For Everything a Reason
Chapter 5: SLEEP NOW IN THE FIRE
It is pitch black outside by the time I find myself staring at the front door. I reach out and gently twist the golden door knob. Much to my delight and horror it opens soundlessly. I'm glad that I don't have to wake anyone up to let me in, but I'm worried as to why they thought it would be a good idea to leave the door unlocked. I walk inside, shutting and locking the door behind me. The living room is big to say the least. The walls are painted crème beige and the floors are an off white. A giant dark brown couch sits directly in front of a huge flat screen television. The granite fireplace is alive with flickering tongues of flame.
The living room opens up into a top of the line kitchen. Everything is stainless steel and the counter tops are dark granite. It is decorated in a way that reminds me of Italy. The walls are painted an olive green, there is a small wine holder adorned with acrylic purple grapes, a round glass table sits comfortably by the entrance, and a grand island pierces the center. It's not the beauty of the kitchen that makes me stop and stare. It's the fact that Holden is sprawled out on top of the island like he's a beached whale. "Holden!" I yell at him, "what are you doing?" Holden looks up immediately; his sea-green eyes wide in surprise. "I didn't hear you come in. Where have you been?" he asks in genuine curiosity. "Just exploring. I lost track of time," I say. Technically it's the truth. "Find anything interesting?" he persists. I don't want to lie to him, but telling him about Tate just feels weird. Yeah I met this guy in an abandoned log cabin in the middle of the woods. Ya know no big deal, happens all the time. Story of my life.
"Maybe. What were you doing lying on the island?" I change the subject.
"Well lying on a kitchen island is something I have never done before,"
I blink in surprise. "You did it simply because it was something you had never done before?"
"That is exactly why,"
"And how was it?"
"Exhilarating,"
I grab an orange from the fruit bowl sitting on top of the table and throw it at him. Holden catches it and laughs. "What did you do that for?" he examines the orange for any imperfections. "Well, it was something that I had never done before," I smile. "Was it exhilarating?" he asks with a straight face. "More like satisfying," I admit with a laugh.
After Holden and I both had the experience of trying something new we parted our ways in search of our rooms. Mine was the second door on the right. It had a large king sized bed covered in a cream lace duvet, a dark wood desk in the corner, a vanity and a dresser on the opposite side, and a TV, much like the one in the living room, directly in front of the bed. I walk over to the dresser and realize that someone had already unpacked for me. I would have to thank either my mom or Paisley in the morning.
I climb into the bed; anxious to become enveloped in the soft sheets. I pull the comforter around my neck and begin to think of today's events. The only thing that sticks out in my mind is that log cabin and, of course, Tate. I wonder who built it, and why it was so empty. I wonder who exactly Tate is, and what he was doing in the woods so late at night. He had to be from around here; he had the gray eyes that were the trade mark of District 12. I'm probably going to see him again during my stay. I wonder if he and Holden will get along. I hope that they would because Holden can be quite the asshole. Paisley will instantly be all over him, I just know it. She can't really control herself around good-looking guys. It's a wonder that she's never been attracted to Holden. It's probably because they've known each other since they were little. The same reason Holden and I aren't attracted to each other. I think about things like these until the wave of sleep creeps up on me and takes me under.
It's hot in the arena. Really hot. I'm perched safely in a tree. From here I can see Holden swimming obliviously in a pond with a trident gripped tight in his left hand. I don't bother reprimanding him for such careless behavior because I figure he knows what he's doing. I am, however, worried about Paisley. She went off to check the traps half an hour ago and hasn't returned. I fidget with the dagger in my hand; probably not the brightest idea. I accidently cut my palm. A steady little stream of red begins to trickle down my wrist, but I don't feel pain. I don't feel anything. "Aspen," a voice whispers from below me. I nearly fall out of the tree. My worries are soon erased when I realize it's Paisley looking up at me, her brown eyes showing no alarm.
"Come down here," she whispers. I slide out of my safe haven and waltz over to Paisley. She holds out an unlucky dead squirrel for me to inspect. Suddenly it gets even hotter in the arena and Paisley gasps. "That boy is on fire!" She yells. I whip around to see that the boy is Tate and he is indeed on fire. A high pitched shriek escapes my lips. Holden emerges from some large bushes soaking wet and laughs in amusement. "Would you look at that? A boy on fire," he puts emphasis on the word boy. His casual reaction makes me want to slap him, but then I realize Tate doesn't look to be in pain at all. "You know what this means?" Tate calls to me. "That you've seem to set yourself on fire without knowing?" I respond. "Oh, Aspen," he laughs whilst shaking his head, "May the odds be ever in your favor."
My eyes snap open. The clock says its 10:32 A.M. and I hear soft rain pelting the window. I don't feel like trying to go back to sleep. I don't feel like leaving the comfort of the bed quite yet either, so I just lay there entangled in the sheets. "But Holden, you promised we'd go into town today!" I hear Paisley whine out in the hallway. "Paisley," Holden says impatiently, "I know you're not a meteorologist, but it doesn't take a professional to look out the window and realize that precipitation is falling rather violently from the sky. We'll go tomorrow when it's not raining." "Fine," Paisley says dramatically.
Their voices are soon replaced with the angry steps of Paisley and the annoyed steps of Holden. Sometimes I wonder how they've put up with each other for so long. I stretch by arching my back and make that weird noise one makes when stretching out. The rain outside becomes louder and more rhythmic. Today sounds like a good day to lie around and do nothing, so that is precisely what I do.
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