I turned for the doors and we walked outside. I hadn't even realized it until now, but there was a straight down-poor; it drenched us in seconds, and I slipped on the wet pavement.
Carson caught me by my elbow, and barely saved me from landing in a rather deep puddle. Embarrassment fled through me, burning my cheeks. I was thankful that I've never been a deep blusher, so I could easily hide my discomfort.
I didn't say thank you, and didn't look at him either. I was just heading straight for his car, until I realized I didn't know what his car looked like. I paused and let him ahead of me, following him.
It was strange. I couldn't tell which car was Carson's. In fact, I couldn't tell what even his favorite color was. The shock of how blind I was to him knocked the breath right out of me.
He led me to his car, which I discovered was one of the nicest in the parking lot. It was a shiny black Buick Regal, the newest. Even with the fancy built-in encyclopedia in my head, I still didn't speak fluent Car.
"Will you're parents be home?" he asked out of the blue. I had been thinking about David again, how his silver eyes, filled with hatred, burned and thirsted for my suffering. I shuddered and had to be reminded of the question at hand.
"Uh," I thought for a moment. "No, I think they'll be at work," I lied. I thought to myself how if my dad, my dead-to-me-father were here in this town, I'd have strangled the life near out of him, so he might feel the pain he caused us, my brother and sister and me.
"Oh. You think?" he wondered.
"Yeah, their hours are always unpredictable." The lie came easy this time.
"I see. Where do they work?" I ignored the question and stared out the window, watching as we sped past house after house. I told him to take a left on the next street. We were on Waterman now, and I directed him to Morse street, which was clear on the other side of town, past Marshall Road.
After passing the Career Center, I made him pull over. We were still a block or so away from the house. I began to turn and walk up the street, and he slowly inched forward to follow.
Rolling down the window, he asked, "What are you doing? Don't you live right there?" he pointed to a white house.
I shook my head. "It's fine, I'll walk the rest of the way."
"Seattle, I said I'd take you home, all the way home. It's pouring rain, it's cold, I'm not about to let you walk in this weather," he argued.
I smiled to myself. Whoever raised this boy, they brought him up right. He had some real manners, inconvenient as they were for me.
"The motion of the car was making my head pound worse," I told him, hoping the excuse word work. It didn't.
"Then I'll walk with you."
"You really are persistent, aren't you?" He nodded, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
He turned his car off and got out, standing beside me. "Where to?"
I told him straight, and we walked.