Greenie : 6

"Dinner is ready downstairs, if you care to join us." Mrs. Wren gently knocked on the door. Lizzy jumped off her bed and ran to wake up mom from her short nap. I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.

"Thank you, we'll be right down." Mom called out weakly as Lizzy excitedly hopped up and down next to the bed.

Dad had left almost as soon as we had gotten here. He had to return to work, make it seem like everything was completely normal. That he didn't have a rogue murderer for a son. We'd unpacked a few things, but then mom had needed to rest.

I stood and reached out a supporting hand as mom stood shakily. She held onto my forearm with a gentle but firm grip. But as soon as she straightened, she swayed and had to sit back down again.

"Thank you, sweetheart, but I don't think I can make it downstairs right now." She sighed. Lizzy continued to jump around the room. I glared at her.

Calm down, we need to bring mom her food.

Lizzy whirled on me.

"You're not dad!" She yelled, her little fists balled at her sides. "You can't tell me what to do."

"Lizzy, could you bring mommy some food, please?." Mom let go of me and waved Lizzy over. Lizzy smiled up at her and nodded. She then opened the door and hopped down the stairs. I quietly followed behind.

Mom was too tired to really care about Lizzy's bubbling, 7 year old energy. Too tired to argue or fight with dad when he clipped my wings. Too tired to care about what the police were doing, or if they'd find anything in our old apartment. And she was getting worse by the day.

'A monster who's killing my wife.'

"Right this way, dear." Mrs. Wren was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. She took Lizzy's hand and led her off towards the dining room at the end of the hall. Lizzy skipped alongside, her blonde hair a frizzy disaster. I could hear voices excitedly speaking in the dining room. Anxiety wrapped around my fluttering heart as I rounded the corner.

The dining room was a very wide, open space attached to a small kitchen, and a long rectangular table in the very center. 8 chairs were positioned around it, but only 2 were occupied. A gray tablecloth covered the entire table and a vase of sunflowers sat in the middle. The room didn't have any windows just like most of the house, and the scratched wooden floors creaked as I stepped inside. Both boys looked up at me.

They were sitting on opposite ends of the table as if they were strangers. One was blonde, though a little darker than me, a little older than me, blue eyes, and dark chocolate brown wings. He looked me up and down, then continued eating. The other boy was fair skinned with a few freckles and dark brown hair and eyes. Viridian green wings were tucked neatly against his back. He watched me curiously and I met his gaze.

Hey, greenie.

I blinked in surprise and he smirked, huffing a breath out in amusement.

What's your name?

I glanced towards Mrs. Wren as she and Lizzy made a plate for mom in the kitchen, then back to the boy. He looked to be around my age.

Newt.

Sit, Newt. The boy gestured to the seat to his right. I slowly walked towards it. The other boy ignored us entirely. He ate quickly, as if his food would disappear at any moment.

"I hope you like meatloaf." Mrs. Wren called out from the kitchen. Lizzy hurried away, carrying two plates of food back to mom upstairs. Was she eating up there too? I sat down at the table as the old woman set another plate in front of me. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables. I wanted to take it upstairs as well. The room felt tense and awkward. No one spoke, and the only sound was from the boy across the table chewing quickly. Mrs. Wren didn't wait for me to respond. She hurried away the same way Lizzy had gone, leaving me alone with the two strange boys.

As nervous as I was, the food smelled amazing, especially after not eating all day. My stomach growled horribly loud in the silent room. The blonde boy ignored it, but an elbow caught me in the ribs and I quickly looked up to the one next to me. He was smiling. A real, genuine smile that made his brown eyes seem warm and gentle.

You sound pretty hungry. Eat, it's good.

I swallowed and looked down at my plate. The blonde boy suddenly stood up from the table and carried his empty plate into the kitchen. I watched him leave it in the sink, then turn to leave the room. He didn't say anything, didn't even look over at us, and left the house through the front door.

That's Ben, he's more of a loner, if you know what I mean.

I looked back to the boy and frowned. Who are you?

Thomas.

Thomas. I nodded and picked up the fork Mrs. Wren had left for me. I took a bite of the meatloaf and closed my eyes in sheer relief. It was probably the best meatloaf I had ever tasted.

"That was your sister?" Thomas spoke aloud. I nodded, attacking the mashed potatoes. "She's telepathic too." I nodded again. He paused for a second. "I wish I had a tail."

"No, you don't." I swallowed a mouthful of potato.

"Why not?"

"You just don't." I flashed him a glare. Why was he talking so much? I pushed my chair back and picked up my empty plate. "I need to help my mom."

"Okay, I'll talk to you later!" Thomas smiled but I didn't look back.

Lizzy was sitting on her bed eating the last of her vegetables as I walked into the small room. Mom's nearly full plate of food sat on the small chest of drawers next to her bed. She lay under the covers again, her skin dull and gray. I closed the door and quietly walked over to my bed.

"Mrs. Wren makes tasty meatloaf, doesn't she?" Mom smiled as she saw me. I nodded and sat down on the thin mattress. "Did you meet anyone downstairs?"

"A couple boys."

"That's good." She closed her eyes and the smile faded from her face as she fell asleep. I looked over to Lizzy as she set her plate down and picked up moms phone.

My mind wandered as I lay in my bed in the dark room. The blankets were soft, the mattress comfy enough, and the humming AC kept the room warm. Dad hadn't come back after work, which meant he was probably staying with a friend again.

He rarely came home after work these days. He hated seeing mom like this, hated feeling helpless around her. But he especially hated Lizzy and I. He didn't admit it aloud, but the way his thoughts raced with dark clouds and thunderstorms told me enough. He blamed us for what was happening to her. It was our fault she was dying. But he pinned most of it on me.

Newt? Are you okay?

I tensed under the blankets as Thomas' voice whispered in my head. How did he-

You should meet me downstairs in 5 minutes.