Part 2 of Untitled Novel

        Fatal mistake number one was introducing myself to Penn. It’s not as if I had any intention to initially,  but imagine my surprise when I come home from school on a Wednesday afternoon to find a half-naked boy in my kitchen. I screamed, naturally, which made him drop the pitcher of lemonade he was taking from the fridge. His fuzzy blond hair was matted across his forehead and there was beads of sweat dripping down his chest. As muscular and defined as he was, I was repulsed.
         “What are you doing in my house?” I yelled. Worse off, he had my towel around his naked waist.
         “You must be Cavlynne. I’m Penn.” He extended his hand, ignoring the yellow puddle spreading across my kitchen floor. I didn’t meet his grasp. Instead, I glared at him. “You’re mother warned me about your attitude. She said you were a spitball of stubbornness. Rude, too, I see.” He retracted his hand.
         “Fuck you.”
         “She also told me you had Tourette’s. I didn’t think she was serious, but apparently she wasn’t lying. Lighten up, kid. It’s adult stuff, you wouldn’t understand.” He took the pitcher from the floor and  poured the remaining lemonade into two glasses.
         “I’m only four years younger than you. Didn’t we go to school together my freshman year? What did they call you on the football team? Was it Squatting Dog? I really hope that’s not what Blanca calls you when you’re rolling around….”
         “Hey, I’m not about to get into my sex life with a freshman….”
         “I’m a junior.”
         “Whatever. Listen, Cav. You’re mother is amazing….”
         “Shut up!”
         “…and there’s really not much you can do about this, okay? Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get your turn.” He winked at me and sauntered out of the kitchen, smacking my butt as he passed. I heard my mother cooing for her disgusting bedmate.
         “You touch me like that again, I’ll cut your fucking hands off!” I screamed. He merely winked again and climbed the stairs, sloshing lemonade on the freshly vacuumed carpet. I dropped my heavy school bag on the tile floor and pulled out some clean rags. I heard my mother giggling as I soaked up the yellow liquid. Someone had to clean it up. My mother wasn’t going to, and I knew that it would just be something for my parents to scream about when my father got home.
         On the days when I had to play adult, I usually escaped before the real fighting began. It used to be that they tried to keep it a secret, but lately they had been screaming and shouting without so much as a thought of concern for me. The back door didn’t make a sound over their curses and harsh words which made it incredibly easy for me to sneak out. It was always the fresh air that calmed me. Not like our house was dirty, but it felt stuffy- probably because of my parents’ lack of self control and warped sense of family life. I’d hop the fences of the next four houses and wait in the yard of the fifth. I wouldn’t have to wait long; Keeley was always watching.
         Her family life was just as dysfunctional as mine, if not more so. Both her parents were raging alcoholics who spent more time passed out on the couch then tending to their family of five. She was the youngest of four brothers, three of which had already moved out. The oldest, Noah, was married and living in Dublin with his Irish wife- who was expecting her third child- and rarely ever phoned home. I didn’t blame him; as soon as I left this place for good, my parents were the last people I would call.
         Then there were the twins, Myles and Dayton. Their mother was at a race when she went into labor- her pre-drinking days- and thought it would be cute to name them something that related to racing. They both were both in their last year of college. Myles majoring in Medical Science, and Dayton in Photography. I’d spent a lot of time with him in the past summers; tagging along while he went on amateur shoots and asking multiple questions. I’m sure it annoyed him, but he was a good sport about it. He’d let me shadow him while he focused his shot, and held up his fingers to line up the shot. That is, unless his girlfriend came alone. Then I wasn’t allowed.
         Sullivan was the only sibling, besides Keeley, that lived still lived in the house. Strangely, he was completely comfortable with the filth his family lived in, unlike Keeley. He had no intentions to go to college- he expressed this to us often- and took advantage of freeloading off his parents. Although they rarely ever left the house, their father ran an online business- something he could do while intoxicated. It paid the bills, mostly. Sullivan did all the grocery shopping and took advantage of his parent’s credit card he was allowed to use. For emergency purposes only. I guess new mp3 players and stereos fell into that category..
         Keeley didn’t take it so well. She claimed everything was fine, but I knew she was struggling inside. The alcoholism started when she was a baby as a result of her mother’s mid-life breakdown, and her father’s inability to cope with all the responsibilities of parenthood. Turning to drinking wasn’t the best choice, but I wasn’t one to talk.
         When she would slide open the back door and scamper out into the night, our destination was always Spring Hill, which wasn’t actually a hill. It was a frat house a few blocks over that always had a constant supply of party goers and booze. Perfect for what we were after. The nights always brought laughter, drama, and of course, tears. I’d seen Penn there a few times, trying to relive his glory days of being the high school’s best drinker. Not a title I would cherish.
A couple times, when he was really drunk, I could feel the his hot breath on the back of my neck.
         “Why don’t you and I go somewhere?” He’d breath into my ear. He must not have been aware that his horse breath wasn’t a turn-on for me. “Come on. Trust me.” It was hard to trust someone that was sleeping with your mother.
         “You’re such a pig!” Keeley would hiss. She was one of the few people that knew about the sick affair. We basically shared everything; our beds on nights when we couldn’t sleep, our homework, and even our clothes. We were each other’s outlets for everything that was cursing our lives. When we were children, my grandfather would joke about sewing us together seeing as we never separated anyway. She was the one thing I looked forward to when my day took a turn for the worst. We’d have our fun; dancing, drinking, and making out with random people, until we couldn’t walk on our own anymore and stumbled home.
         When I fumbled into the house, quiet as I could in my state, my dad would be sleeping on the couch bed. He’d snort a little bit and mumble, “where’ve you been, Cav?” I’d tell him I was at Keeley’s, and he’d roll over and drift away again. Too easy. And my mother? She didn’t even care enough to ask. When she saw my tired physique the next morning, she’d pet my head and tell me not to stay up so late studying. Yeah, if she’d ever look at my report cards, she’d see that was definitely not the case.
         I didn’t need school or studying anyway. I only had to make it through my last two years of high school and I’d be out of here with Keeley. Two girls, on their own, starting over with a new life!