Chapter FOUR

     I was a popular girl, but not for the usual reasons, like being a cheerleader or being super-hot. I was not short or tall, not skinny, really. My dark hair was always up in a bun and my green eyes weren't anything special.  The popularity just sort of happened – as I dated more and more, everyone just sort of knew who I was. But now I felt like finishing up junior year with my head down, tail between my legs. There was a little over two months to go.

   "Bea, wait up!"

   Carter called out from somewhere behind me, the end of the following week. I was walking from first period to my locker, to grab a textbook I had forgotten.

   It had been mostly a regular week so far. I'd noticed that Megan and Tucker were still a thing, yet I'd also seen him strolling the halls with his football buddies, laughing and fighting and whatever else they did. I noticed everything. Mickey had stopped straightening her hair that week, so it was sort of poofy, around her shoulders, and she was wearing bright colored headbands. She liked to change up her look often, always wearing something bright to stand out.

      I turned my head as Carter jogged up beside me. He was tall, and had dark spiked hair with green eyes. He always wore jeans and a collared shirt, but he owned around sixty pairs of shoes. It was one of the things that fascinated me about him. Today, he was wearing solid white sneakers.

      "Walk me to second period?" I asked him.

    We still flirted, somewhat. We still hung out, a lot. He wasn't like all of my other exes, who were awkward around me. He was one of my best friends.

  "Yeah, I gotta talk to you anyway," he replied, speeding up to keep up with me.

   "Oh, what about?" I hated confrontation, especially with him, so I figured I would slip away into the crowd if it was something like that.

    "Advice, actually. Sasha is... great. But, I don't really know what to do to be a good boyfriend." He looked a bit uncomfortable asking me this.

   "Don't cheat on her," I said quickly.

   "Well, yeah, I know. I just mean... when things were good with Tucker, what did he do to make you feel special?"

    I honestly had to think about this until we were standing in front of my chemistry lab. Still, nothing came to mind right away. All I could think about was how he had cheated more than once and definitely never really cared about me.

   "I'll get back to you on that," I said, stepping into the doorway.

   He smiled, realizing maybe I didn't have an answer at all. I didn't. Tucker took me to parties, took me out for food, and one time we went camping for a weekend with a bunch of his friends. It was all fun, at the time, but thinking back, Tucker mostly did what his friends were doing, and I just tagged along. We had been dating about six months before we had sex for the first time. I'd never dated anyone that long, or had sex. I was his longest relationship, too, but not his first time having sex.

     Mickey and TJ were both in my chemistry lab, so it was one of my less dreaded classes. She was sitting in the same spot she always did, with a chair beside her waiting for me. She was feisty and could be a huge bitch, but she usually apologized first when we had fights. I loved her for that.

    Smiling at her, I leaned in. "So, I forgot to tell you about my dad."

    The room was loud, filled with laughter and chatter as the teacher hadn't arrived yet. Someone was playing music from their phone.

   Mickey looked concerned. "What about him?"

   "He's moving to Europe. With Paige."

   "Oh hell no! She's been around for like a month," she yelled, slamming her hand on the table.

   "Also, he told me over text. This is what he thinks of me, I guess." I rolled my eyes, dropping my bag on the floor.

   "Sorry, Bea. That's so shitty," Mickey said, shaking her head. I shrugged, saying nothing. She knew I was used to this crap by now. "So, Don's for your real birthday tomorrow? Just us?"

   I let myself smile. Don's was our favourite pizza place. "TJ can come, and tell Carter."

   "Okay, awesome. Six o'clock?"

   "Perfect."

   That evening, there was a knock on the front door while I was in the kitchen, cooking a frozen dinner. Mom wasn't home yet, and Talia was in her bedroom, hiding out from me. Or on the phone.

   "Bea," my Dad said sweetly, stepping inside. "Happy birthday."

   "It's tomorrow," I told him.

   "I know. But I'm working tomorrow and we are leaving this weekend."

    I just stared at him. I hadn't seen him in weeks, maybe a month. Now he was there, in front of me, and I was just angry with him. "Leaving?"

   "For France."

   "This weekend?"

    He nodded, realizing that he hadn't told me when he was moving, just that he was. "I know. Fast."

   "Are you sure it's a good idea?" I spat out.

   "You don't have to look out for me, Bea. I'm okay," he said.

    I wasn't looking out for him. I was trying to tell him I hated his girlfriend and that he shouldn't be ditching us completely to move to France with her.

   "Well, you're making poor decisions. Not that that's new," I said, still staring at him.

   "Honey, I know this is... all new. But it's going to be great for me." He was smiling. Smiling. Ugh.

   "Well, that's all that matters, right?" I shot at him.

    He looked hurt. More than hurt. But a moment later, he held out a small gift bag to me. He had always been notorious for bringing Talia and I gifts that he knew mom would say no to. When we were younger, he did it to try to fix our relationship. As we got older, it was just to spite mom. He got both of us our first cell phones. He paid for Talia's cheerleading classes when she was twelve, because it was all she wanted to do and mom hated the idea.

    Now, I took the bag from him, curious. He owed me a good gift. I pulled out the tissue paper and in the bottom of the bag was a set of keys, on a key ring with a big plastic B. Before I could comprehend what this was, he was talking.

   "They are keys to my Mercedes."

   "Dad." I was just staring at the keys, in the bottom of the bag, afraid to touch them.

   "I can't take it with me... and I was trying to decide if I should sell it, or put it in storage...but, you have your licence-"

   "I hardly ever drive."

  "Well, you don't have a car to drive."

   "Dad, mom will lose her shit."

   "Well, that's just a bonus for me," he grinned. "I trust you more than anyone, Bea. You deserve it. You deserve everything."

   "You're giving me your car?" I said, like there was no way this was actually happening.

   "Yes. It's outside. And the insurance is paid for a year. You'll just have to cover gas -"

   "Oh my god!" I yelled, surprising him. I literally jumped, then wrapped my arms around him. We were both shocked, and as I pulled away, Talia appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

   "Dad?"

   "Oh, good. Talia. Come, I need a hug from you, too," he said, holding out his arms. He was beaming.

   "Why are we hugging?" she asked, looking at me.

   "He's leaving. This weekend," I told her. "And... he gave me his car."

   "What?!" Talia screamed.

   "Honey," Dad began again, now looking at my sister. "I will pay for you to come to France, for your birthday."

   She would be fifteen in June. I couldn't believe it, and neither could she. Her face lit up. "Really?"

   "Of course." He just looked happy, that he'd come and surprised us each with something. Both things that would make mom hate him even more.

   Talia hugged him, then we stood there together for a few minutes, none of us really knowing what to say. He asked us to FaceTime whenever we wanted, so we agreed. Then we watched him go, and it felt similar to when I was twelve, and he left our house for the last time, with a duffle bag over his shoulder. He had left in his old pick-up that night, and we didn't see him for a month.

    Now, I put my arm around Talia's shoulder and was surprised that she didn't pull away immediately. She was much smaller than me, which was why it was so hard to imagine that she was almost fifteen.

   "He gave you his Benz," she said finally, still shocked.

   "You're going to France," I said back.

   "Oh my god, I have to go call Tyce!" she shrieked, then took off out of the room.

   When my Mom came in an hour later, I was in the family room, watching a show, also texting Mickey. I had already sent her ten pictures of the car.

   "Beatrice!" she yelled from the front hall, before even closing the door. 

   I hated my full name, but I was named after mom's grandmother. When I was six, I demanded everyone start calling me Bea. And everyone did, except my mom.

    "Yeah?" I called back, pausing my show. I knew what was coming.

    She appeared in the doorway, her mouth open. "What is that car doing parked on the road?"

    "Oh. Well, you see. Dad sort of... gave it to me. For my birthday." I braced myself, knowing she was about to explode.

    "He what?" Her eyes were wide.

    "He can't take it to France. So he gave it to me. He said the insurance is paid for a year -"

    "Oh, no. This is not happening."

    "Mom, stop. Please. He gave me his car. He added me to the insurance and prepaid it. I'm a good driver," I told her seriously.

    "Of course he would do this. He always has to make everything about him." She was fuming.

    "It's about me. And my birthday, which is tomorrow," I said quickly, accusing her of forgetting.

   "I know that," she said. "It's not like I didn't know that."

    "Okay," I said, but she was already gone, spinning around, cursing about my dad under her breath.