Unintentional Eavesdropping

Monday 1st September.

Sometimes known as the first day of Hogwarts. Other times known as the two hundred and forty-fourth day of the year (two hundred and forty-fifth on leap years, if we're being technical.) Occasionally recognised as Journalist Day in China. Independence Day in Uzbekistan. Random Acts of Kindness Day in New Zealand.

And this year also known as Doomsday - previously documented as Cameron Morgan's First Day at Roseville High.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," I moan. I bang the alarm on my dresser, punching it in a vain attempt to get it to cease its incessant ringing, but it won't stop and I'm faced with the task of actually having to open my eyes to switch it off.

Once I finally get it to stop, I swing my legs out of bed and stumble blearily towards the window, basking in the warm sunlight filtering in through the half-drawn, recently-fixed curtains for a few moments. A relieved sigh escapes me as I see that the curtains on the window opposite are fully drawn and shut, meaning I won't have any unwanted encounters this morning.

Gathering up my towel, a pair of skinny jeans and my favourite t-shirt, I hurry to the bathroom and get showered in record time; seems like my nerves are just serving to speed me up. My hair is somehow miraculously void of the usual amount of tangles, so I deem it safe enough to leave my hair down, running a quick brush through it to smooth it. I grab an apple from the kitchen on the way out, hastily unlocking the door and stepping out into the warm sun. The weather seems to be getting marginally cooler, and it isn't as stiflingly hot as it was when I first arrived, thank goodness. I might even be able to go out with my paints and easel without worrying about dying of heatstroke.

I go out and wait on my porch, trying not to look totally stupid as I check my watch. Adam offered to drive me to school, asking me after my shift ended on Friday. He was full of endearing blushes and stutters, and it was plain to see that he was nervous – what about, I don't know. I'm not that intimidating. I obviously agreed – who would choose the bus over a comfortable car ride? But I realise a little late that waiting out on the front porch isn't best if you don't want to look desperate, and boy do I look desperate right now, clutching my bag to my side, standing there like a tree.

Just as I'm turning to go back inside so I can wait for Adam within the safety of my home and not appear desperate, I hear a door being yanked open next door, followed by an angry shout. The sound of the morning news blares out of the open door, turned up to what must be full volume in an effort to mask the shouting. It would work if I was inside and our doors were closed, but unfortunately, I'm stood outside in close proximity to their house, and I can hear every painful word. I have no idea how to disappear without them hearing my door opening and closing, so instead, I edge away and press myself to the wall, trying to remove myself from view and simultaneously trying to get my ears to stop working so I don't have to hear them.

"You never listen to me. I'm tired of it! You, him, both of you – you want me to do something I'd never do. Least of all with him. Why can't you understand that?"

"Zach, why do you hate him so much? He's your father."

"He is not," he spits, "I don't have a father anymore." He marches outside, hefting his bag onto his shoulders and shaking his head. "You know what, mom, forget it. I'm going. We're not talking about this right now."

"Please, Zach. Zach – !"

The door slams shut and the sound of the woman's sudden pleading is cut off abruptly. I stand there, shocked, wondering what I just intruded upon. He sounded so angry, but the tangible threads of sadness were still there, lacing through his every word. I feel guilty, wishing I didn't hear, but feeling horribly curious all the same. What exactly is it that he doesn't want? I can just see him paused on his porch, running a hand down his face in anger or sadness, I can't tell. He steps off the porch and I see him turn to stroll down the drive to his car, parked on the side of the road. He seems to be back to normal, sunglasses on, dark jeans slung a tad too low and signature white t-shirt straining around his muscles as he adjusts his bag straps. I tear my eyes away from him, heat creeping up my neck as I remember the first time I saw him in decidedly less clothing.

My heart suddenly leaps into my throat as I realise he's going to see me when he gets into his car, and my heart threatens to flop out onto the porch – I need to hide. What will he do if he realises I've been eavesdropping? Unintentionally, mind you, but I doubt it will make a difference to him – if he isn't angry, it's definitely going to be supremely awkward.

I hurriedly try to get the key in the lock to escape inside without him noticing me, but just because my hair was okay today doesn't mean everything else will be. As I try to insert the key, it hits the lock at an awkward angle and slips from my grasp. I make a mad grab for it, but it brushes my fingertips and continues to fall, as if in slow motion. I watch, almost in a horrified trance, as the heavy metal lands on the stone steps. A huge clatter tears through the quiet of the morning, and I freeze, hoping, madly praying that maybe, just maybe, he didn't hear. But the sudden stopping of his footsteps indicates that he heard quite well, and visions of my impending doom flit across my mind. He definitely doesn't seem like he's in the kind of mood to tolerate (accidental) eavesdroppers, no matter how nice he was to me back in the days of teriyaki steak.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I face my fears and spin around to face him, waiting for the inevitable angry remark to erupt from his lips and come my way; I'm already thinking of excuses. However, I'm surprised to see that he isn't even looking at me – I don't think he even turned around. He continues strolling down to his car, completely ignoring my presence, and I can't tell whether I should be relieved or irritated. Unlocking his stupid red Maserati, he opens the door leisurely, turning around a second before getting in. He doesn't turn to face me, but he knows I'm there, and judging by the tense set of his shoulders, he suspects I heard what happened. But, instead of asking me about it, he says something entirely unexpected.

"See you at school," he calls. Quickly sliding into the driver's seat and pulling the door closed in one fluid movement, he revs the engine unnecessarily, once, twice, before reversing and zooming off down the road without a backwards glance. I'm left standing there in front of the door, bewildered and still feeling the remnants of unjustified guilt as I stare after him. It's not my fault he was arguing with his mother when I happened to be standing outside, within hearing distance… but I still feel bad that I heard. It wasn't my business. What shocks me most, however, isn't how he shouted at her or what he said, it's how his mother sounded when she pleaded for him to come back inside – worlds apart from the beautiful and lively woman at the diner, smiling and laughing.

The sound of another car interrupts my thoughts, and I step off the porch as it comes into view. It's a dusty red Chevrolet Camaro, trundling down the lane and rolling to a sputtering stop at the bottom of my drive. I can just make out a mop of golden hair through the tinted window, and a smile engulfs my face as I see Adam roll it down and wave at me. The awkwardness of the past five minutes with Zach is forgotten as I see his tanned, smiling face.

"Taxi service for Miss Cameron Morgan," he calls, tipping an imaginary hat. I hurry down to the car and grab the passenger door. It takes a second to get the door to open, and I have to yank on it to get it unstuck. Okay, I'm going to need both hands for this job.

"Hey, hold my bag for a second?" I ask him, and he holds his hand out through the window. But, instead of smoothly taking it, the strap gets caught in the side mirror, causing a heavy notebook to fall on my foot. I suck in a breath as it collides with my big toe and Adam jumps in his seat, straining to see what happened. He looks at me worryingly, a sheepish look on his face.

"Ah, sorry!" he says anxiously. "You okay?"

"Fine, fine," I wave him off. "Don't worry about me," I smile. I slide into the seat after picking up the book and give him a reassuring look. No need to tell him about the throbbing toe.

Spotting a familiar blonde in the back seat, I open my mouth to say hello, but she beats me to it and I see her shake her head despairingly at Adam before turning to me.

"Hi, Cammie."

"Hey," I smile warmly.

"I thought I'd let you have the front seat today, but don't expect it to be a common occurrence." She closes the book on her lap, carefully placing a bookmark to mark her page before peering at me over the rim of her aviators, slender eyebrows raised. "Adam needs someone to give him directions, even if we are just going to school."

"I'll make sure to remember that then, thank you," I chuckle. She smirks at me and leans forward to tap Adam on the shoulder, who is shooting daggers at her.

"Come on, taxi driver, we're going to be late," she snorts, and he gives her a disgruntled look as she flicks him on the shoulder. "Try not to injure anyone else on the way, alright?" she adds, laughing at his pink cheeks.

"Oh, be quiet," he mutters.

A/N Oooh, what was that? Haha, hope you liked it! This showed a little insight into Zach's slightly troubled home life and character. I know it feels so over-done, but hopefully I can make it work. Please tell me what you thought! I love you all and thank you so much for reading - you are truly the best readers ever :) And I'm so glad you all liked Michaela!

BooksLover2000: Haha, thank you! She is pretty chill :)

fanficlover4602: Wow, thank you!

Indigoandvioletskies: Aw, I'm so glad you like it and everyone in it! True, you are too fabulous! Haha yes, Adam is TOO CUTE xxx

lovewords: Your review was too niceeeeeee, thank you thank you! Super long, too ;) EEP I'm so glad you love Michaela! Banat will commence soon enough hahah. Aw, I'll miss you too, but we do have a pretty good communication strategy going on, don't ya think? :)

miaadventure: Thank you! London was lovely thanks :) and WOO quality over quantity slays.

TeenageGallagherGirlSpy: Aw, I know the feeling. And yay! Plus that's very true :)

OhNobody: Thank you! Yes, they are: everyone I'm thinking, except Josh because I've kinda replaced Josh with Adam - hope that's okay! Zammie, will be happening ;)

MajorFan: Thank you, that's amazing actually! Wow... Thanks!

NuhaXGoode: Thankssss xx haha yeah, and yes I have! It's actually not that bad, condiering I'm not a One Direction fan! I like it :)

Guest: Thanks!

CammieBishop: Glad to hear it! I'm happy you like Adam :) Thank you! xx

athenadaughter6: Thank you, and I sure will think about that sort of thing. I think something in that essence is going to happen anyway :)

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