Disclaimer: Well guess what! Last night I bought "Crossing Jordan," so I now own it! (end sarcasm) You know the drill...
A/N: I can't believe the kind of reception this story is getting. Usually, stories like this would get the torch-and-pitchfork reception, but I've been getting nothing but good reviews. Knew passing around the $20s would help! {Laughs} Anyways, thanks to Mrs. Rhett Butler and Jacinda for reviewing. Your patronage is appreciated.
(Side note to Mrs. Rhett Butler: Grief tends to bring people together, and that's what happened in the case of this story. That's why I figured to pair Amanda with Peter: the one other person who would understand how she's feeling and know how to deal with it. And about the other thing: I had to deal with that too. Two older relatives of mine that I was very, very close to passed away when I was 14 (which is where Nana Ruth and Uncle Andrew came from), and I had some problems dealing with it. I did what many writers do: drew upon my own experiences. Keep on reading, it'll get more interesting, I promise! And thank you again for reviewing! {My last older man was 4 years older than me, btw, and I'm going on 17. And I actually dated him, but that was 2 years ago. Do the math!})
(Side note to Jacinda: Thanks! Of course I'm going to write more. The story wouldn't make sense if I ended it there! All my plans would go down the drain! {Laughs} Thank you for reviewing; seriously, I really appreciate it.)
Chapter Seven: Moving In
"Incoming!" Amanda shouted as she came through the door of her new room with a large box of clothes. Woody moved out of the way to avoid being hit by the box. Upon their return to Boston the previous day, Amanda's friends had moved her mattress and furniture to her room at her father's apartment and set everything up. Amanda had begun moving her clothes and things in the next day, and was finally reaching the end of the load.
"How many more boxes?" Woody asked.
"Just one more, and it's mostly random posters and stuff," Amanda said, putting the box-which held her comforter and pillows-down and putting the contents on her bed.
"Need any help with it?"
"No thanks, I think I can manage it," Amanda said. Her phone rang just then, and Woody walked out of the room to give her a bit of privacy. Amanda looked at the number and recognized it immediately. She answered the phone while shutting her bedroom door.
"Hey."
"Hey. When'd you get back?"
"Last night. My stuff was already moved into Dad's place, so I'm staying there."
"So you decided to move in?"
"Yeah. I mean, I didn't have much of a choice. Got no relatives in Boston, and my friends' parents would rather shoot themselves than let ANOTHER teenager into the house."
Peter laughed. "Well, at least you have a place to stay." Suddenly, he heard a crash in the background, and Amanda saying "Damn it!" quite loudly.
"Is everything ok over there?"
"Yeah, it's cool," Amanda said, trying to keep a hold of the phone with one hand and the box-now refilled after a bit of a spill-with the posters in it with her other hand. "I just dropped the box I was carrying."
"Anything break?"
"Nope. Just a box of old movie posters and stuff anyways."
"What kind of movie posters?"
"This is gonna sound really weird, but it's a collection of mine. I've got 'St. Elmo's Fire,' 'The Breakfast Club,' 'The Outsiders,' 'Pretty in Pink,' and all the Universal Monster movies-you know, Frankenstein, Dracula, that kind of thing. Oh, and some Stephen King posters."
"Stephen King, eh?" Peter asked, surprised. "Which ones?"
"Whoa, hold on there," Amanda said with a laugh as she hung the posters on her wall. "I'm only halfway through the monster posters!" She hung up her Frankenstein poster, and reached into the box, naming the framed posters as she pulled them out of the box and hung them on the wall. "Ok, here we go! We have 'Carrie,' 'The Shining,' 'Creepshow 1 AND 2,' 'Stand By Me,' 'Secret Window,' and-ew ugh ugh ugh. I thought I got rid of this one."
"Which one would that be?"
"Urgh. 'Sleepwalkers.' I HATED that movie. Way too gross of a storyline for me," said Amanda, as she hung the aforementioned poster up in between 'The Bride of Frankenstein' and 'Stand By Me'. "I don't know why I still have this. I guess my mom snuck it back in with my stuff the last time I cleaned my room."
"I would ask when that was, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I don't want to know the answer."
"Ha ha, Peter. Very funny," said Amanda sarcastically. "I'll have you know that it was a year ago, and it wasn't that bad at all."
"Dare I ask?"
"Well, I do remember my mom saying something about getting it declared a national disaster area, but other than that...OK, so it was pretty bad, but that's beside the point!" Amanda was trying to sound angry, but she was laughing.
"Well, I have to go. Just wanted to check in with you, see how you're doing. Besides, I gotta get ready for work."
"Got the graveyard shift tonight?" asked Amanda
"Ha ha ha. But yeah, I do."
"So then, I guess I'll talk to you later. That is, if you need to talk."
"OK. Thanks, by the way. This really means a lot."
"I figured," Peter said with a grin. "Well, bye."
"Bye," said Amanda. She hung up and looked around her room, now completely decorated. "Welcome home Amanda," she said.
In another apartment, in another part of Boston, Peter hung up his phone. He thought about his conversation with Amanda as he got ready for work, and as he was leaving for work. He knew how she was feeling, and understood it too. "Damn," he swore. "Why'd she have to be Woody's kid?" Under normal circumstances, he would've already asked her out. But he knew these weren't normal circumstances by any means. "For one," he thought, "She's Woody's daughter, and he'd probably shoot any guy who got within five feet of her. And for another thing, she's just lost her mother. What kind of an asshole would ask someone out who's still dealing with that?"
He decided it would be better to wait. Because he knew that sometime, she'd be feeling better, and when that day came, he was going to be there. "Besides," Peter thought, "It's not like I'm 60."