Hello, I Love You

Hello, I Love You (Chapter Ten)

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CHAPTER TEN:

"Yeah right," I scoffed, glaring at Quentin. He simpered and shook his head, shoving his hands in his jean's front pockets.

"I am not kidding you." He shrugged, that silly smirk still upon his features. "The question is, how does he know you?"

"He goes to my school," I snapped, not wishing to remain on that touchy subject. I concealed my utter shock and changed the topic. "What's for dinner?" I inquired, even though it was at least two hours away. The Reynolds preferred to eat precisely at six o'clock every evening.

After no response, I ignored Quentin's ever-present smirk and twisted around to stomp down the steps in aggravation. Instead of discovering a simpler way to forget Arden, I'd be observing part of his bloodline almost everyday for the next few days. Although I knew deep inside that I didn't want to disregard Arden's existence, it would be more painful to acknowledge him. Especially knowing that he'd ignore my prescense.

Snapping me out of my reverie, Quentin placed a hand on my shoulder, halting me in my tracks.

"Let go of me, Arden!" I screeched, jerking out of his grip.

"Arden, huh? You must be really hung up over him," Quentin commented nonchalantly, relinquishing his flawless posture. His proper manner disapparated when his parents weren't around, I noted.

"Leave me alone," I hissed. "Go be a delinquent and play some unsupervised Connect Four."

"I told you I know something better to do." Quentin rolled his eyes and gestured for me to enter his room.

I narrowed my hazel eyes at him. "I don't think so."

At that moment, Mr. Reynolds appeared at the top of the stairwell. "Irene wishes to see you," his low voice rumbled. He motioned for me to follow him.

"Irene?" I inquired, cocking an eyebrow. I was obviously aware Mrs. Reynolds's first name was Irene, but Mr. Reynolds gave me a tough time as a small child, and I could finally give him a hard time instead. Plus, this might brighten my mood, even for a little while... to help me forget.

"Mrs. Reynolds," he breathed, refraining from allowing himself to become irritated.

"Is she in the attic?" I asked with fake innoncence, because I perfectly well knew the answer.

"We do not have an attic, Cora," Mr. Reynolds quipped.

"No attic?" I gasped. Behind me, Quentin chortled for a moment before disguising his laughter with a cough.

"We had it removed when we purchased this household."

"Why?"

Mr. Reynolds clenched his fists in rage. It was actually amusing to witness someone becoming so worked up over nothing. I kept an innocent expression on face, but I had been told this story at least once or twice when I was younger.

"Irene read online that during a major earthquake in a different country, a family's attic collapsed onto a little boy," Mr. Reynolds stated. "She made sure when the construction workers built this house that they did so without an attic, just in case there was an earthquake." He shoved his hands in his pockets.

Before I had the chance to respond, Mr. Reynolds urged, "Irene wishes to see you. Now."

I frowned and glimpsed at Quentin as I trudged down the steps. I distinguished Mrs. Reynolds in the far corner of their beige family room, playing with Daylan on the rug. As soon as she spotted me, Mrs. Reynolds picked up Daylan and sauntered towards me.