"What?" I asked.
"I'm your mother", the woman replied.
"My mom's dead", I mumbled.
"No, i did not. I told your father to tell you that. I just had to do so,ething really important, baby."
"Don't call me that", I spat. Greg grabbed my hand. 'Who is it', he mouthed.
'Aparently my mom', I mouthed back.
"Kamdyn, is your father there?" the woman asked.
"No", I stated matter-of-factly. "What's your name anyway?"
"Amanda Stokes", she told me. "Who's with you?"
"My dad's coworker, Greg."
"Can I talk to him?" Amanda asked. I handed Greg the phone.
"Amanda?" Greg asked after a minute. He walked outside, tossing his iPod on my lap before he left. I turned on the iPod. Greg made a playlist for me. I put it on shuffle and sat there.
Greg returned after a minute. "That was your mom", he stated. "She really was your mom. she's coming for Warrick's funeral. She called to ask how you were dealing with his death."
"Oh", I mumbled. "I feel like shit now."
Greg chuckled. He ruffled my hair. "Whad'dya say I take you to go get some clothes from your house and we can go hang out for a little bit?"
"Sure", I replied.
Greg took me home. I changed into a pair of black skinny jeans, a pair of Green Day 'Dookie' coverse, and a tee-shirt with the word 'stupid' written on the front with an arrow pointing up. I grabbed my electric guitar, my mini-amp, my bass guitar, the mini-amp for that, and my backup electric guitar.
Greg walked in the door. "Dad just called to tell me to tell you to pack at least a week of clothes", he stated.
"Why?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Can I help?" he asked. He took everything from my hands and carried it to the car. He came back and grabbed the amps. "Go pack, K."
I went up and grabbed my clothes, stuffed it in my spare guitar case and ran downstairs. I grabbed my deoderant (I probably didn't spell that right), hairbrush, hairgel, tooth brush, toothpaste, and my iPod. I stuffed them in my case with my clothes. I hurried outside.
"Everything?" Greg asked.
"Yeah", I replied.
"What do you wanna do?" he asked, driving down the street.
"Go to your house and jam", I replied.
Greg drove back to his house. We got everything out of the car. I grabbed my blue electric guitar (I call that guitar 'Danger') and my amp, plugged everything up, and just played random shit.
Greg set up my bass (which I call 'Dirnt') and played along with me. We played a few Green Day songs, a Marilyn MAnson songs, and a Blink 182 song. We laughed if we accidently messed up. Greg was like my older brother. I loved him like my older brother. And us doing this really took my mind off of Warrick.