Hiding in Closets and Lofts - 7. Chapter 7

“Who are we picking up first?” Dillon asked. He was somewhat nervous about this.

“Your date,” Mark answered, making a sharp turn down a street. So far, they hadn’t left their neighborhood.

“Can I at least know her name at this point? So I’m not all like, hey… you,” Dillon frowned.

“Allison,” Mark chuckled.

And Dillon still didn’t know who that was. Dillon plopped back into his seat and watched the twilight sky. It was only seven, and the sun was mostly hidden between houses and trees.

Mark pulled up along a curb and looked out the window. “Here we are,” he announced.

“Am I supposed to go and get her at the door?” Dillon asked. He hoped not.

“No, here she comes,” Mark said as the front door of the house opened.

A girl with long, dark hair stepped out. Thankfully, there was no father lurking in the background. Dillon tried to piece together if he could recognize her from English class or not. She was a bit taller than most girls, and wearing jeans and a short-sleeved pastel blouse. And even without make-up, or for what very little she wore, she was pretty.

Dillon opened the truck door and hopped out. He pulled the seat forward to open up into the back. “Uh, nice to meet you,” he grumbled awkwardly.

Allison stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you as well.”

Dillon stiffly put his hand in hers, wondering if a handshake was a little weird. She shook his hand firmly, meeting his eyes the whole time. Dillon cleared his throat and finally looked down at the sidewalk. Maybe she was a little bit intimidating, too. She had some intense blue eyes.

She climbed into the back, ducking her head from the roof and sliding over to behind Mark. Mark just grinned as Dillon got in, closing the door and pulling the seat back into place.

Dillon slid another look over at Allison, who’s eyes were fixed outside the truck as they drove to Vickie’s house. He could barely place her as being in his first period class. But it would only be this one date, and maybe she would be a good partner in class. She was quiet, so she had to be smart, right?

They stopped outside Vickie’s house, and Mark climbed out and went to the front door. He was gone for a few minutes, and Dillon tapped his fingers on his legs nervously, trying to come up with some sort of conversation.

“Where’d you move from?” It turned out to be Allison that broke the silence.

“Uh, Colorado,” Dillon answered. “My grandparents live out here, so…”

Allison nodded. “Yeah my family has been in the area for a while, same with Mark’s. We used to own some farmland outside town, but I think we sold it when I was a kid.”

“My grandparents live outside of town in their farmhouse, but I just moved into this neighborhood at the end of the summer… Mark lives pretty close by, too,” Dillon explained, watching as Mark headed back towards the truck with Vickie.

The conversation died off as Vickie climbed in, all loud giggles as she swept her eyes over the back seats. “Oh,” she gasped. “Uh…”

“Allison,” She stated and raised a dark eyebrow. “I was in your math class freshman year.”

“Right,” Vickie snapped her fingers. “And hi, Dillon.”

Dillon nodded quickly and sunk lower in his seat before remembering all his mother’s lectures about posture and straightening up again. Vickie chatted away in her front seat for the drive into Omaha. Dillon tried to tune it out, not really wanting to listen about cheerleader drama.

He glanced over at Allison, and met her eyes. She gave a half smile and a roll of the eyes after looking towards Vickie. Dillon couldn’t help but smile a little bit, too.

They got to the bowling alley, and Vickie went off about her flip flops and how she didn’t bring socks. Mark took her off to the vending machines that sold socks while Dillon paid for the shoes and lane. Vickie and Mark came over to get their shoes from the counter, and they all went to lane ten, in the middle of the building.

Dillon and Allison roamed the ball racks, looking at the different weights. Dillon picked up a twelve pound ball, and Allison grabbed a ten. Vickie took much longer to find an eight pound ball, while Mark grabbed a twelve pound one as well.

Allison put the names into the machine while Mark went and ordered food. Vickie huffed in her seat and squirmed, glaring down at her bowling shoes. “Red and yellow,” she complained. “They look so bad.”

“Because if they were cute shoes, people would steal them,” Allison grumbled dryly from the tiny keyboard as she put in the last name.

Vickie huffed again and Dillon bit back another laugh. Mark came back right as the game started up, with Vickie going first.

Allison planted herself in a seat next to Dillon, and watched Vickie with an amused look. “We’ll see how this goes,” she pointed out as Vickie shuffled her way up to the lane.

To her credit, the ball didn’t go in the gutter, but had lost too much momentum by the time it reached the pins and only knocked down two. The second time around she got three down, before everything reset for Mark’s turn.

Mark grinned over at Dillon. “I bet I beat you,” he challenged again.

Dillon snorted and folded his arms over his chest as Mark picked up his bowling ball. He sent it flying down the lane in a fluid movement, getting down eight of the ten pins. He cleared those out the second time though, earning himself a clean spare. He met Mark’s eyes as he walked back and sat next to Allison.

Dillon went next, getting seven and then three and matching Mark’s spare. Allison took up her ball next, having put herself in as last. She stopped at the lane for a moment, focusing, before bowling a strike, on the first try.

Dillon and Mark exchanged a look as Allison walked back and the lane reset. She looked over at Mark, and then Dillon, and smirked. “I beat you both,” Allison pointed out.

“We just started,” Mark protested. “We’re warming up!”

“Uh-huh,” Allison flicked her hair off her shoulder playfully. She sat next to Dillon and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nice,” Dillon commented roughly.

Vickie took her turn with more vengeance, and only ended up doing worse. The first game was slow but steady, with Mark and Dillon earning more spares than strikes while Allison got a strike nearly every time. Mark and Dillon gave up on their competition, because it wasn’t fun if a third person was beating them both.

The second game they managed to do better. Their arms had warmed up, and Dillon’s second game was always his best. They got closer to Allison’s score, but they still didn’t beat her. The food arrived, and Vickie elected herself to sit out the last game. She picked at the fries while Mark and Dillon tried to eat slowly in front of their dates.

Dillon had already had dinner before coming here, but he was still hungry.

Allison took over Vickie’s turn, and beat Mark and Dillon again in the third game.

“That wasn’t fair,” Mark complained. “You didn’t say you were so good at bowling.”

“Family thing,” Allison shrugged her shoulders. “Parents and grandparents were in leagues.”

“Same here, but still,” Dillon groaned. “The second game, you got all strikes except three.”

Allison just grinned and put her hands proudly on her hips. “Well come on, you guys were playing yourselves up, I just had to knock you down a few pegs.”

Dillon rolled his eyes, taking his shoes up to the return counter. They all turned their shoes in, and Dillon tried to ignore Vickie’s now sour mood.

They spent the next part of the evening driving around Omaha with the windows of Mark’s truck down, admiring the buildings and lights. By ten, Mark started the drive back to Gretna. He dropped off Vickie first, much to Allison and Dillon’s relief.

“Why is he dating her?” Allison asked in the dark of the backseats.

“She asked him out at a party before school.” Dillon shrugged. “Other than that, not sure. I don’t really like her.”

“Same,” Allison admitted, shaking her head.

Mark came back out to the truck and stopped at Allison’s house. Dillon got out with her, and walked her up to the door. “Your dad isn’t going to come at me with a shot gun or anything, right?” He asked, jokingly.

“No,” Allison laughed. “We’re not that bad out here in Nebraska.”

Dillon chuckled, standing around and fidgeting at Allison’s door. She stepped in closer and only had to tilt up a little bit to place a chaste kiss on Dillon’s cheek. “Well, I’ll see you Monday at school?” She asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Dillon replied.

“But you can text me before then,” Allison added, smiling briefly, and ducking inside her house.

Dillon cleared his throat and walked back to the truck idling on the curb. He climbed into the passenger seat, trying to ignore the look Mark was giving him.

“I saw that,” Mark teased.

“Shut up,” Dillon hissed, smacking Mark in the arm.

“She likes you,” Mark went on. “I told you you’d like her.”

“Seriously,” Dillon groaned, feeling a bit embarrassed. “I’ll hit you again.”

Mark laughed and put his truck into drive. “Want to hang out some more, or call it a night?”

“I don’t think my mom would like me bringing someone home to hang out at ten-thirty… she’d rather you be gone by that time,” Dillon mumbled. “She’s not a night person.”

“That’s fine.” Mark turned down a different street, not to either of their houses. “My parent’s have some property down this way.”

Dillon sat up in his seat, a bit more interested. They stayed in the neighborhood, but Mark parked in a small gravel lot of a tiny, old church. Mark climbed out of the truck, and Dillon followed.

“Your parents own this?” Dillon asked, looking up at the church. Most of the windows were boarded up, with some stain glass peeking out from under the boards. The church was white, but that was all Dillon could make out in the dark with street lights.

“Yeah,” Mark said as he huddled in front of a combination lock on the front doors. “It hasn’t been used as a church in forever though. They use it as storage. A lot of random crap in here,” he explained as he pulled the lock off and opened the doors. “Come on.” He waved Dillon in.

Dillon followed, surprised at the cluttered inside. There weren’t any pews, but there was an organ buried among piles of other furniture.

“Upstairs,” Mark turned a corner and went up a narrow set of stairs.

Dillon felt crammed going up them, but arrived on a small balcony that looked over the rest of the inside. It was cleaner up there, and more organized.

“I hang out here sometimes,” Mark explained, sitting down on a small mattress. “When I don’t feel like dealing with my parents.”

“It’s a cool place,” Dillon commented and sat on the mattress. “So why are you going out with Vickie, anyways?” He asked, going back to what Allison had brought up in the truck.

Mark shrugged and pulled his knees up under his chin. “I haven’t dated anyone in a while, and people are up on me about it.”

“Why?” Dillon pressed.

“I don’t know, people just think I need a girlfriend, apparently,” Mark scoffed. “She’s not the best, but she’ll get them off my back for a while. I think I should have gone out with Allison instead though.” Mark smirked. “Kidding.”

Dillon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, she’s pretty cool. I wouldn’t mind going out with her again.”

“Good.” Mark smiled widely.

The conversation fell off after that, and Dillon’s eyes started to feel heavy. He’d been up since six, and it was sometime after eleven, he had to figure. “I should go,” he let out with a yawn.

“I can drive you home,” Mark said, jumping up and going for the stairs.

Dillon followed and waited as Mark locked the church back up. He drove Dillon home and dropped him off outside.

“Have a good night,” Dillon waved, fighting back another yawn.

“You too.” Mark smiled as Dillon closed the truck door.