Chapter 6
It continued to rain all afternoon. Despite that though, football practice was still on after school.
"Coach Willis is a fuckin' diehard, man." Zeke said.
"Tell me about it. Besides my studies, he's one of the reasons I quit the team," replied Stan.
Twirling his keys, Zeke led the five of us to his GTO.
"Are you sure you want to give us all lifts home?" Casey asked him again. "We don't want the coach wringing you for this."
"Nah, its cool. Coach'll live a day without me."
Inside the car, he turned on the heater and radio.
"God, look at my hair. It's a fucking mess." Delilah complained, trying ineffectively to dry it.
Stokely rolled her eyes but refrained from retorting. Ever since Delilah started dating Casey, she and the head cheerleader just had to make do and tolerate each other. But I had to concede; Delilah was marginally nicer to everyone these days.
"Must be my positive influence," Casey had joked when I pointed it out to him and Stokely a week before.
Stan's car was still at the shop having its brakes fixed and Delilah had left hers at home so Zeke was playing cab-driver for the day. We dropped Stokely off first since she lived closest to school. She used to walk to school each day. That was, until Stan started giving her lifts. Similarly, I used to catch the school bus with Casey, but lately Zeke drove me home after football practice when I'd wait up for him.
"Hey Stan, how was the quiz?" I asked.
Stan grimaced. "Uh, don't ask. I totally stuffed up the last question."
"At least you reached the last question," Stokely smiled at him.
"Yeah, at least I did..." He bent his head to Stokely's and they kissed.
They made such a cute couple. Smiling, I turned back in my seat and gazed out the windshield at the rain-slicked road. Zeke had the wipers on at max speed. I leaned back in the passenger seat. I was happy for Stan. All that after-school tuition with Casey was finally paying off.
Three minutes later, Zeke pulled up in front of my place.
"See you guys tomorrow!" I grabbed my bag and shut the door.
Then I quickly ran through the rain up the stairs to the shelter of the porch. Unlocking the front door, I slipped inside. I was about to go upstairs like I usually did everyday but Mrs Harrison, my foster mom, called out from the kitchen.
"Ann, dear, is that you?"
"Yes, Mrs Harrison!" I started up the stairs.
"Come here where we can see you, dear."
Wondering what was up, I walked into kitchen. Mrs Harrison was busy chopping carrots, while Mr Harrison was reading the paper, a glass of water on the table before him.
"Oh, you poor thing! You're soaked to the bone!" Mrs Harrison exclaimed. "Here, I've made you some hot chocolate," she held out a mug.
"Uh, thanks." I took the mug, frowning. What was going on? My foster parents weren't usually half this nice.
"Was that that good for nothing drug-dealer kid?" Mr Harrison asked. He stood and went over to the window.
"His name's Zeke, and he's actually really clever," I replied defensively. In fact, he was applying more of his intellect as Burke had wanted him to last year. His grades were picking up effortlessly, so that he could graduate this year with all of us.
"You know how we don't approve of this Zeke. He's a bad influence."
I frowned. Since when did you care so much? I thought. "I'm going upstairs to clean up, ok?"
"Dinner's at six!" Mrs Harrison called after me. "I'm making your favorite tonight!"
I hurried up the stairs, my mind a whirl of questions. What the hell was going on? The Harrisons were acting totally weird; more like Casey's over- protective parents then their usual couldn't-care-less selves. Maybe they'd finally gotten sick of me and were planning to send me off to another foster home. I hoped that wasn't the case. For the first time since my real parents died, I liked where I was. I had proper friends here at Herrington – I didn't want to leave.
*
Back in the kitchen, Mr and Mrs Harrison exchanged meaningful looks. Some sort of silent communication seemed to pass between them. Then, slowly, Mrs Harrsion put down her chopping knife and nodded once to her husband. Taking a swallow of water, Mr Harrison set down his glass.
Together they headed up the stairs.
It continued to rain all afternoon. Despite that though, football practice was still on after school.
"Coach Willis is a fuckin' diehard, man." Zeke said.
"Tell me about it. Besides my studies, he's one of the reasons I quit the team," replied Stan.
Twirling his keys, Zeke led the five of us to his GTO.
"Are you sure you want to give us all lifts home?" Casey asked him again. "We don't want the coach wringing you for this."
"Nah, its cool. Coach'll live a day without me."
Inside the car, he turned on the heater and radio.
"God, look at my hair. It's a fucking mess." Delilah complained, trying ineffectively to dry it.
Stokely rolled her eyes but refrained from retorting. Ever since Delilah started dating Casey, she and the head cheerleader just had to make do and tolerate each other. But I had to concede; Delilah was marginally nicer to everyone these days.
"Must be my positive influence," Casey had joked when I pointed it out to him and Stokely a week before.
Stan's car was still at the shop having its brakes fixed and Delilah had left hers at home so Zeke was playing cab-driver for the day. We dropped Stokely off first since she lived closest to school. She used to walk to school each day. That was, until Stan started giving her lifts. Similarly, I used to catch the school bus with Casey, but lately Zeke drove me home after football practice when I'd wait up for him.
"Hey Stan, how was the quiz?" I asked.
Stan grimaced. "Uh, don't ask. I totally stuffed up the last question."
"At least you reached the last question," Stokely smiled at him.
"Yeah, at least I did..." He bent his head to Stokely's and they kissed.
They made such a cute couple. Smiling, I turned back in my seat and gazed out the windshield at the rain-slicked road. Zeke had the wipers on at max speed. I leaned back in the passenger seat. I was happy for Stan. All that after-school tuition with Casey was finally paying off.
Three minutes later, Zeke pulled up in front of my place.
"See you guys tomorrow!" I grabbed my bag and shut the door.
Then I quickly ran through the rain up the stairs to the shelter of the porch. Unlocking the front door, I slipped inside. I was about to go upstairs like I usually did everyday but Mrs Harrison, my foster mom, called out from the kitchen.
"Ann, dear, is that you?"
"Yes, Mrs Harrison!" I started up the stairs.
"Come here where we can see you, dear."
Wondering what was up, I walked into kitchen. Mrs Harrison was busy chopping carrots, while Mr Harrison was reading the paper, a glass of water on the table before him.
"Oh, you poor thing! You're soaked to the bone!" Mrs Harrison exclaimed. "Here, I've made you some hot chocolate," she held out a mug.
"Uh, thanks." I took the mug, frowning. What was going on? My foster parents weren't usually half this nice.
"Was that that good for nothing drug-dealer kid?" Mr Harrison asked. He stood and went over to the window.
"His name's Zeke, and he's actually really clever," I replied defensively. In fact, he was applying more of his intellect as Burke had wanted him to last year. His grades were picking up effortlessly, so that he could graduate this year with all of us.
"You know how we don't approve of this Zeke. He's a bad influence."
I frowned. Since when did you care so much? I thought. "I'm going upstairs to clean up, ok?"
"Dinner's at six!" Mrs Harrison called after me. "I'm making your favorite tonight!"
I hurried up the stairs, my mind a whirl of questions. What the hell was going on? The Harrisons were acting totally weird; more like Casey's over- protective parents then their usual couldn't-care-less selves. Maybe they'd finally gotten sick of me and were planning to send me off to another foster home. I hoped that wasn't the case. For the first time since my real parents died, I liked where I was. I had proper friends here at Herrington – I didn't want to leave.
*
Back in the kitchen, Mr and Mrs Harrison exchanged meaningful looks. Some sort of silent communication seemed to pass between them. Then, slowly, Mrs Harrsion put down her chopping knife and nodded once to her husband. Taking a swallow of water, Mr Harrison set down his glass.
Together they headed up the stairs.