Jenga

Chapter Five- What He Was

It's almost that day. 

The day that people celebrate something I don't even understand. 

Halloween.

Yes, it's October 29th today, and in two days, the most confusing holiday of the year returns.

Here's the funny part: Max's 18th birthday is on that day.

 Speking of which, as I finish putting my outfit on for school, he eyes me wearily.

"Going on a date or something?" he asks.

"No, after clubs I'm going to Charlie's house, and I don't feel like coming back home just to change," I answer. 

A date. Really, I can't imagine going on something like that.

"Charlie? You mean Charlie Armstrong, the son of the head of the Armstrong company? Where did you meet him?"

I pause for a second, trying to follow through with what I just heard. "Charlie is WHAT?!"

Max says casually, "Charlie Armstrong is the son of Robert Armstrong, the head of the Armstrong company."

"He's never told me. . . And, Max, he and his brother Cyan go to our school. How could you not know that?"

"OH! The delinquent."

"He's not a delinquent! He just has some social issues."

Max turns silent for a few seconds, looks at me with the first serious expression I haven't seen on him since we were 5, and then smiles. "Wow, you actually defended him. He must be growing on you. I mean, you both have social issues."

"That's mean. . . Oh, you're just pissed that you're birthday is coming up. Last year, didn't your girlfriend break up with you on that same day? Plus, it's on Halloween. No wonder you hate your bithday so much," I say deciecively.

Max's smile disappears. He opens the door to leave, but stops to turn around and glare at me. "Don't joke around with me."

Then the door slams.

"Is everything alright?" Grandmother's voice asks from her downstairs gym.

"Yeah, no biggie," I reply.

The truth is, I don't really know what just happened.

<> <> <>

"Morning," Charlie greets me as we enter class.

"Oh, good morning," I greet back, and the class erupts into "ooh"s, like the kind when two people are being all flirty and lovey-dovey.

"Give me a break," I say.

Then, out of probably nowhere, Cyan pops in the room.

"Good morning, my beloved," he says to me.

"Hi. . ."

He kneels down and takes a handful of my long hair to his lips.

All the girls scream, I roll my eyes and wonder when class will start.

Charlie's hand suddenly whacks Cyan's arm down.

"Ow," Cyan says.

"That kid will bust your ass if he finds out you've been hitting on her," he says to Cyan sullenly.

"Isn't that just an excuse?"

"For what? Get out, you don't belong here."

I'm confused now. Seriously confused.

"Alright, I got it," Cyan tiredly spoke as he got up. He reached for the door handle, when, it opened.

Julia, my drama-queened classmate, stands in the doorway, and blushes when she looks past him. She quickly walks to her seat and accidently steps on my foot. I shriek in pain.

"Sor-ry," she says with attitude.

I let it pass, and look over at Charlie. "Care to explain?"

He sighs heavily and says, "I'll tell you later."

"Last year, Cyan got a girlfriend on Halloween. Apparently, he 'stole' your brother's girlfriend. He found this out, got Cyan's name, and has hated him ever since. He doesn't know we're brothers. And so, if Mackenzie ever found out Cyan was hitting on his little sister, he'd get hell," Charlie explained to me.

"Well, now Max knows that you two are brothers; we had a quarrel this morning."

"It doesn't matter."

"Also, he knows I'm going to your house in a few minutes."

"What?"

"By the way, why didn't you tell me that you're the son of the Robert Armstrong?"

Charlie heaved another sigh, and smirked. "I seem more mysterious that way, don't I?"

"Huh? I didn't catch that."

"Nothing."

Then Arthur and Cyan enter the room. "Sorry we're late. There was a minor issue," Arthur explains.

"What kind of issue?" I ask.

"We have to start doing work now!" Cyan shrieks in agony.

"Oh brother," I mumble.

<> <> <>

"I don't think I can do this," I say, my voice shaking.

"I don't see the problem," Charlie says.

"Well, your parents and sister and aunt and cousins are going to be there, right? You know I'm not a social person."

"You aren't, but neither am I."

"How is that supposed to help?"

"I didn't say it would. I'm saying we're alike, Noa."

"So?"

"Ah, nothing."

Cyan comes in between us and opens the door, my heart pumping out of my chest.

"Thank you for the water, Mrs. Armstrong," I say, my heart not steady.

 "Call me Jen, and call him Bobby, OK?" Mrs. Armstrong--Jen asks.

I nod, and look around the palace I'm in.

Suddenly, a small girl with bold, dark brown eyebrows and hazel eyes comes running down from upstairs. She's wearing a long off-white dress with brown stockings and has her short hair in a side ponytail.

Are Cyan and this girl the only blonde one in the family?

"My name's Civa, and let me ask you something," the girl says. She looks about 13.

"S-sure. . . "

"How did Charlie get you to except him for who he was?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, don't you? What he was. Now, he's lightened up, though."

"No, I have no idea. I don't know anything."

Civa smiles mischeiveously, and from the corner of my eye I see Charlie, who looks as if he just got stabbed in the gut.

"Then this'll be fun! Come with me. Let's talk."