Why would he follow through? Why would he want to help me? I look inside the piece of paper expecting some cruel comment only to find to find his phone number in gorgeous handwriting. He didn't trip me out. He could still tell me to meet him somewhere and leave me alone to my embarrassment. But something tells me that he wouldn't do that to me. I feel a strange since of trust towards him.
The halls are almost empty when I finally realize school is over. I've been walking in the wrong direction. I rush towards my locker and get my things. I must be running to my car because the janitor just watches me go. I must get home and fast.
I think I'm speeding but I don't dare look down at the speedometer. I must tell my "parents" that I have plans this evening. They won't be happy that I'll be missing dinner, but they'll be happy I branched out.
I practically run up the stairs to the monstrous front door. I never understood the point of having a front door so large to have an average size house. I burst it open and find my parents standing in the kitchen, looking through cookbooks.
"I got invited to study with someone tonight. Can I go?" I ask almost begging on the floor.
"But your going to miss your birthday dinner." Dad chirps in as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his nose. His tall slim stature makes him look intimidating, but he's really a teddy bear only wanting the best for his daughter.
"I've already had seventeen and I'll have plenty more. I really need to do this studying. I need the help."
"We both know that's a lie." My short yet slim mother says. She on the other hand pulls her glasses down to reveal her dark brown eyes and premature wrinkles.
"Well I need an answer ASAP that way I can figure out the details." They both look at each other and then look at me.
"Alright. Just be home before midnight. It may not be a school night, but you still need a little bit of a curfew. I don't care if you are eighteen or not, you still live under this roof and you still abide by our rules." Mom says like I may never come back.
"I'll take it. I'm going upstairs to get my... yeah" I stumble through and head upstairs. I take out the folded piece of paper from my pocket and type in the number.
Hi, its Lena. Just wanted to see where you had in mind. I send reluctantly. Almost immediately I get a response.
Hey Lena. My place at 4 sound good? I'll send you my address.
That sounds fine to me. I should be there in like 5 to 10 minutes.
Ok. I'll see you soon.
He gave me his real number. He responded. And now he's sending me his address. Is this real? Or am I dreaming? I should go, shouldn't I? I head out the door almost running.
I hop in my mom's Altima and start driving. "You'll be fine. It's just the one person you've had a crush on since 7th grade. It's no big deal. You're only going over to his house to study. You're not at all doing this to avoid your parents. It will be just fine." I keep repeating on the 3- minute drive over to his house.
I pull into the long gaping circle drive. This house is massive. It sits with a massive front door and a grand balcony over the door. The building is standing so tall, if a strong enough wind came through it would tip it to the side. It's gorgeous. I catch up the nerve to go up and knock on the door.
1
2
3 knocks
Silence
1
2 knocks
The door swings open to show a familiar face. Ascot stands there with a smile pressed neatly on his face. He looks pleasantly calm where I am quietly losing my mind. How can he be so calm? He's not me. He's always confident. He's always sure of his every move. He steps forward a little and leans against the open door.
"Did you bring all your language stuff?" He asks in an unreadable tone.
"Yeah I think I have everything but I'm not sure." I say trying not to sound nervous. I fail miserably. My voice breaks at the end, but I try to recover with a small cough.
"It's okay if you don't. I can make copies of mine. Come on in." He backs out of the doorway and motions for me to come in. I walk in almost buzzing with adrenaline. I haven't messed up yet.
The foyer is the grandest room I have ever seen. I'm standing in a room with a two-story high ceiling. There is a table that sits on the side with a door next to it. The other wall holds the entry to a formal dining area.
"If you want to take off you coat the closet is through that door on the right."He says as he passes me to head for the stairs.
"I think I'll just hold onto it." I say with a small smile trying not to be rude.
"That's fine. My room's this way." He says turning back to look at me.
"Okay." I say turning to follow him up the stairs. "Your house is beautiful." I look back up and around while going up the stairs.
"Thank you but it's not mine, it's my mother's. She's an author so she likes to have a space for 'inspiration'" He says while walking up the stairs but making air quotations.
"Your mom's an author? Would I know any or her work?" I ask trying not to pry too much.
"Unless you like political fiction... no. She writes other nonfiction biographies or fictional stories that no one under forty should ever read." He says turning to the right at the top of the stairs.
"Well at least she's home with you. That's a plus."
"Yeah I guess you're right. It's better to have a present parent rather than parents who don't care." He shrugs with his reply. "My room's here on the right." He says stopping in front of an oddly normal door. It's not huge. It's not even decorated to identify who lives behind it.
he opens the door and steps inside the abnormally sized room for a teenager. The ceiling, high. The bed, too big for a single person every night. But there's something strange about the room, it has no personalization. Light gray walls, black bedspread. It could be a random person's room. I would imagine Ascot to have posters on the walls or even the slightest hint that a human stayed here every night. How can he stand such a simple room?