**Note: Hi! So it seems like there are a lot of people who have not been introduced to the wonders of dry shampoo. Well, be prepared to have your life changed. Dry shampoo, my friends, can either be a spray (like hair spray) or a powder that you place on your roots. Some suggest you let it sit, others say rub it in for a bit. Then, you brush it out. Voila! Fresh, oil-free hair for those days you don't or can't wash it. Gives volume and leaves a nice smell. That was probably said in way too much detail, since this story has absolutely nothing to do with hair products. But hey, the more you know. Okay, onward to chapter seven!
Chapter 7
As it turned out, the Taylors were more than happy to have Hannah over, which might have had to do with the fact that Julie began to do her homework, set the dinner table, and even clean her room in preparation for her friend.
That night was pizza night, for Mrs. Taylor said almost begrudgingly, "I'll already be doin' too much cookin' in the morning."
Hannah shook her head. She'd never met a family so diligent in having a full breakfast together on a school day.
Around 8:30 PM the girls retreated back to Julie's room, dragging blankets and pillows behind them to make a bed on the floor. The conversation quickly turned to yesterday's tutoring session. Hannah put a hand on her forehead.
"It was honestly like pulling teeth. Twenty minutes to just say one name correctly. And don't even get me started on how long it took to explain that the Henry's were real people."
Julie laughed. "And how'd he do with the language?"
Her friend scoffed. "He reads a line and asks me what it means. So, I tell him, 'Hal's determined to change the way people see him when he takes over as king.' And he says, 'Why didn't he just say that, then?' It's poetry, it's not supposed to be straight-forward."
"You have more patience than I do. That is for sure."
"I just wish he cared enough about it as he does knocking into people."
Julie and Hannah sat quietly for a minute. It seemed like Julie wanted to talk about it in more detail, but she chose not to pry. She threw a pillow at Hannah's head and crawled up her own bed.
As they each pulled the covers over themselves, Hannah's phone buzzed beside her pillow. It was her father.
Dad: Thanks again for giving us some time to talk.
Me: It's ok. How's it going over there?
Dad: Really great. I think we're getting somewhere.
Me: Oh good
Dad: It's all gonna be ok monkey.
Hannah stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Hannah typed out, I hope so, but quickly erased it and put her phone under her pillow.
"Hannah, are you sleeping already?" came a whisper from the bed.
But there was no reply. Hannah didn't feel like talking, didn't feel like opening up. If she told Julie, Julie would definitely tell her parents, and probably Matt. What would they all think? As angry as Hannah was with her father, she couldn't stand the thought of others thinking bad of him. Better to keep quiet and pretend to be asleep.
~Friday, 6:30 AM~
When the phone alarm went off, Hannah threw the phone across the room, where it landed with a loud thud against the closet door. The sound startled her awake more than the alarm ever could. The phone might have caused some damage. Hannah sat up straight, a little too fast, and a wave of nausea washed over her. Her head was spinning; she hadn't slept well that night, tossing and turning on the floor. It felt as though someone decided to repeatedly tap her on the head with a hammer. The pain shot down to her eyes and along her jaw.
This was going to be a wicked headache.
Hannah turned to ask Julie for an aspirin, but found that the blond was not in her bed. So, Hannah, with her eyes still partially closed and wavy hair tied in a half-bun on her head, made her way to the kitchen. She dragged her bare feet on the carpet, and gently rubbed her temples with her middle fingers.
She saw Mrs. Taylor before her friend, who was cooking away in the kitchen. It was too early for all of this.
"Hannah, honey, you all right? You feelin' sick?" Mrs. Taylor walked toward her and put a hand to her forehead.
"No, I just have a headache. Do you think I could have some aspirin or ibuprofen for-"
But Hannah didn't get a chance to finish her sentence. Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She rotated her entire body toward the dining room table. And there, using up every chair in the house, was Coach Taylor, Julie, and the entire Panther football team.
Instinctively, Hannah crossed her arms over her chest as it dawned on her that she was bare-faced, bra-less, and speckled in blemishes. Her expression one of horror, she looked at the sea of faces until her eyes rested on the long-haired boy at the head of the table. One corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. Without breaking eye contact, Hannah backed out of the kitchen, down the hall, until she was concealed. And then, she ran to the bathroom and shut the door.
She braced herself on the counter and turned on the faucet. As she looked into the mirror, she caught a glimpse of the blemish forming on her chin. She groaned and put her hands on her face.
A knock at the door startled her. "Hannah?" It was Julie.
And it was at that moment that Hannah saw red. She grasped the handle tightly and open the door just enough to poke her head out.
"What the shit, Julie?" she said in a harsh whisper.
Julie gave a quiet laugh, and stopped immediately upon seeing her friend's face. She bit at a hangnail on her thumb. "Yeah, I guess I sort of forgot to tell you about the team breakfast."
"Sort of? There is a group of boys in your kitchen and I just...I'm wearing a tank top, Julie!"
"Sorry." She looked down at her feet, like a wounded animal. "What were you asking Mom for?"
"Motrin, Tylenol. Just something. My head's going to explode."
Julie nodded and walked away. Once the door was closed and locked, Hannah reached for her toothbrush and scrubbed away any trace of morning breath. She unzipped her makeup bag and retrieved a bottle and brush.
Another knock at the door.
As Hannah opened it, she said, "You also could have warned me that…." It wasn't Julie. Hannah quickly closed the door and leaned against it, eyes wide.
Another knock.
"I've got the drugs," Tim said.
"You can just leave them by the door, thank you."
Silence followed. After waiting a moment, Hannah slowly opened the door. He was still standing there, holding out the little white pills. When she attempted to close the door again, he stuck his foot in the way.
"Why aren't you out there havin' breakfast?" he asked, as she took the medicine from him.
"I'm getting ready first. I'll be out there in a little while." She turned back to the counter and unscrewed the lid of the bottle. Creamy brown liquid dribbled on her arm. "Great," she muttered.
"What's that?" Tim asked.
"Foundation." Then she looked back at him. "Why are you still here?"
"I don't know. Curious, I guess. What's it for?"
She sighed, dabbing a teeny bit of the liquid on her hand, and then taking the brush to it. She began at the chin, swiping this way and that as the makeup blended into her skin. "It hides…" She pressed her lips together and swiped it under her nose. "...problems."
"You paint your face?"
"It's just easier to do it this way. Less messy."
He didn't leave. Instead, he watched her paint the rest of it on. She screwed the cap back on and retrieved a tube of mascara, an eyeliner pencil, and blush.
"You put all of that on? What's that one for?"
"This gives you bigger eyes, this lengthens eyelashes, this makes sure I don't look like a ghost." Now he looked horrified. She smiled. "We don't all look like Lyla when we wake up."
Tim didn't like that. His expression turned sour and he snatched the makeup off the counter.
"Hey!"
"You don't need all of this. You're fine just like that. So come on out and get some breakfast." He started to walk away, but she pulled at his shirt.
"Give it back. It's not funny."
"Nope."
"Tim, I am so not in the mood for this right now. Just give me my stuff."
He smiled and shook his head, his hair flopping about.
"Come on. I need it, god damn it." Hannah whined. "Please."
Her voice took on a pleading tone, and her eyes began to look panicked and...What did he see...There was something else. They were starting to look glossy.
"Alright." Tim guided her back to the bathroom and squeezed inside with her, shutting the door behind them. He leaned against the back of the door and crossed his arms. They looked at each other. "What's up with you?"
Hannah put a hand on her hip. "Uh, nothing much, Tim. What's up with you?"
"No, I mean what's wrong."
"Nothing is wrong. I'm fine. I just want my stuff."
He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. "No, somethin' is botherin' you. I can tell."
Hannah looked to the tile on the floor and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. "I'm fine," she said without making eye contact.
"Well, let's see." He began to drum on the door with his thumbs. "You're not at home again. You wanted to work even later than we did yesterday. Somethin' at home, maybe?"
Aren't you observant, she thought. "No." But it didn't sound very convincing.
"You know, if there is somethin' goin' on, you could come to the game tonight, hang out, get some space."
The game. That was where the trouble all started.
She scoffed. "I don't want to go to a stupid football game, okay? I hate it. I'm not gonna waste my Friday night there. So, just drop it."
He looked hurt, but he still didn't leave. And then that familiar feeling of guilt welled up in her chest.
"Sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have said that. Things are just...complicated right now."
Tim ran his fingers through his hair and crossed his ankles. "The Taylors know about it?"
"No, and I'd like to keep it that way."
"Fair enough. Well, come have some breakfast."
"Just give me that bag first, and I will."
The mischievous smile returned to his face as he looked down at the little bag. "I'll tell ya what. Come to the game tonight and you get this back."
"Fine," she answered a little too quickly. She held out her hand. "Give it here."
Tim laughed. "You think I'm that stupid? No, you'll get your bag back. After the game tonight."
"Are you insane? I'm not going out like this."
"Then you're not gettin' it back." As she reached out for it, he held it above her head. It was no use, he was too tall, even when she hopped. She started to threaten him, and he put it between his jeans and underwear. The belt held it safely against him. "Go ahead, then. Get it."
She was taken aback at first, but she soon composed herself and held her up high. "You don't think I will?"
Her timid fingers reached out toward his waist, and she ignored his laughter as he backed against the sink. She was almost there, but he grabbed her wrists. They looked at each other. He wasn't smiling anymore.
Hannah's breathing hitched as she stared at his lips. They were parted slightly. He seemed to be breathing a little heavier as well. But she couldn't move, no matter how hard she tried. Her stomach tightened. He still didn't let go of her wrists.
And then, before she could do anything, he lowered his head just enough to let his lips brush against hers. He kissed the corner of her mouth. She stood there, frozen, as he opened the bathroom door and backed out.
"I'll be keeping this until tonight."
But Hannah hadn't registered what he'd said. She was in a daze. When she was finally able to catch her breath, she stepped out into the hall. "Tim."
He looked at her and waited. She looked anywhere but at him. "Can I at least get the eyebrow pencil...Mine never grew back right after I plucked too much...Just so I can even them out." So smooth.
Tim pursed his lips. "Sure," he said, and unzipped the bag for her. He tossed her the brown pencil and walked back toward the kitchen. "And by the way, don't even think about stoppin' at a store before school. That's against the rules."
That's what you think, she thought. He'd put the idea right in her head. It was his fault, really. Now to determine which drugstore brands worked best. She had to look put-together. Especially after what just happened in there...
"Hey, Matt," she heard him call. "You can go ahead and take Julie to school. I got Hannah covered."
Well, shit.