Melted

Chapter 8

I woke up later than I had intended to. Who knew that a day at the amusement park could be so exhausting? I didn't even remember getting home. That last thing I remembered was sunset on the Ferris wheel. After that, everything was black. Wait, how did I get into my bed?

I checked my phone, but didn't have any calls or texts. Peter must've called my mom (somehow) and let her know I was okay. I didn't even tell her I was leaving. She was probably freaking out all day. It was a wonder she didn't call the cops. Wait, did she? I couldn't remember anything, like I had been drinking too much the night before. I knew I wouldn't let myself do that though. Except at the bonfire (which wasn't totally my fault).

I slowly stumbled downstairs before realizing I was in pajamas. That better not have been Peter. My parents were sitting at the kitchen table, and Richard on the couch. He glanced up from his phone long enough to flash me a smile, then returned to his game. Mom and Dad were speaking in hushed tones with exaggerated smiles. It either had to be about me or Richard. By the way they instantly stopped when they saw me, I had a feeling it was about me.

"Morning sweetie," Dad said awkwardly, "There are waffles on the counter. How'd you sleep?" I eyes him suspiciously as I plopped a waffle onto my plate.

"Fine, thanks," I responded hesitantly, "Is there something I should know, because you guys are acting kind of weird." They exchanged glances before plastering on even bigger smiles. Way to be covert.

"Nope, everything's good. Have you spoken with Genevieve recently?" Mom asked, still using her fake, high-pitched voice.

"Not really, no. Why?" I asked. Something was definitely up, and it didn't take a lot of detective skills to figure that out.

"Just wondering. There's whipped cream in the fridge if you want some," Mom offered as I sat down. I decided not to get up and get some because I wasn't going to take any chances. "Well I have to go to work." I smiled awkwardly and nodded as Mom headed upstairs. Dad followed her, but decided to not even give an excuse. They were the worst liars.

"Richie, what the hell was that?" I whispered, leaning over the couch to talk to my brother. His eyes remained glued to his game.

"I only heard bits and pieces, but from what I could put together, you might wanna call Genevieve," he suggested. Something was totally wrong. Even Richard wouldn't tell me. This wasn't about me, it was about Gen. Was she in some kind of trouble? Was her family in some kind of trouble? Did somebody die? Oh no, not Dr. Dre. He couldn't die. Not after everything we'd been through. I grabbed my phone and started to dial.

"Wait, before you call, I have a question for you," Richie said, actually pausing his game to look at me, "Who was that guy last night? I saw him in the halls at school, but I don't know him. Obviously you do." Something about the way he ended that sentence bugged me.

"His name is Peter. He's from my Spanish class. Why? What happened last night?" I asked.

"Well, you looked like you were dead when you got here. You're lucky Peter called Mom, because she was about to call the cops. You were missing all day. Anyway, he carried you inside, and I actually thought you were dead. But he carried you up to your room and was up there for a little bit then left," Richie explained. Oh god. What the hell did Peter do in my room?

"He didn't put on pajamas for me, did he?" I asked, cringing at the thought. Richard shrugged with a mischievous smile. I decided to text Peter before I called Gen.

I better have put these clothes on myself. I texted. If he dressed me, he was dead. That was worse than his fake x-Ray vision.

Then it was time to call Gen. She answered on the third ring. My heart skipped a beat. I was worried she was dead or something. Not that it was horrible to not answer right away. She just scared me.