Together Forever

Chapter Three

RACHEL
My ears perked up at the sound of my mother's car's horn beeping. I walked over to her car and swing the silver door open. I slid into the leathery seats of her Lexus and shut the door firmly.
In the mornings, I go by bus, but in the afternoon, I go by car. I had insisted that I take the bus, but Mom would just say that it wouldn't be trouble if she pocked me up every afternoon.
I was particularly surprised at this offer, because Mom's under a lot of pressure with the company she works for, and because of this, she started smoking; even in front of me. I would argue and tell her to stop, but the worst part was, she always smoked in front of me so that I would cough out the hideous smoke. I begged her once to smoke somewhere else, but that just resulted in a very bad mood.
Other than that, sure she was really happy...
"So, Rachel. How was your first day?" She asked, happily. Her green eyes glistened in the sun.
"It was great. I made a new friend." I murmured.
"What's her name? I'm sure she's a really sweet girl." She cooed. She always did when she was in a great mood.
"Isabelle. She's my science partner..." My voice trailed off when my Mom's face went from vivid to pale. I studied her face properly and I realised that it was from shock. Her eyes even seemed to turn pale, if that was possible. Her mouth hung in an o shape.
A fresh thought surfaced my mind.
Isabelle... Isabelle Myers?
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TRISTAN
The smell of burning greeted me at the door of my house. I swung my backpack off my shoulders and dumped it on the wooden floorboard in the kitchen. I looked around, allowing the aroma of the crackling fire in the fireplace soothe me before I walked over to the brown, dull table in the centre. I noticed there was a note attached to the flower vase. I squinted my eyes and realised it was from Dad. I've never told anyone this, but I don't have a mother because she committed suicide. Not because she hated me. But because she's been threatened if she didn't allow an assassin to murder us. So she committed suicide. I tried not to think about it too much.
The note read: "Tristan, I have an important meeting with my boss. I'll be late."
'Just great.' I thought. I was stuck home alone with my homework to complete.
I looked around the kitchen for something to salvage for lunch. But all I found was macaroni from last week and there is absolutely no way I'm touching that.
I looked around some more and finally found roast beef and Coke.
Dad was always home early and when there was a meeting, he would normally bring in some more bad news to add to our plates. I always dreaded the moments where he could actually get fired.
I've seen something close to that. Because my father's boss is temperamental and he has a huge temper. In a very bad and scary and petrifying way.
Sitting cross legged on the carpet, I took out my homework from my bag, and started filling those horrible and tormenting math questions.
Expressions, measurements, circumferences, and square roots all swam in my eyes for approximately two hours because I had a large stack of homework. And that was only math. Only English and Science to go.
Great.
I slowly and carefully took out my English homework, but before I could start writing the report, my eyes caught something on the mantelpiece. It was a frame. A frame of a boy with a toothy grin and his three friends. One of the friends was a really light brown haired girl with sea green eyes and a bright smile. The other girl had dark, black hair and emerald green eyes. She had a devilish smile, like she was planning on murdering one of us that night. The other friend was a boy. And he was a really cheeky and kind of chubby looking. He wore a cardigan over a beige, dull shirt. He looked like Dimitri. No. He was Dimitri.
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RACHEL
I watched as my mother sucked the tobacco out of her cigarette, with a pen in my left hand and my homework in my right. I was barely writing anything out of frustration. She has got to stop. But she'd just emotionally blackmail me, and that's not what I want. At all.
My eyes became teary as I stared at her chest going up and down. I hated myself for thinking this, but one day, it'll only be one up and one down, until she finally is gone. My breath was hitched because of the smoke she was producing. I couldn't focus properly.
Mom took me out to her garden so I could concentrate better, but so far, it's not working.
I squinted my eyes, coughing the smoke out, until finally, she extinguished it.
I stared at her. She looked at me and smiled.
"Don't let anything ruin your day, Rachel." She said, standing up from her chair and walking inside. I heard her tell me I be in before sundown or else I'll get Hypothermia according to her.
I craned my neck and stared at the cloudy skies of New York.
It was pure serenity. I wanted to stay here forever without any problems. But as they say, 'What's life without danger?'
I looked at my homework, and realised I didn't do much. I quickly filled in a few blanks and made my way inside my house.
I don't know why, but I had this really painful feeling in my lungs.
Probably nothing.
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ISABELLE
"I'm home!" Mom called as she entered the house, carrying a large bag of groceries with her. I entered the kitchen, with an apple at hand and smiled warmly at my mother.
"So, how was your day? Did you make any friends?" She asked. The ultimate favourite question for parents to ask their kids when they return from a new school. But this was so different in my case. How would I explain the familiar feeling I get with Tristan? I'm sure Rachel triggers that feeling, too. But I don't think it's as strong as Tristan.
"School was great. I paired up with a boy named Tristan." I shrugged, deliberately making it sound like it was no big deal. But what was most important to me was her reaction. But nothing seemed to shock her. She continued placing groceries in the fridge and bread in our bread basket Grandma gave us for Easter.
Our kitchen was pretty simple and classic. It was black with white countertops, and marble tiles. Really bright bulbs illuminated the Candor-like kitchen.
My gaze slid from the grocery bag to my Mom's face. She looked tired and worn out. Like if she had the chance to sleep, she would sleep for a while hundred years, much like Sleeping Beauty.
But as if a switch flipped, her face went from lively and enthusiastic to plaster pale. Her hands started shaking and in pretty sure she didn't have tremors.
Her eyes slowly shifter from what she was doing to mine. Her eyes locked with mine and she allowed her mouth to hand open in an o shape.
She slowly looked back at her groceries and slowly kept on unpacking the bag, muttering all the way.
I cautiously placed the apple on the counter and walked to her side.
I could have sworn she said:
'Tristan, your best friend.'
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TRISTAN
I heard the garage door open and my dad's Range Rover park and stop its engines. I had just finished my Science homework, and by the time reached seven o'clock, I was beat and filled with school facts. I packed my bag and neatly placed it on my chair near my study desk.
Sure enough, the door unlocked and Dad came through the door looking as tired as ever. I knew he had an important meeting for him to be back this late. I don't sleep until eight thirty but this is the latest he has come back from work.
"Hey, dad. What happened out there?" I asked, as curious as ever. My eyes widened, waiting for an answer.
"We're just not getting the money we need. We need to invest more,and maybe start working extra hours." She grunted. I came closer and noticed a foul smell circulating around him.
My heart raced faster as a thousand options as to why he had this foul smell swam in my brain.
But only one was obvious. He had been drinking.
"That won't change anything, Dad." I sighed, trying not to sound like a pessimist.
"What do you know?" He slurred. I tried not to tear up.
"Dad, why did you stop to drink? Who even drove you here?!" I asked.
He was so drunk, he barely stood properly.
"Come on, dad. Get some sleep." I huffed. I slowly led him to his room, and shut the door behind him. I could hear him bumping into objects as he grunted faint curses. I lingered in the doorway for a few minutes, before I heard my Dad's drunken snores fill the hallway.
I made my way to my own room and shut the door gently. I slid into my bed and allowed the soft duvets brush against my skin. My eyelids were heavy and soon I drifted off in a peaceful slumber...
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