Chapter 5: Learn to Live
"Dean. Your aunt is here."
I looked at the officer for a moment and got up. I exited the office and followed the cop towards the front. There was a lady with a white shirt and jeans there. She had brown hair like my mom, but she had her hair pulled down. She looked at me when I entered. She must have been my aunt. The cop introduced us.
"Dean. This your Aunt Leslie Thompson."
"Hey kiddo," she said. "You can call me Les'"
"Hi."
I guess she could see that I was still depressed about what happened. She and the cop had a quick talk. Then we walked outside and got into her old beat-up car. I'm serious. That car needed someone to fix it.
"We're going to run by your house first. So you can pack your things. You want me to drop you off and pick you up later?"
"Sure."
"That's perfect. I need to run some errands anyway."
We drove to my house and she slowed the car down in the front.
"I'll pick you up in twenty," she said as I exited the vehicle.
"Okay."
"Hey, kiddo!"
I turned around. She was reaching for something in the glove compartment.
"You'll need a key."
"Thank you."
"See you in twenty."
She drove off and I walked up to the door. I inserted the key and went in the house. The stench was still there. I looked in the living room. The pieces of the vase were still there. But the beer bottles were gone. The police must have picked them up for evidence. I walked up to my room. I didn't ever want to look at that spot again.
I packed all my clothes. I never noticed but I had a lot of them. I had to get my mom's suitcase for some of my clothes. I packed up some of my valuables too. Like some books I liked and my football. This was the football that my dad gave me. We used to throw it around before he died.
I sat on my bed. Just thinking about how good life used to be. My perfect life was falling apart one at a time. Starting with my parents.
I walked outside with my stuff and leaned against the closed door. Then another thought kicked in. How would my friends react to this? Would they still accept me even though I'm might not be a soc anymore. I heard that there was a middle part of the groups. People that aren't socs or greasers. The neutral part. They probably would still be okay with me if I wasn't a soc. But if I became a greaser, then it would be a different story.
Les' car pulled up soon. That really did seem like a quick twenty minutes, but oh well. I lifted up my things and walked over to the car. She got out the car and opened up the trunk.
"Let me help you with that," she said and I handed her one of my bags. We got into the car.
"Now let me take you to my new house," she said starting up the car.
The car made a couple of noises but we started moving. I hoped the car wouldn't just explode or something.
As we drove, I saw the scenes get dirtier and dirtier. I realized it then. I was entering the greaser neighborhood. Oh God. I was going to become a greaser. We pulled up to a dirty house.
"Here we are," she said parking the car. "My new house."
"New to you," I mumbled.
"You say something?" she asked.
"No."
We got out the car. She handed me my bags and she got out here own.
"I already had my furniture put in," she said. "Fine boys they were. Couldn't stop making conversations though."
We went inside. Oh man. I had never been inside a house that looked this terrible. It was too dark for me. It was bad enough I had on my good sweater and kaki pants. I didn't fit into the scene very well. It was hot in there; I had to roll up my sleeves.
We got settled and I walked out of my new, well not necessarily, room. Les' was cooking dinner in the kitchen when I walked through.
"Hey. Why don't you go outside and introduce yourself to the neighborhood."
"No. That's okay. I don't feel like walking around."
"Suit yourself."
I went into my room and sat on my bed. How could this woman be this happy in such a cruddy house? It didn't make any sense. I just lay back on the bed. It wasn't as comfortable as my other one, but I think I'll manage. Les' was able to keep some of the stuff in our house. She didn't want the decorations. But just some of the furniture. One thing she said she wouldn't get rid of was her couch. I don't know why. The couch was tearing apart.
The next morning, I was awakened earlier than I usually get up.
"What," I said sleepily.
"C'mon kiddo," my aunt said in a jolly voice. "We've got to get ready to go."
"To where?"
"To church. Your mom never took you?"
"No."
"That sister of my mine. C'mon. That sweater you wore yesterday will be fine."
She left the room and I sat up. Hold on. I just realized what she had just said. Did she want me to wear the same shirt two days in a row? This woman's crazy.
