Leave the Lights On

Chapter 3

You're in your office in the elementary school the next morning, getting ready for the first wave of sick kids. You check all the cabinets and you're in the middle of reaching for a box of latex gloves on the top shelf when you get frustrated. You're just staring at the box, willing for it to fall down to you when you see an arm reach up past your head and grab it.

You turn around so your back is pressing against the counter. You're a little less alarmed when you see Brittany with the box in her hand. You smile and accept the box from her. "Thanks."

"No problem," she says with a grin.

She starts to walk out, but you stop her. "Hey, do you know any place to get Thai food in town?"

"I know one, but you don't want to eat there," she leans on the doorway. "There's one the next town over."

"Can you show me where?" you ask, trying to get her to come with you. "I can take you and Summer to dinner. If it's far, we can go this weekend? Please? I miss Thai food."

She looked hesitant, but your begging must have worn her down. "Saturday? We can go for lunch."

"Awesome," you smile widely. "I'll drive."

You have lunch with Brittany most days during the week. You only miss one because of a meeting you have with the superintendent. He's a nice guy, but seems to have no idea what it is you do or what you're supposed to do.

On Saturday though, you get up early and take a shower. You spend an hour trying to decide what to wear and end up in jeans and cute top anyway. The weather outside is started to turn a little blustery so you grab a jacket on your way out the door.

You're supposed to pick them up at ten, but end up driving around their block a few times, partially because of nerves and partially because you're fifteen minutes early. When you plugged in the address Brittany texted you into your gps, it lied and said that it would take ten minutes to get there. You arrived in five.

It does afford you a fantastic look at their house. It's cute, painted light blue with white trim. You see no indication that anyone lives there, but them, still lending to the mystery of Summer's paternal history. There's a soccer ball in the front yard and Brittany's car is in the driveway. There's a sidewalk with colored chalk drawings all over it, leading up to the two stairs that guide to the small porch. On the porch is a white swing. A rugged looking pillow and blanket are draped haphazardly across it. The front door is a light wood with a polished door knocker. It really is the perfect house for the two bubbly blondes.

You park on the street, by the sidewalk and shut off your car. You're one minute late which you find to be more acceptable than ten minutes early. You fidget with your keys in your hand, the only thing you bring with you out of the car.

Your boots rest softly on the sidewalk and barely make a scratchy noise as you propel yourself toward the house. You find it easier to go toward the house the less you think about it being their house and the more you think about that Brittany's inside.

You find door knockers obnoxious so you ring the doorbell instead and stand a few steps away from the door. You don't want to look too eager.

The door swings open and you have to move your gaze down to see who opened it. Summer beams at you and holds the door open for you. "Hi Santana!"

"Hey Summer," you pat her back when she hugs you around your hips. "Are you guys ready?"

"Mommy's still trying to decide what to wear," Summer pulls you inside and closes the door. "She's been trying on clothes forever."

You chuckle. At least you weren't the only one.

"I'll give you the grand tour," Summer announces and pulls you into the house.