In The Name Of . . . (Sequel to Fault Line) [Completed]

Chapter Thirteen

It's been almost four days since we came back from visiting Jordan. I haven't seen Richie or Lizzy since then, which is fine by me. Life has returned to normal . . . almost. It's still weird to see Aunt Mallory being active and chipper. She had been making all our meals, she's being more vigorous and is actually driving us places. To be honest, I really do like this new Aunt Mallory.

Megan has been hanging out with her friends even more, which is odd for her because she would rather be making out with her boy toy than hang out with her "friends."

I have resisted reading Jane's journal for what seems like weeks. I am itching to read it but for some reason . . . I don't want to know what it says. Why am I acting like this towards it? I want to know what really happened to her, but . . . what if I don't like what the outcome is?

I never really liked Aunt Mallory's living room except one thing . . . this chair. It is the only thing that Aunt Mallory could salvage from our old home. It wasn't burned down or anything, just that that police thought that it was useless anyway and should just be thrown in the town dump. Luckily Aunt Mallory sneaked this out without being caught. I never really did thank her for it.

I look up from my book as Megan descends the stairs. "Hey," I say. She enters the living room and takes a seat on the couch. The couch that Aunt Mallory practically lived in before. I shake the thoughts out of my head, positive thoughts equals positive attitudes. God knows I need more of those.

"Hey, have you seen Aunt Mallory?" She asks.

"Yeah, she went to the store. We're running low on food." Sarcasm covers the second sentence. Aunt Mallory has a problem with not seeing the food that we have and will only buy things when she wants to make it or we ask specifically for it.

"She shouldn't be spending money on food we don't need when we have museum trips this week." Megan grumbles.

"We do?" I close the book after placing my bookmark on the page I'm on.

"Yes. But you probably can't go because you haven't shown up for a couple days. The teachers are worried about you. You were such a good student and then you miss days at a time and don't hand assignments in on time." Megan leans in closer. "The other students think that you started doing drugs."

I lean back, bewildered and wide eyed. "Oh, no! I'm not that stupid! Throw my life away with something as dumb as drugs." I say the word with disgust.

Megan shrugs, her hands included in the gesture. "Using my high awarded voice in the popular group, I have assured the students and the teachers that you had to take some personal days because of . . . Mom and Jane." Megan takes a deep breath. "They took my word and you're off the hook. Well. A little. You are probably failing classes but your social status remains practically the same."

I place my book on the end table to my left and grin at my sister. "Thanks, Megan."

"No prob," she shrugs. "Just remember, you still can't sit or socialize with us." She points at me, looking me dead in the eye.

"I know, Megan. I wouldn't even want to talk with them, they'd treat me like crap and say even that."

"I know, but . . . I don't want your precious ego to be altered by such." She looks up at me with innocent eyes.

I push her right shoulder, mouth agape and widened eyes. "I do not have a precious ego!" I joke with her.

"Yeah! Yeah, you do!" She retorts back.

Skimming my brain for a good comeback, I receive none good enough so I say the first reference that comes to my head. "You smell funny." I can't help but say it with an accent like Jack's.