"Jackson Perez? We used to go to school together. I remember. It's me, Xavier. You left because of what happened to your family."
The boy grew sullen in his tone.
"I'm so sorry for your loss."
Jackson Perez was never one to bathe in pity. It made her uncomfortable and slightly irritated.
"I've learned to let go of the past. It's alright."
Xavier's smile was like warm coffee melting her tongue.
"Do you like pasta , Jackson ?"
Jackson Perez was addicted to the stuff. Spaghetti was all she ate growing up. She remembered how hard it was to twirl the noodles around her fork, and how accomplished she would feel using chopsticks on lo mein.
"I love pasta. Are we going to Olive Garden?"
"How did you guess?"
Jackson always wanted to go there.
...
"I'll have the ziti , please, and she'll have-"
"Spaghetti.", Jackson said excitedly.
Xavier let his grin take over his face. "Spaghetti for the lady, please." The waitress then went towards the kitchen.
Xavier's eyes met Jackson's.
"So, Ms. Perez, where have you been all these years?"
Jackson knew this moment was inevitable.
"I've been living in an orphanage."
Xavier's face became many expressions at once, from pity to enlightenment.
"You could stay with me, Jackson, just until you figure things out. I have a pretty big apartment."
Jackson could not respond. She didn't know how. The idea was so sudden and violent.
"Ziti, for you sir, and spaghetti for the lady." The waitress put their meals on the table, ending the silence.
It was then Jackson realized how hungry she was. She was shy when it came to eating most of the time, but now she ate like life itself depended on it.
"Jackson? Would you like to stay with me for a while?"
Jackson knew she had no choice. She nodded her head, accepting his offer.
"I'll show you the place when we're done eating."
Jackson nodded again.
"What the hell am I getting myself into?", her conscious whispered to her soul.
It was too late to go back.
YOU ARE READING
Orphan
Teen FictionSmoke. It knew her past too well, and it began to stalk her present. All the family photographs of the house were covered by it, becoming incense with the intoxicating fog. The burning scent was strong and long-lasting; years held onto tragedy like...
