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I try to visualize what she was trying to say in my head that started with anH, and when I take a few seconds too long, Mrs. Anderson calls out again, “Dalton, do you know what Natalie’s hobby is?”
I close my eyes and say the only thing that comes to mind. “Horses?” My tone proves I’m unsure, but when I glance at Natalie, the way she closes her eyes and drops her head back in relief proves I at least got the answer right.
Mrs. Anderson moves on to the other students, and when she’s done, she reminds us that the hobby papers are due Thursday, which we should have started by now.
After class, I walk to Natalie’s desk to stop her before she heads out.
“Hey.” I grab her arm slightly.
She rolls her eyes, which I’m learning is her favorite gesture when it comes to me. I guess it’s better than flipping me off.
“Thanks for saving us today,” I say sincerely.
I’m not a total dick. We would have been screwed if she hadn’t spoken up.
“Look, I don’t want to have to do this either, but guess what. We’re stuck. The least you can do is reply back to me.”
“I know. That was a dick move. I forgot we had to do something for today.” I place my hand on my chest, trying to show I genuinely mean what I’m saying.
When she sees my knuckle that’s cut up from yesterday, her eyes go big in recognition though she blows me off.
“Whatever. I have to get to class.”
She storms off without another word, and I let her, knowing I kind of deserved it today, but only for not doing the assignment, not for hitting her brother. He had that coming.
I get home after practice to an empty house. I shouldn’t be surprised though. This is how my entire life has been. When Leslie lived here, we at least had each other, but now that she’s away at college, I spend a lot of nights by myself.
I head to the fridge to see Mary, our maid, left me a plate for dinner.
I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s been more of a mom than my actual mom, who is always off, gallivanting on trips with her girlfriends and spending my dad’s money in any way she knows how. I guarantee that’s the only reason she even married him in the first place. To my knowledge, they’ve never had a real relationship.
I close the fridge door, deciding to go for a run before I eat. Yes, I had football practice after school, and, yes, I still go for a run. The nanny I had up untilI got my license always said it was myme time, which I try to blow off as a bunch of bullshit, but deep down, I know what she said was true. It seems to be the only way I can get through all the fucked-up shit in my head at the end of the day.
With my AirPods in, blasting my workout playlist, hoping it will drown out my thoughts, I head out to the back side of our property for my run. Twenty yards down the path, and no such luck.
How did Natalie know I liked to run?
The thought is stuck in my mind on repeat, and no matter what song plays through my head, I keep going back to that.
No one else besides my family knows that I come back here, not even Marcus, Eli or Ben. I don’t go running through the streets for everyone to see, so how did she know? Lucky guess seems pretty farfetched to me.
In this world where everyone knows who I am and who my dad is, it’s been something that’s only mine, but now that I know she knows, something inside me just feels weird, and I can’t figure out why.
At first, I thought it was more of a violation of my privacy, like she was some Peeping Tom, but then I rolled my own eyes at that thought. Even I know she’s not stalking me in some crazy way.
Then, what was it?
Why am I so bothered that she knows I like to run?
After I shower, I lie on my bed and go through my Snapchat app to find the message Natalie sent me with her phone number and finally decide to just come out and ask her through a text message.
How did you know I like to run?
Bubbles instantly appear, so I keep my Messages app open and wait for her reply.
Oh look who decided to actually talk to me. OMG it’s THE Dalton Wick. Stop me while I vomit.
Very funny. But seriously why didn’t you say football or baseball?
