Adolescent

11.

About a week and a half later, I came back from a show to find Aaron sitting on the couch in the "living room" of the bus. He'd moved the furniture of the "room" out of the middle, so nothing was in front of the TV there. Dressed in his pajamas, he spread his arms and asked, smiling evilly, "Just Dance 4 competition? The boys won't be home for a while."

I grinned. "You're on. Just let me change."

I ran back into the bunk area of the bus, stripped, and changed into a light long sleeved tee and some shorts. I ran a brush through my hair and put it up into a ponytail.

I almost dropped my brush when I heard a bang, then loud cursing.

"Fucking hell! Shit, shit, shit!"

I would've thought nothing of the words that I knew Aaron was saying, but the fact that they were in flawless French sparked my interest. I went to the kitchen part of the bus, where Aaron was cleaning up what looked to be coffee off of the floor and nursing a scalded hand. He was still muttering to himself in French, but he was a little less vulgar than what he'd said moments before. Carefully, I stepped into the kitchen, grabbing some paper towels and kneeling to help him clean up the liquid on the floor.

"So," I began. "you speak French?"

His face reddened a little. "You understood that? The French?"

I grinned. "My mom was born in France. I'm fluent."

We were done cleaning, and I took his burned hand lightly and led him over to the sink. I ran cold water in a light stream over the burn, and then went to get the first aid kit from it's place under my bunk. Going back to him, I put burn medication over the burn, then wrapped his hand once with gauze. A little medical tape secured the stuff, and my time playing doctor was over.

"Did you ever live in France?" Aaron asked once we'd made it back to the couch.

I nodded. "From the time I was about ten months old to the time I was six. My parents were very high up in the military, and they were stationed somewhere top secret, so they shipped my sister and I off to live with the Coven in Paris."

"'The Coven'?"

I laughed. "That's what my sister, a couple of my cousins and I call our great aunts. They all live together in this big mansion that used to be a feudalist castle with their husbands and a few other relatives. And they're all, well, pretty witchy. Thus, the Coven."

"You lived in this... castle?" He sounded almost nervous.

"For about five years, yeah." Ah, what a time of... discipline.

"So, um... your family is wealthy, I take it?" He asked this tentatively, as if I'd be offended by the question.

"Ever heard of Chevalier Industries?" His eyes widened at the mention of one of the largest and most lucrative businesses in the world. He nodded. "My uncle Vince owns it."

"Well... you really don't seem like a trust-fund kid, Zanna." he said, grinning.

Zanna? Hmm... I like it.

I was suddenly very aware that I was still holding his hand, and even more that it was in my lap. It was an absentminded thing on my part. Awkwardly, I kind of adjusted my fingers, but didn't let go of his hand.

"Enough about me, I guess. Where did you learn French?" I asked nervously. I didn't know where my sudden anxiety came from.

"My dad. He's fluent too. When he had custody of me before handing me over to my mom, it was all he spoke at home."

"Your parents are divorced?"

"Never married, actually. And your parents are?" That question made me nervous. His kind eyes on me suddenly felt like piercing daggers stabbing into my face.

"Oh," I cleared my throat, looking down at our clasped hands in my lap. "they're, um... they're kinda dead."

"Oh. Oh. I... I'm so sorry." The I shouldn't have asked that was clear in his voice.

"Um. It's okay. It was a while ago anyway." It'd been a few months shy of a year and I still thought the condolence of "I'm sorry" was ridiculously stupid. That was also the reason why I never really knew how to answer to it.

It was Aaron's turn to clear his throat. "Um, how long ago?"

He was treading on thin ice, and he knew it. But I didn't mind the question. I tried to make reassuring patterns on his hand with my thumb.

"Last June. The last day of school, I think," I didn't know why I was being so specific; the response just came. Like it was out of my control. Aaron looked a bit awkward and scratched the back of his neck. I knew he wanted to ask that all-important question of how, but hadn't the courage to do it. I sighed. "Homicide."

His eyes sailed upward to meet mine, a slight panic in them. "Um, what?"

"How they died. Homicide. I knew you wanted to ask," I said, shrugging. "No big deal; everyone asks how. You're not the first, Aaron."

He nodded nervously. I knew he was thinking how I could be so casual with the cause of my parents' deaths. But, hey, even if it was partly true, the reason I gave was a lie. And it was easier to feed him a lie about my parents than the truth. I'd never even told anyone the truth, really; I'd never been able to say it to anyone but my sister. Even then it was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do. So, when people had asked, I'd just went with the lie ever since.

I got up and went to the kitchen, leaving him on the couch. I knew he was in shock, and I knew what I'd just ruined. Might as well leave him alone to think about the weird girl whose parents were supposedly murdered. From the kitchen, I went to my bunk, sudden overwhelming sadness hitting me. I'd just ruined a good thing with a more than good boy; how could I not be sad?

I let out a sigh. What a waste of a good thing. All ruined by me. Hell, I didn't really deserve a boy as amazing as him anyway. Whatever.

"Zanna? You okay?" I could hear Aaron coming closer to my bunk.

That was all it took for me to know that I hadn't ruined anything... for once. I grinned.

[Song: King for a Day - Pierce the Veil ft. Kellin Quinn (of Sleeping with Sirens)]