I shoplifted once.
It was the first time I remember my parents letting me go out without either of them, just Glen to keep me safe. And I knew he would. Back then, even if I never said it, I trusted him with my life.
He always got more allowance than I, and he was always running off, leaving me to explore another part of the store where the more expensive candy was. I was always near the front. The farthest I ever made it through those aisles back then was the time I dropped my money and it rolled away from me, leaving me to chase it across the store to the middle section.
I can't remember what I was holding, but my hands were getting full so I put some of the candy I was going to buy in my pocket until I sorted myself out and I must have forgotten about it because I bought something totally different. It wasn't until I got home and took off my coat that I noticed the tube of Refreshers in my pocket.
I was a criminal.
I told my mother immediately and asked her to take me back to the store to give them back, thinking I'd be on camera and they'd track me down. She just smiled at me and told me to eat them.
Candy never tasted so good.
Ashley and I haven't directly spoken to each other since yesterday, but I feel that's been a good thing. I'm still high from it. She ran into the bathroom this morning and slammed the door shut yelling that I better not look through the walls.
She's getting a little ahead of herself.
I watched on with amusement as I watched her attempting to act nonchalant at dinner last night when I was sitting at the table. All I was missing was a plate and some food. Her face was quite the picture when the chair next to her moved out a little to allow my body room to sit. Her parents walking through with drinks halted any words that were about to leave her lips.
Shame.
I like to think of the look I'm sure she'd be giving me if she knew I was sitting next to her watching her shovel popcorn into her mouth. She eats like a pig, surprisingly. I wait until her mouth is full of Dr Pepper before I say: "Hi again."
My body moves backward as the liquid sprays from her lips, a smile playing on mine.
"For god's sake!" she shouts irately.
"Miss me?" I ask, picking up a piece of her popcorn.
She flicks it from between my thumb and forefinger and we both watch it fall to the floor. "I told you to leave. Don't make me tell you again."
"Actually, you told the wall to leave. And, I'm no architect but I think you'll need that to stay there for the house to stay upright."
Ashley sniffs her soda.
I frown briefly. "There's nothing in there."
The expression covering her face tells me she's irritated and I again wonder why she isn't scared. I meant it when I said I'd be hiding underneath my bed. Hiding underneath my bed with my laptop searching for new houses, that is. With a ring of salt around me.
She looks put-out as she slants her jaw to the left and exhales deeply. "You know, I don't remember performing a séance."
I don't pay much attention to her rude behaviour. "Do you want to hang out? I could maybe show you around."
"Stop hitting on me."
"I barely even know you, so why would I be hitting on you?"
"Because I'm the hottest thing you've ever seen."
I take the bowl of popcorn from her hands and rest it on my lap. "Nice self esteem you have there: describing yourself as a thing."
She snatches the bowl back as a frown creases her forehead. "Whatever. You're freaking me out, please just leave."
Underneath her slight hostility there's a layer of fear clearly visible which makes me feel terrible. "Okay." I nod slowly, biting my lip. "I'm sorry if I scared you," I add on as I stand up.
Ashley is engrossed in her popcorn and doesn't look up when I open the door and leave the room. I assume she thinks she's gotten rid of me, but she definitely hasn't. I'm giving her time to allow everything to sink in and one nights sleep, unfortunately, isn't going to do that. I'll go back later. I don't like being out too late at night when I'm alone, which strange because sometimes I like walking at three o'clock in the morning. I just don't like being out any later than midnight for some reason unless I've been home first.
I used to think girls were so silly to be out alone in the middle of the night, that anybody could attack you, that anything could happen to you, but then I started to think that if people see you aren't afraid to be out alone at night then they will probably leave you alone.
It's all about appearances and the look in somebody's eyes. If you smile at people and don't go out of your way to make somebody unhappy you're a target, but if you don't smile and you change the look in your eyes people do a double take and over-look you. Not even daring.
I saw some kids having a water-fight on their front lawn a few weeks ago. I wouldn't dare to have one of those in this weather unless I wanted to contract pneumonia. Only in the summer. Every summer. Not that I would have a water-fight at my age. At seventeen -- or eighteen, if you include the past year, I like to think I have long passed that stage. The last time I had one was when I was ten or eleven. Erin came over and at first it was just us, until the annoying boys from down the street launched a water bomb at me. Then, it was war.
The final straw was when one of them threw a cup of water directly in Erin's face. I was fuming. I had a really cheap water gun -- one of Glen's old ones, and I was trying to spray him in the eyes but he kept moving and got me in the face with water, too.
I still remember how, moments later, Glen came rushing out of the house with a bucket of ice-cold water and threw it over the jackasses.
My brother is pretty great. Well, sometimes. You know how big brothers can be. Like the time he punched me in one of my just-forming breasts. I scratched one of his cd's for that. After I went to my room and let the tears form and fill my eyes, of course. I mean, it really did hurt.
He was the first person I came out to. The only person, actually. We were in the living room and my parents were out when he was imitating a feminine boy from the next street, making me laugh because he sounded nothing like him. I told Glen he was gay and he said he was as gay as I was.
I don't think he meant it quite like that.
"I am," quietly left my lips with my eyes set firmly on his face.
He took it much better than I imagined he would. At first he didn't believe me, but it soon became apparent that I wasn't joking. The next day he made me skip school to go and check girls out, compare our personal taste and argue over which sibling they'd rather date. I was always the favourite. I showered regularly for one thing.
I don't think he ever knew what that day meant to me.
Ashley's parents will probably be home by now. Perfect time for a reappearance, I'd say. I leave the swing I've been sitting on for the past couple of hours and kick an empty soda can near to my feet.
I didn't go far and it only takes me ten minutes to get home. Every house looks like it always does. Every house except my own.
Her parents' car isn't in the driveway and it's a little strange because they've never been this late before. There's probably bad traffic.
I feel like using the back door today and make my way to the side of the house, walking around to the back. I caught Glen smoking pot out here once. He was as high as a kite. I didn't tell my parents because for the most part, Glen was good to me, so I was good to him. Besides, it was nice having something to hold over his head as blackmail. Sibling code, and all.
I've seen the back-door open more times than I could ever count, but never with one of the dining room chairs over-turned, too. I don't even think of running away. I quickly grab the nearest large object to hand and hurry to where I can hear a struggle.
A man I have never seen is standing over Ashley with his fingers wrapped around her throat, her fingernails digging into the skin of his strong hand. He shouts a word to her that I don't care to repeat and that's all I hear before I rush over to him, striking him over the head with the object I grabbed on my way in.
It happens to be a frying pan. I don't care that it's cliché, his fingers are no longer wrapped around her neck and his body is no longer hovering over hers. That's all that matters.
Ashley scrambles away from her attacker and moves behind me. She's hiding behind a frying pan to anybody else's eyes. I don't like the way she's painfully gasping for breath but I like the way nameless man is holding the back of his head. He needs to get out of my house. Now.
He takes one look at the pan and I think for a brief second that his eyes are going to pop out.
I drop the pan and walk over to him, shouting "get out!" directly into his ear.
He got the message when he saw nothing but a frying pan in mid-air. No, I don't think we'll be seeing him anytime soon. Not if he knows what's good for him.
"Are you okay?" I ask Ashley as soon as he's gone. I have a habit of saying stupid things to her, I think. Who asks a person that when they come home to find them being attacked?
She asks me if the doors are locked and I hurry to make sure both doors are locked before making my way back to the living room. "They're locked," I assure her. "I checked twice," I add on hastily.
Ashley nods and I see her jaw set as she attempts not to cry. Her eyes squeeze shut a second after her breath hitches and I frown, pondering on whether or not I should move forward and embrace her, or if it would just make matters worse.
"Don't cry," I tell her gently, instead.
She doesn't look as if she heard me so I kneel down next to her, brushing her hair away from in front of her face. "It's okay," I say softly. I can't touch her, not directly. I can only touch her hair and I can almost touch her skin. It feels like I have pins and needles when my hands hover before her skin. It's uncomfortable. I don't like it. "Do you want some water?" I ask.
Her head shakes the negative and I reach for the tissues on the coffee table, pulling one out for her. Ashley doesn't open her eyes and I brush the tissue along her cheek until she reaches up and takes it from me. "Can you lift your head up a little more? I need to look at your neck."
"I'm fine," she attempts to tell me, her voice hoarse.
Her trembling body tells me otherwise.
Standing up, I make my way to the kitchen and fill a glass full of water. She said she didn't want one, but I don't think she's thinking too clearly right now. I stop to pick up the up-turned chair, placing it back to its rightful place.
My pace is hurried as I make my way back to her and kneel next to her again. "Drink this."
Surprisingly, Ashley accepts the glass from me and takes a sip without another word of protest. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" I ask, concerned. She shakes her head again but somehow I don't believe her. "Do you want me to hand you the phone so you can call your parents?"
"My parents won't find out about this," she tells me as firmly as she can manage.
"You can't just -"
"I can," she interrupts. "You have no say in this."
"This is my house. I have every say in this."
"Good luck trying to tell them, Casper."
Her comment quickly shuts me up. Ashley is right. Who am I kidding? If she doesn't want them to know, it isn't as if I can exactly tap them on the shoulder or scream in their face.
She looks around the room quizzically. "Are you still there?"
I wonder if it's wishful hearing, or if she genuinely sounds worried I've left. I leave her to stew and count slowly to five, only getting to three before skipping four and five. "I'm here."
Headlights make shadows on the cream walls and Ashley gets to her feet a little unsteadily, causing me to hold out an arm for her in case she falls. It's a pointless gesture. Why would she reach for something she can't see?
"I don't want to be in here when they come in," she says.
"You can't hide this from them."
"I can do what I want. Just leave it, okay? Please."
I nod and add on "okay" when I remember that she can't see me.
Ashley makes her way to the stairs with me following behind. I don't know why I'm following her, nothing is going to happen on the way up here. Upon hearing the back door open, she stops, turning her head to listen.
"What?" I whisper.
She turns her body to rush back downstairs. "The chair."
"I took care of it," I assure her.
"Okay," she answers softly, almost looking confused.
Once we reach the top of the stairs, I sit down outside my bedroom and hear the door click softly, signalling its closure.
Five minutes later she re-emerges in her usual bed attire: boxers and a tank top, before walking into the bathroom.
I tell myself I'm not smiling like an idiot when she re-enters her bedroom and leaves the door open a little. I wait a few minutes until I get up and walk inside. I close the door slowly, giving her the chance to tell me to get out and smile inwardly when I hear nothing of the sort.
Ashley doesn't say a word when I lie down on the bed next to her, mimicking her position of staring up at the ceiling. I don't think she wants to be alone tonight.
That's a good thing because I don't, either.