE WHO GETS ANGRY EASILY (ALTHOUGH QUINN HAS MADE HER LOSE HER TEMPER ONCE ALREADY).

THANKS ALSO TO ASHIE, JOEE, COPE, EDWARD AND TATA12772 FOR TAKING THE TIME TO REVIEW!