I made this one shorter, like I'd promised. Is that good? I hope it's more interesting.
I hate shopping. I've learned that. If we're going to be walking for a while, I can deal with that, as long as we're walking for a reason. But shopping is boring. You just walk around and try out different whatever-it-is-you're-looking-fors and stand in long lines with other bored people.
Ugh. Worse yet, we were shopping for beds, so there weren't even any girl's giggles I could listen to, my equivalent of girl watching.
Time passed, I nearly fell asleep, and we finally found a bed.
The rest of the day passed the same as yesterday. We had a really big turkey for dinner, one that I polished completely off, with little leftovers to spare. I wondered if they'd ever get used to that.
My dad seemed really depressed that afternoon. I had no clue why. He said it was a long day at work, but I didn't think it was that. Jeb – I wince at the name – had taught us to notice every little detail, and to catch lies. I was pretty sure that my dad was lying. Dad and Mom kept pausing at awkward moments around me, as if they were silently talking to each other, maybe mouthing words. It was always during a discussion when we were talking about his work or money. Money issues, I guessed.
Night came. I climbed into the guest room bed – the crib still hadn't been cleaned out of my room. After about two minutes after I finally got settled into bed I got up to go to the bathroom. I walked quietly down the hall, passing the whispering voices in the main bedroom. I caught the words "Did you get any of the jobs?" and paused to listen.
"No," Dad sighed quietly. He groaned. "Everything is going wrong."
"How can you say that?" she asked. "James is finally back. We've been waiting fourteen years for that. That alone makes everything better." I smiled.
"But that's just it!" he groaned. I frowned. "He came back now, when everything's going wrong. I lose my job and then two days later, James comes back. Right when we need every precious cent the most." So that was it. He'd lost his job.
"We have the money from going on TV–"
"That? That's not going to do anything! Sure, it's some money, but you've already spent half of it." Money. Geez, it seemed like the world was run by it.
"Look," she began, "you have more interviews tomorrow. You're bound to get one. And listen. Our prayers have been answered. Every night for the past fourteen years, I've asked for him to come back, I've asked for him to not be dead." Which I barely wasn't. "And here he is. You should be happy about that. Stop worrying. It'll come out okay. Now go to sleep."
The sheets shuffled around and then there was no noise.
So. I come to a family with no money. Well. That sucked.
-
The next day started the same as yesterday, and I didn't mention what I'd heard the night before. Dad was out doing job interviews, and my mom was now cleaning out my bedroom, which I actually helped with this time.
Later that day, I went outside and laid in the grass again, listening to the birds, and once again imaging their huge graceful wings…
Okay, that's not why I was out there. I was waiting for that girl to come out. I'll admit it. Give me a break, I'm a guy.
After about an hour of waiting, I finally heard her walking down the sidewalk to her house.
"Hi," I said loudly, trying to get her attention.
She stopped and then came over to me. "Hi."
"Where've you been?" I asked. "You weren't outside for a while, and you just came down the sidewalk."
She snorted. "It's called school, Iggy. What, you've never heard of it?"
My heart stopped for a second at the bare mention of the word.
"S…school?" I asked as memory after memory flooded back to me, and I shook my head, trying vainly to push them away.
"Yeah, y'know, that place where evil teachers force you to do grueling work, and you have no say in it, you just have to listen to the lunatics, and do whatever they say, no matter how humiliating."
Oh god, she had absolutely no idea.
"School's a terrible place," I quietly agreed.
"How come you weren't there?" she asked.
I sighed. "Getting settled in first, I guess."
She snorted. "You'll just love our school. I hope you don't get Mrs. Ketcher. I hated that woman when I had her. Evil kid-torturer."
Torture. Poor, naïve girl had no clue what that was like. Memories bombarded me and my throat closed up, my spine tensing. That place… the school…
"The school…what a place…" I muttered.
"Yes, the school," she mocked. "The one and only."
I shook my head. "Never mind. You don't know." I turned to leave. I really didn't need this conversation. I had been ready to talk to her, even a little excited about it, but this wasn't what I bargained for. School. I shuddered. Suddenly the idea of the school became worse, now that the rest of the flock wasn't here to share the fear with me.
Her hand brushed my arm, sending a brilliant thrill through me. "Don't go. I like talking to you."
I stepped back to her. "Really?"
She pressed her soft hand a little harder to my arm and ran it all the way to the end of my t-shirt and back again, sending all of the hairs on my arm on end. "Yeah," she murmured.
My throat dried out. I put my other hand on her arm that touched me. I knew she was hot but…who was she?
"What do you look like?" I asked.
I felt her jump a little.
"Uh…look…like?"
"Yeah, you know, color hair, skin ton, things like that."
She paused for a second. "Well…I have light skin. And, uh, reddish-brown hair with…blonde highlights. I'm five four. Big brown eyes." I smiled a little. She had to add the 'big'. "A couple freckles. Someone told me once that I have nice legs." Sweet!
"And… what are you wearing?" I asked. I needed to completely picture her perfectly, absolutely, as good as if I could see her standing in front of me.
"Um," she stuttered, "a short denim skirt with a black and white belt. A white tank top. White flip flops." She paused for a second, then quickly said, "Y'know I think I have a few chores to do." She pulled away. "Later, Iggy!" she called behind her.
I blinked. What was that about?
Damn. Forgot to ask her name.