Violet

5. Listen Up.

Arthur took the driver's seat. In the front passenger seat beside him sat Toby. As for me, I found myself in the back seat with Matthew. I wasn't sure if this seating arrangement was usual for them, or if they had all sat this way because it was Matthew who had brought me to the car, held me without any reason, and then stayed beside me without changing anything. He followed me into the car right after.

Everything that was happening—of course, it frightened me. How could it not? But not because I had already decided that this group of friends were psychopaths or that I was worried for my life. It was because what was happening to me was entirely unfamiliar. Even theoretically, if I'm honest. Sure, I vaguely knew that «walking away» with strange guys was a bad idea. And if you find yourself in a stranger's car, willingly or unwillingly, you should be vigilant and cautious. But all these beliefs were like bedtime horror stories for me. Just a kind of scary fairy tale. I never imagined such things actually happened in real life.

I suppose everything seems like fiction until it happens to you. And fear doesn't set in until it becomes truly terrifying.

"At what time do you need to be at home?" Matthew's question interrupted my thoughts.

All this time, I had been staring at my knees. The car had just started moving a couple of seconds ago. I hadn't even had a chance to process everything yet. I had only decided to think that my new "friends" were courteously giving me a ride to the store, showing considerable concern for me. I mean, how much would they have to think about me to figure out exactly where I was headed? It must have been all this time. Many, many minutes. Maybe even hours. What if it was days? This is about Toby. After all, he must have figured it out. And he had probably already informed his friends about my intended route. So they were all in the loop. That's why they're asking. Offering their insistent help.

"I don't know. Probably five," I shrugged. "Mom will come home from work, and we'll have dinner together. That's when I need to be home," I answered honestly.

"What's for dinner tonight?" Arthur, the one at the wheel, joined our conversation with Matthew.

Despite his apparent hostility toward me, perhaps he was hinting that he was hungry. Maybe he was waiting for me to invite him to dinner. But I couldn't do that! Mom probably wouldn't allow it...

I shrugged again, hoping Arthur wouldn't insist. I've never liked turning people down, and I was downright scared to refuse him:

"I don't know. Mom will either reheat something or cook something new. Yesterday we had pasta, but I think it's all gone. So it'll be potatoes."

Remembering that these pseudo-phantoms could talk about much scarier things, sometimes just to frighten me, I didn't mind talking to them about food if they were that interested.

"I've already forgotten what vegetables taste like," Matthew drawled. "Do they taste like dirt?"

"Why?" I asked, genuinely puzzled. "No, they don't taste like dirt at all. For example, potatoes are washed, just like everything else that comes from the ground. There's no dirt flavor after that."

After giving Matthew my brief explanation, I felt like an idiot. Why was I explaining something everyone already knew? He was probably just pretending to be confused. Trying to get me to invite him to dinner along with Arthur. He might say, "Really? Maybe I'll drop by if you're having potatoes tonight. I've been dreaming of trying that vegetable—let's see for ourselves. Otherwise, I won't believe you... sorry."

"I gave up being vegetarian. I had to. A long time ago." He shattered all my paranoid assumptions by saying this, turning his head away from me.

He didn't ask to come over, after all.