Our Little Deadly Secret

Never Expected

I found myself, not even 12 hours after Maac left my bedside last night, inside Maac's car, driving back home. Why, you may ask? Because my parents were at work and couldn't find the time in their work schedule to quickly swing over and pick me up. I mean, it isn't that hard. And I told them I wouldn't have minded even waiting for them in the room as they finished up their stuff for the day. But let's be real: My parents have never been the best at remembering where I was or even remembering that I needed to be picked up from ANYWHERE.

Example: I was six when my mother dropped me off at a summer camp and had told me she would be back just in time before they closed. I spent the whole day wondering how long it would take them to realise after work that they forgot that they even had a daughter. Three hours later, after closing and the head of the camp constantly trying to call my parents, my father was the one to show up to deal with the situation. It wasn't the first time it had happened. Nor would it be the last. Cause here we were, almost ten years later, with me in the car of my math teacher.

Maac was kind enough to, during his free time that then led to his lunch break for the day, come pick me up to quickly drive me home. I felt bad, though, because I didn't know if he was going to be late back to school to teach for his next class. And I would have chewed out my parents, too, if I was to ever find out that my worst fear came true.

Don't get me wrong: when my parents were not divulged into their paperwork and all that fun stuff, they always made sure my needs were met. They were always present to every performance I had. And any time something revolved around a big accomplishment of mine, they would clear their agendas out just to make sure they can absorb every second of my glory. Which was awesome since it balanced out all the times they had forgotten about me due to their busy life schedules.

As Maac and I pulled into the driveway of his place, I hopped out of the car, closing the door behind me, walking towards my house.

"Where are you going?" he asked, stopping me in my tracks.

"To my house? Why?"

"I meant to add 'Friday night'.. where are you going Friday night?"

"Nowhere. Remember? I'm suppose to be recovering."

"I know, but no one said that you can't come over while your cousin is out at a sleepover and your parents are having their date night..."

"Oh. Okay. then I will... Wait! Did you just say Kass was going to be at a sleepover and my parents are having a date night?"

"Uh... yup. I did."

"Lemme guess: they wanted you to keep an eye on me since I'm suppose to be on bed rest. Right?"

"You are correct."

I sighed as I gave him a thumbs up, turning back around, heading off in the direction of my house. I heard his car drive off as I opened the door to the house, walking in.

*************************************

I stood in front of the mirror, taking a hard look at what I had on: a plain white tee and ripped jeans. I wasn't gonna make a big deal about it until my phone buzzed. I ran over to it, thinking it was Ryan, but I found Maac's name on the screen:

Dress nicely... but not too fancy. You will find out later why.

I looked at the message weirdly. Why would he request such a weird thing as such? I sighed before responding back:

Do ripped jeans and a white tee count as dressing nicely..?

Without skipping a beat:

Nice try...