H A U N T E D

s e v e n

s e v e n

"How was school?"

I freeze at the foot of the stairs, cursing myself for not being more subtle and quiet when entering the house. I didn't see my grandfather's truck in the driveway, so I assumed he was off gallivanting in the streets of Homer. Although, I wouldn't associate Finn with the word 'gallivanting'. He'd be more of the 'stalking about' - type.

I let go off the railing and walk to the living area, where my grandfather's sitting on the couch and watching the opening scene of an unknown movie. He hears me come closer and reaches for the remote controller to pause the film. I walk to tee front of the couch, so that he doesn't have to strain his neck.

"Where's your truck?", I ask and pop my fingers as I try to change the subject of the conversation. Flynn cringes at the sound. I give him an apologetic smile.

"It's at my mechanic. She's pimping my ride. How was it?", Finn repeats with raised eyebrows. I hook my thumb underneath the strap of my bag, looking down at his feet. If he can't see my eyes, he won't know that I'm being dishonest about my feelings.

"It was alright, I guess. I'll still be getting used to it, but it's a nice change of scenery", I shrug and look up after I'm done talking. Finn looks at me over the rim of his glasses, taking in my body language and posture.

"You know-", he says after awhile and takes off his glasses.

"Your mother used to do the exact same thing when she was lying to me", he rubs the space between his eyes and a hearty chuckle builds up within him. I drop my tense shoulders and tilt my head in confusion, startled by his words. Finn senses my perplexity and explains.

"Jenna used to fidget alot with her hands when she was lying. It was after she figured out we knew she was lying, by looking at her hands, that she start to do thing to hide them", he gestures to my hooked finger. I look down to look at it, and can't help but give an incredulous laugh.

"I never noticed", I admit.

"So what happened?", Finn asks and folds his arms in front of his chest, resting it on his rounding belly.

"Grandfather-"

"Please, that's so formal. Grandfather this and Grandfather that. We ain't the 1960's anymore. Just call me Grandpa, kid", he says and roll his eyes. I feel the heat of my growing blush spread across my face from the embarrassment.

"Sorry, Grandf - Grandpa", I close my eyes and feel the pinching nerve above my eyebrow beating with every beat of my heart.

"It was okay. I think I made a new adversary of the local mean girl, so tick that off my list", I say sarcastically before joining him on the couch.

"Beat her up", my grandpa says with an unconcerned raise of his shoulders. I can't help but snort back a giggle, shaking my head at his ill advice.

"No, Grandpa, that happens to be against the law. Besides, she's not the only person who-", I stop myself from continuing, afraid I might sound as if I'm pitying myself. This doesn't satisfy my grandfather, who nudges me in the side.

"What?"

I sigh and lean my head back to rest on the couch.

"What did my mom do that people are so scared of me?"

I can physically feel the temperature drop in the room. This is something I've noticed before over my years, that whenever you talk of the dead, they rise up to the conversation. Though, I have a feeling this sudden chill isn't due to any talk of the dead though, but because of my grandpa's frigid body. His tendons in his forearms tense up and I notice the veins bulge against his pale skin.