Chapter VI

Today is Thursday, lunch time, so it’s been a few days since I talked to Skye that night. And strangely, since then, I’ve wanted to cancel my prom date with Peyton.  However, I sit with him at lunch anyways, at the “jock/cheerleader” table, not the table with Haley and the others, or Skye’s table.  Skye has always sat by himself in the corner.

 At a distance, I can see that he’s sitting next to a blonde chick, closely.  I walk up to him, and he sees me, but stays silent.  “What?” he asks.

“Can I sit by you for lunch, since you’re my prom date?” I ask, purposely bringing up prom.

“Prom?  With you?  What are you talking about?  I’m going with Tiffany, here.  I would never go with you,” he says.  It hurts a little, but I’m a little relieved.  I leave the table, go across the lunch room, on the way to Skye’s table.

He makes a confused face at me as I walk up to him.  I shrug my shoulders as I sit down.

“You weren’t there long,” he says.

“I know.  It was weird.  He completely dissed me and told me that he had never even asked me, which he did,” I say.  I act like it doesn’t bother me, but it kind of does, and it shouldn’t.  He’s just scum, that’s all.

I can see Haley staring at me from a few tables away. I don’t know what her problem is.  Why she left my house and everything.  I guess I shouldn’t care about that either, but it’s something that interests me.

“Why are you looking over there?” Skye asks, also interested.

“Just wondering about Haley.”

“Haley Thompson?”

“I guess that’s her last name,” I say.  He looks in the direction I’m looking and sees her.  He laughs a little.  “What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says with a giggle.

“Seriously, tell me,” I say, giggling a bit too.

“You befriended ‘The Welcoming Committee’,” he says, making the quotation hand gesture.

“Yeah, so?”

“’The Welcoming Committee’ tries to befriend all the new students, but Haley is bipolar or something.  Have you noticed that there are only four people in their clique?  Yeah, there’s a reason for that.  Haley’s the clique leader, and she’s not a good person,” he says, then laughs.  “I just can’t believe you befriended one of the worst people to befriend.”

“I befriended you after you stole my stuff, didn’t I?” I say as lunch is dismissed.  He kisses me on the cheek after he walks me back to Art class.

The final bell rings, and I see Skye at his locker, which is six down from mine.  He usually would walk, since my house is about two miles away, and he couldn’t ride the bus, because the school would have to know where he lived. 

I walk up to him and say, “Do you want a ride?”

“Sure,” he says.  I like how straightforward he is.

We walk the long walk to my car, and drive home.

 When we get there, we see my mom on the front porch, reading her Cosmopolitan magazine as she usually does. She looks confused when she sees Skye and me get out of the car, and asks, “Where’s Peyton?”

“He’s not exactly my prom date anymore,” I say as I walk to her.

 “Why not?” she asks.

“He acted like he never asked me.  Oh, and Haley and I aren’t friends anymore.  But I made friends with Skye here,” I say.

“Skye?  I feel like I’ve heard of you before.”

“That’s strange, Mrs. Ashmore.  I’m Skye Phillips,” he says, shaking her hand.  He’s obviously trying to pull off that boyish charm that Mom always fall for. He didn’t really have to try, though.  And he’s hiding something, I can tell.

“Nice to meet you, Skye.  Go get me some lemonade, now,” she says, noticing his charisma, and clapping her hands.

“Mom!” I shout, smiling along with her.

“I’m just kidding. Oh, and I got your tree house that you wanted, as childish as it is,” Mom says.

We go around the house to the oak tree and see a room the size of my study. There’s a rope ladder to get up there, and we climb up it, and go inside the room.  We’re both amazed as we see that Mom had even ordered furniture. I was just going to give Skye one of my beanbags.

In the right hand corner is a blowup mattress with a pillow and a black bedspread, with a dark wood nightstand next to it. In the back of the room is a small dresser. To the left of the room is a circular table with pillow chairs. There is also a small TV facing the table. The floor, walls, and ceiling are wood, of course, but Skye can make it seem like home by adding a few posters and lights.

“I love your mom,” Skye says.

“I know you do.  Speaking of her, where would she have seen your name?”

“Does it matter?”

“A little.  It seemed like you were hiding something…”

“I’ll tell you about it later.”

“We have time now,” I say, growing impatient.  He stays silent for a few minutes, and I get mad, so I leave. 

He watches me climb down the ladder and go back into my room, but he doesn’t leave the tree house, and I don’t leave my room for the rest of the night.